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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part IV

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

The Trouble ch.8

A/N- tell me how you liked it!! The ending is coming soon.

Warning- ANGST, talks of loss and grief, ptsd, violence, blood, light fluff, SPOILIERS if you haven’t played the game.

Pairing- Jesse x fem!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

Here. Finally.

It took a long time, but you arrived.

Maybe you regretted it a little, feeling the sun burn your skin as it scorched down, but there was no turning back now. You’ve made it this far. Santa Barbara, and hopefully one step closer to reaching Ellie.

Albeit you knew you weren’t going to find anything on the abandoned boat that you came to. Everything here seemed to be untouched for a couple months, if this was Abby, she was long gone now.

“Has Ellie passed by here?” You couldn't help but wonder out loud whilst you stepped out of the cabin and walked off to jump off the boat—Is she even here?—you think to yourself.

Nevertheless You couldn’t stay out here in this damn blazing sun for too long, nor could you stay so below, you needed to get to higher ground. You could possibly find something there—your eyes lift to the house that overlooked the ocean behind you and getting there, or just getting higher was your goal. And it wasn’t a tough thing to do, the terrain was easy to get through, you just expected the neighborhood you ran into, Messa Bluff, to be tough. All neighborhoods were. Those not used anyway.

You pulled out your gun expecting to hear, or see any sort of infected roaming mindlessly in the streets, but as you walked towards the first house you saw, there was dead infected on the ground. And it could be an old body, but as your eyes roamed it’s ugly figure, you noticed the fresh blood that spilled from the wound on its head. Some of it was still pouring out of its corpse, so it was just killed.

“Hmm,” you sigh before you lift your eyes from its body and continue towards the house, noticing not just a few feet ahead another freshly killed infected—someone’s here.

Your eyes flicker up to the house and you just hoped it was Ellie.

*A FEW YEARS AGO*

“We actually have a girl around the same age as you,” Tommy directs to Ellie who sat by herself on the reading chair. “She should be coming from her classes soon.”

“Classes?” Joel questions. “You guys have a school?”

Maria nods her head. “For the younger kids we do, but y/n is learning to become a doctor.”

Ellie heard them talk but she could hardly care, sure she might want friends if staying here was for the long haul, she didn’t want to be alone cooped up in her room, but she hardly cared to meet someone at the moment. She was bored, hungry and frustrated, but perhaps that was the hunger. All she wanted to do was go to her room and see what she could decorate it with.

Yet Joel stayed in his brother's house talking about random things that came up, but Ellie knew that he was waiting for you, the girl Tommy and Maria had mentioned, so she could meet you. But you surely took your time to get to your house, and once you did, you rushed in unaware of the guests in your living room. Albeit Ellie had noticed you first, she caught your muddy shoes in your hand that you tried to hide behind you, she noticed the urgency and panic in your face that she had seen on other people many times. She couldn’t help but wonder what you had done in your nursing classes to have ended with your shoes caked in mud, and for your first instinct once you got to your house was to dart to your room without as much as a glance at the obvious chatter in your living room.

And luckily for you, you got stopped before you could reach the stairs. “Hey, Y/N, wait up.” Maria called out after your fleeting figure.

“Yes?” You ask as you poke your head past the wall, noticing in that instant an older man with hair a deep grey color, and visible scars on his face that only made him appear intimidating and rugged; he also looked familiar, but you’ve never seen him in your life—“oh.” You mouth before your eyes flicker over to a red-headed girl slouched on the reading chair, her green eyes brightened by the sunlight kissing her face while she obviously studied your face. She also looked intimidating, but not as much as the man, and one thing you couldn’t help but notice was that she looked young. Which, you didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing, yet.

“Come over here and introduce yourself,” Tommy waved you over.

You sigh, but don’t argue as to not look suspicious, instead you throw your backpack on the stairs and regretfully put your shoes on top of it, making sure to cover them with your coat before you walk towards the living room.

“Hello,” you greet the man and the girl still on the couch with a faint smile. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/N, this is my brother Joel.” Tommy introduced him as he fell by your side, the new information letting you realIze that, that’s why the man looked familiar, he looked like Tommy.

“Hello.” He simply said in a husky voice that was much deeper than Tommy’s. “Tommy,” he continued as he looked up at his brother beside you. “You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.”

“No,” Tommy chuckled, “she’s not my biological daughter. She’s my adopted daughter.”

Joel nods and then looks back to the girl, motioning her to get up with his hand. She seemed hesitant, but she picked herself up and stood behind him, making Joel step back so he could push her forward and introduce her. “Ah, this is Ellie, and she’s just around your age.”

“Really?” You question as you blink and meet her gaze. “That’s cool.” There's an awkward silence after, with neither of you knowing what to say or do, but Maria seemed to have a good suggestion that only made things more awkward.

“Why don’t you take her up to your room.”

You weren’t children to show each other your toys, but you did need to hide your shoes before either of them saw—“okay,” you say in a feigned calm tone before you walk back and point your head towards the direction of the stairs. “Come on, it’s upstairs.”

Ellie steps forward and you miss the glare she shot Joel before she slowly followed after you, managing to catch you snatch your shoes and other things from the stairs before you ran up and waited for her at the top. Once Ellie reached the top you guided her to your room at the end of the hall and made sure to swiftly throw your shoes in the bathroom, and shut that door.

“So,” you decide to break the tension. “How old are you?”

“Uh, fifteen.” Ellie answers whilst her eyes wander around your nicely decorated room. “You? I mean they say you're the same age as me, but I don’t believe them. I think they’ll say that just to force you to befriend me.”

You scoff lightheartedly and turn to face her once you’re stopped by your bed. “I’m sixteen. I just turned sixteen like a day ago.” You sit on the edge of your bed and catch Ellie focused on the vinyl records all neatly tucked in the shelves, she walks towards the shelf and her lips tugged to a small smile.

“Are these all yours?” She asked excitedly as she looked at you.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’ve collected some along the years, and my grandpa gave me the rest.”

Ellie’s eyes return to the vinyls to brush her thin fingers over the backs, stopping as she catches sight of a certain album that caught her attention. “Do you have anywhere to play them? Or I mean do they work?”

You drag yourself off the bed to walk to your desk and open the wooden record player. “You can put one on.” You smile as you step back to make room. “To try it out.”

“Are you being fucking for real?” She queried as her eyes met your eyes and you caught a gentle sparkle in them.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Go.”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate to bring an album by “The Clash” with her as she walks to stand by your side, pulling out the vinyl from its sleeve and carefully placing the record where it went. She then set it up and you both waited, hearing silence for a brief second before the sound of an electric guitar began to play, and seconds later a voice began to sing and you recognized the song “Should I Stay or Should I go’ was playing. One of your favorite songs. And it seemed to be hers too because she soon turned up the volume and began to bop her head to the beat, as well as tap her foot as her hands went into her coat pocket and her smile turned to a grin.

You then followed by doing the same head movements as the song played and completely broke the tension between you both. And perhaps it was such a small moment, a small change, but the hostility was gone, neither of you were strangers anymore, but Instead immediate friends.

“Can I ask you,” Ellie spoke up while the song played. “What happened in your medical classes that got your shoes dirty?”

Your eyes widen and you blink to meet her curious gaze, but you don’t hide the truth from her. You smirk instead and reveal the truth. “Yeah, there was no class today. I snuck out with my friends. Just don’t tell Tommy, or Maria.”

Ellie scoffs, and her lips tug to a smirk. “Your secret is safe with me.”

You grin and step back to walk towards your shelf. “Wanna listen to more music?”

“Hell yeah,” Ellie grins.

——

The trail of dead infected bodies led down a small hill that you cautiously followed, even if you weren’t sure who had just killed these infected. For all you knew it could be those people called the Rattlers, that you read about on some letter in one of the empty houses, even if you hoped it wasn’t, the possibility was that it was them. And you could still run, turn back and return home, but you needed to check if it was Ellie first. You couldn’t leave her behind.

So you needed to continue following the path. And as you did. you ended up finding thick green shrubbery blocking the path forward, with the trail of bodies ending a few steps back, so whoever had left it went forward. But when you let your eyes scan the area, you see that an RV and a truck were also blocking the path.

“Hmm.” You slowly walk forward and see a large enough gap between both trucks where you could squeeze through. You were hesitant and anxious in doing so because your peripheral view was limited since you couldn't see much past the truck's gap, but, it was the only way through—fuck—you hold your breath and have your hand tightened around your gun as you slowly walk through.

Once you’re miraculously through and don’t get tackled or suddenly bit, you exhale deeply and feel a wave of relief wash over you, but before the feelings could set in your bones you instantly jump back at the sight of a clicker hanging upside down from its leg. “What the fuck,” you gasp as you clutch onto your chest with your unoccupied hand. The clicker begins to click it’s jaw and manages to push its body forward in attempts to try and get any piece of flesh it could sink its teeth into, but you only stepped back from its reaching hands and then felt yourself bump into something else.

There was no noise, or movement that you could hear behind you, but you still swiftly turned around, only to see the girl you had been looking for. “What the shit…Ellie?!” You gasp again as you feel your whole body grow stiff. You narrow your eyes on her, and besides noticing that she was upside down, you couldn’t help but notice fresh blood dripping down her red, sunburnt face, half of her shirt drenched in the same thick liquid, and her cheeks looked more sunk in than before.

The first thing that should’ve run through your mind was to help her, but your mind kept fixating on wanting to know if she was real, or just some weird hallucination. She looked real, but was she? You snapped from your stupor and stepped forward, reaching out your hand to feel the warmth of her cheeks under our fingertips; she felt real. Next you proceeded to lean in and press your ear close to her lips to hear her slow breaths taken because she was passed out due to the blood that ran to her head because she was upside down. So the answer was that she was actually here, hanging upside down from a tree.

There was an answer as to why she ended up as she was, thus leaving you finally to act out on your plan to help her off the tree. However, when you reached the rope that was tied around a large rock, you caught the sound of footsteps behind you. Thinking it was infected you turn around to get ready to shoot them, but then you see that it was something much worse.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands up, and this might just go easy for you.” A man much shorter than his ponytail wearing companion spoke to you with a certain, annoying cockiness expressed on his face.

You quickly glance at the rope just inches beside you, and then your eyes fall on the switchblade just under Ellie. You think of dropping your gun and then running to get it, but they’d shoot you, or hurt you some other way before you could do damage, so instead you stayed put and did as he said whilst you tried to talk them out of whatever sick plan was on their mind. “Please, just let us go, we'll be on our way out. We just got lost and my friend got caught in this trap.”

The short man approaches you with a smirk and his gun points at you while his companion stood behind him with his weapon on the ready. “We can help you find a way out.” The short man assured you even if it was a lie that you weren’t aware of. “But you have to follow our rules since you’re in our city.” He reaches for your arm, yet as he tries to grab it you kick him back and pull out your gun hidden behind you. You shoot at him, but end up missing after the older looking man he was with shoves you to the floor and steps on your hand until you let the gun go.

“Take her.” The older man instructed, “I’ll take this live one tied up.”

You quickly flip over and reach for a dagger hidden in your waistline, but the guy pulls you up and in a harsh movement twists your arms to your back, and pulls you closer to his chest. “Don’t try anything,” he sneered in the ear. “Or I’ll shoot your friend and then you.”

“Fuck—”

“Abby….” Ellie unknowingly interrupts you, “I found….”

“This bitch is fucked.” The guy holding you remarks about Ellie.

You scoff and squirm in his hold, but he only presses a gun to the back of your head and turns you so you could watch his friend drop Ellie to the ground from where she was hanging, causing her to groan out in pain as she landed on her wounded side. “Ellie!” You bellow, seeing her open her eyes to see the person who had called her name.

It took her a moment to recognize you, to figure out that you were real, but once she did, she could only continue to groan out in the blinding pain she felt shoot out from her bleeding wound.

“We’ll be lucky if she even lasts us a month.” The same guy kept talking, this time however, his comment made your eyes widen out of fear. “Can we please just please just say we’re done for the day?” He continued to ask as he watched the other man untie Ellie.

“Yeah,” the guy agreed whilst he kicked Ellie forward. “I’m going to get that thing down, and let me reset the traps.”

Right! The clicker hanging from the tree—the corner of your lips tug to a smirk and using all the strength you could muster after a long day, you use your legs to throw yourself back, causing the man that had you captive to stumble back towards the clicker who quickly lunged forward in means to bite him.

Nonetheless he managed to get out of the way before the clicker could bite any part of him.

“It get you?!” The friend asked in a panicked voice and with his gun pointing at the guy behind you, who still surprisingly had you in his hold.

The man shakes his head, “No, I’m good.” He then digs his nails in your skin and grimaces after what happened. “You bitch,” He proceeds to also finally tie your hands with some zip tie. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

You snort and just as you’re going to snap back, Ellie beats you to it and begins to laugh. You can’t lie it creeped you out that she did laugh since she was badly wounded, but you let it be, and well it annoyed the guy.

“Something funny?”

“Looks like you shit your pants,” Ellie counters while she struggles to push herself off the ground.

The guy shakes his head and whispers in an annoyed tone. “What you say?”

“What a little bitch.” Ellie continues smugly.

“Oh, you like funny huh?” The guy snaps before he grabs your arm again, cuts off the zip tie and drags you towards the clicker. “Watch this.” He shoves you forward and the clicker begins to reach for you, clicking its teeth as the sound makes it go crazy. You struggle in his hold, and dig your heels into the ground to make it difficult for him to continue pushing you forward, but he’s stronger than you and manages to tear your arm from where it was stiffened to your side to push it towards the clicker's mouth.

“You fucking,” you strain to say whilst you squirm and try to throw your elbow, or foot back. “Asshole. Let me go. Stop!”

“Come on,” the other man protests, “we don’t need this.”

“No, man,” the young man responded amusingly. “They’re fucked up anyway.” He continues pushing your arm towards the clickers teeth until the point you could feel the heat of its mouth on your skin. It was terrifying and heart clenching, your breath became heavy and quick and Ellie wanted to stop him, but she was struggling to get up. You kept trying to fall back, or really just do anything, and miraculously you did manage to get the upper hand after an instant of throbbing pain shot throughout your arm.

You didn’t pay much mind to the pain and passed it off as the man digging his nails in your skin and pressing his rough fingers on your arm, before you ducked and used your strength and weight to swing him to the side and throw the man towards the clicker's arms and jaw. After that he let you go and his friend tried to shoot you, but Ellie quickly grabbed the gun you dropped and shot him first, causing him to fall down on his ass.

“Fuck,” you breathe out as you move away from the clicker and catch your breath on the ground, catching Ellie snatch the guys rifle off the floor and storm towards the other man in means to shoot him.

“Wait! Wait! You said Abby! You’re looking for an Abby right?” The man bellowed as he threw his hands out, managing to make Ellie stop before him. “We picked one up a couple months ago.”

“Yeah sure.” Ellie said, stepping forward.

“Big girl!” The man pants, “blonde. Arms like mine.” He motions, “she had a scrawny kid with cuts by his mouth.”

Your attention focuses on the man and your eyes narrow as your mind pulls out flashing memories of who he was talking about. For a brief second you see and hear the memory of Abby killing…Jesse play out in your head and it hurts far worse than your arm does.

“Yeah, that’s her.” The man says once he notices the realization on yours and Ellie’s faces. “You let me go. I’ll tell you where she is.”

“Talk.” Ellie deadpanned.

“She’s in a holding cell in our camp,” the man obliged.

“Where is that?” Ellie interrogated him further.

The man points past her and continues. “Head up that way til you hit the railroad track. That’ll lead you to a resort. We keep em in the tall, round building.” He groans and Ellie looks back to where he pointed to for a second before looking back at him—“I swear.” Before he could add more Ellie lifts her gun and shoots him once before he goes limp like his friend.

Finally leaving Ellie and you alone.

However the reunion wasn’t a happy one. After Ellie could tear her eyes from the man laying on the floor, she turned to you with a serious expression that expressed no warmth. “What are you doing here, y/n?” She asked bluntly.

You push yourself up to your feet and can’t help but glance at her wound on her side as you answer her. “I came after you.”

Ellie walks past you to collect her switchblade off the ground, but stops as she’s crouched down, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. “Why? Who told you I left?”

“Dina, told me. After I went for a visit.” You say as you walk and grab a rifle from the man Ellie had killed.

There's a short silence while Ellie stands up, but she’s quick to fill it with the same question. This time in a more demanding tone. “Why are you here?”

“Because.” You stand up and turn to face her, ignoring the pain your arm was under. It felt as if someone was pressing a hot iron on it. “My friends' problems are my problems.”

Ellie’s green eyes quickly snap up to meet your own eyes, and you notice a sadness flicker within them while her lips twitch to almost express a frown, but she holds back and instead focuses on her wound at her side. “Did you come to take me home? Convince me not to kill Abby?” She lifts her shirt and a soft hiss leaves her lips. “Well then let me tell you that you’ve come in vain. She killed Joel, I’m only finishing what she started.”

You scoff. “What she started?!” You storm towards her but she keeps her eyes on her wound. “Ellie, you went after her already. You killed all the people that were with her and it almost took Dina, Tommy and you out with them. The only reason,” you pause when you don’t notice her looking up at you. You crouch down to be at her level. “Look at me.”

Said girl blinks a few times to fight the tears that welled in her eyes before slowly dragging her eyes up to meet your gaze.

“The only reason,” you continue, “neither of you died was because she spared your life. She wasn’t going to bother you anymore, and you came after her. You left your family to come after someone who most likely has not thought of you since she left Seattle.”

Ellie shakes her head. “It’s not that easy to forget what she did!” She stands to her feet and stands just a few inches away. “I can’t sleep, I see him all the time. I see that day, I see her.” She cries. “I need to do this. It’s the only way I will be able to live in peace. I need to do this for….him.” She can’t even muster the strength to say his name, or mention her pain without her voice breaking. Tears wanted to slip past her eyes, but she was strong enough to hold them back for now.

“And what?” You counter with tears of your own while you step forward. “Don’t you think I see Jesse? Don’t you think Jesse’s death hurts me too?” You sniffle and swipe tears off your cheeks. “I see him all time. And not with good memories, but his body after he was shot. It haunts me, even when I’m awake. And I want it to stop.” Your voice quivers. “But even I know this is wrong. Stop this and come home before something happens to you. You know Joel wouldn’t have wanted you to come if it meant risking your life. So come home Ellie, please.”

Ellie steps back and her gaze holds yours for a moment whilst tears roll down the curve of her cheeks this time. She parts her lips to argue, to try and convince you to follow her plan, but she knew you more than anyone, no matter the pain you were enduring after losing the man you loved, you’d never fall as low as she thought she had fallen. She couldn't ask you to stay.

“Just leave, y/n.” Ellie mumbled as she shoved past you.

You turn sharply on your heels and stay put with determination in your own plan. “No. Not if you’re not coming with me.” Your lips twitch.” Wherever you go, I go.”

A sigh leaves Ellie’s lip and with some hesitation she turns with a comment ready to be shot out, but before she could speak, her eyes fall on your arm and they go wide with horror. “Y/N.” She mutters before she rushes towards you and grabs your arm, twisting it a bit and gasping sharply. “You’re….” She pauses and you follow her line of vision down to your arm, instantly feeling your heart sink to your stomach, and feeling all sound cease to exist as you catch the bite mark on your arm. “…bit.”

Tagged- @protect-lev, @expecto-nox @vintage-and-hypnotic , @kokomaesadie @0j-b0 @itsyellow @minheoly @traceylader

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cobble-stone · 2 years

Note

Pssst Cobalt

I know I do this a lot but guess what

Tell me about interior design stuff you like! What's your favourite colour scheme? what's one specific thing that causes a visceral reaction of some kind? what is one of your favouritest things in either the construction of the space or ways to fill it? I wish to know

OKAY.

so i don’t know all the professional terms- i enjoy interior design more from a “ooo that looks Good” perspective not really a “i know why x y and z works together it’s because of the shittyflurbo rule-“

BUT. i really like neutral tones- greens, greys, blues, browns. i like neutral schemes that have a bit of color to em, and just like- incorporating different textures in order to have a cozy feel. like- you take a soft couch and a blanket with chunky knit and have curtains and strategically scattered little bits and bobs? *good.* good.

i try to kinda incorporate this into how i did my room- my room is actually pretty vibrant! the general color scheme is more so like- bold cobalt blue (heh) with blacks and grays- it’s not as like. Chill vibes as what i’d say is good for like living rooms and such but it’s a bedroom! it’s more so a place to align with my personal style, less of a shared living area. kinda how i see it is that like- shared spaces are more ambiguous and neutral, but things like bedrooms can be Whatever You Want it’s Your Room. also since the walls are white and we’re not allowed to repaint- i had to get pretty creative with things to take up wall space! nothing i hate more than a blank white room, so i have lots of little decorations and shelves and i have various album covers i made out of different mediums, i have some chains made of soda tabs draping from one corner of the ceiling and a little like- i can’t call it a tapestry. it’s a halloween decoration that’s just like this black knit tablecloth (?) that’s made to look like a spiderweb that i stole and put by my bed. (the way my bed is laid out is so weird. it’s like- it’s against the wall but not against the wall from the headboard. it’s so stupid but i love it.)

i really just like- i think that too much empty blank space is Bad. FUCK minimalism all my homies HATE minimalism. though i’m also not a huge fan of like- the typical “maximalist” designs cause one- a lot of the maximalist designs are kinda based in more dated patterns and details which- nothing wrong with, i just am not a fan. and also cause i feel like- there’s Too much going on. i like a good balance, i want there to be enough going on that you aren’t left with negative space, but like any art piece, negative and positive space is equally important.

as far as filling spaces- i like both shelves and kinda like- i’m not a huge fan of framed things. that’s just a personal thing- i don’t like things that are excessively fancy for no reason and framed things feel excessively fancy for no reason. like- if i could choose between a framed painting and the same painting but no frame, just the canvas- i’m going for painting with no frame. i also really like what i mentioned with my room- the little black tablecloth-turned-tapestry, it provides such a nice way to take away some negative space while still being fairly simple and not too distracting from other focal points. curtains are also amazing, they can really make or break a whole room’s atmosphere. i changed my curtains a while back from plain white ones to these bold blue ones with black trim and it just- makes the whole room come together better. it kinda helps carry the vibe of “teenager who just wants a space to make his own” that my room holds and i specifically crafted for that vibe

i’m kinda just thinking of style stuff now and like- i mentioned my idea on minimalist vs maximalist, but also like? fancy verses messy. i guess? just like. i don’t like disaster, obviously. i’m a fairly neat person by nature, my room being a mess Stresses Me Out. but also like- it i’m in a house i want it to feel Lived In. i don’t want everything to be perfectly neat and tidy and put away. i want evidence of life, evidence that this is not a static environment. small details like sticky notes in a mirror, plants, books laid haphazardly on a table. i really like those.

kinda just- with interior design stuff, i just. i like whatever makes the place feel like a Home. i want a place to feel lived in, to feel right, i want a place that i feel cozy and that i can just sit down on the countertop and drink hot chocolate or just lay on the couch and vibe. for me the key to just kinda- any design stuff is a good medium, at least for my personal taste. not so cluttered that it’s overwhelming, not so blank that the emptiness is equally overwhelming. not so fancy that it feels like a waiting room, not so messy that it’s stressful. just. a good medium, furniture that isn’t so absurdly trendy that it gets dated in a couple years, places to display fun knickknacks and a place that can tell a story of the person who lives there. i feel like that’s the real goal of interior design: not to have the nicest place possible, not to have a place that they’ll feature on HGTV, not to have the best house to sell: the goal is to showcase a story of the person who lives there.

#cobble’s tones #wow i don’t shut up #ldhdkdjdh thank you for letting me ramble #roro beloved hope you’re having a good day :D #basically: my main summary is i like neutral toned stuff #greens blues greys etc #my room doesn’t fit this theme but i love it anyways #i just like places where i can sit there and think. ‘yes this is Comfortable.’

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kozumebunny · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu boys + trouble in paradise

You don’t seriously think that being with the haikyuu boys is perfect, right? Moving in is just another challenge. Some make it easier than others.

TSUKISHIMA KEI will not let you raid his closet. Once you take something you don’t give it back. When you move in, it’s a two bedroom apartment. He values his space and some days he’ll come home and go right to his room. Why can’t you pick up that he needs his alone time? Also, did you seriously take another one of his shirts? It’s not that hard, just wash it and put it in his laundry pile, why won’t you respect his space?

SAKUSA KIYOOMI will not budge when you move in with him. No, you can’t bring all that shit, it’s just gonna clutter the shelves and mean MORE dusting. Why do you want to make everything more of a hassle and- oh my god. It’s been three days, why haven’t you mopped, cleaned the bottom of all your shoes? You know what? Don’t bother. You’re just gonna fuck up the clean system he has in his house.

HINATA SHOYO isn’t messy. It’s organized chaos! That pile over there is clean clothes, hence why they’re folded and stacked. That one is dirty, which is why it’s away from everything else. Hey, why are you cleaning his closet? Stop babying him! He doesn’t need someone to nag him! Why do you have to clean everything? Now he doesn’t know where his clean clothes are. No. he will not do laundry or help a lot around the house.

MIYA OSAMU will want a place in the city. An apartment most likely. But it’s so busy and loud and smokey and the air is just so b a d. Yeah he wants kids, but he won’t give you a house. He needs to stay close to the restaurant, that’s his first baby. You won’t get a house with a white picket fence and you won’t get a pet either. He can’t stand to have the fur everywhere or having to put up with something as energetic as a dog.

MIYA ATSUMU will not make the house yours, He will make it his. It has to have a trophy shelf, pictures of his victories newspaper clippings of his victories framed and hung everywhere. Why do you need to hang up your picture from high school? You don’t even talk to them anymore. Fine, we can hang it in the hallway. Just make a photo album and put it on the coffee table next time. jesus. Oh yeah, that spare room? It’s his man cave. the garage? His gym. Is there any room for you in your own house?

KITA SHINSUKE lives on a farm. What’s the internet connection like? Why do you want to go clubbing for a date? Oh god, please don’t wear a skimpy clubbing outfit his grandma is right there. You work in the city? It’s a long commute. Just work from home. Shinsuke can support both of you anyways. Also, it’s a farm. You’re in the middle of nowhere. Hope you enjoy bugs and snakes coming into the house every now and then. Oh, and while he’s working and while his grandma gets older, you’ll be the one having to look after the house more often. Not much compromise there.

AKAASHI KEIJI wants a quiet place. Don’t blare your music when he’s working, when it’s early, or when it’s late. It’s an unspoken rule. Also there are bookshelves everywhere. you two have a huge collection. But no, no plants in the house. No dirt or dead leaves. none are allowed in the house. Go put it outside where it belongs.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI will not help you pick out decorations. He’d prefer a simple aesthetic but if you want to hang up all the photos of you two available in the house, don’t test him he’s already looking for the hammer and nails. It’s frustrating, you are the one decorating the house. it becomes a your space instead of an our space. (communist theme starts to play) He won’t help, only saying, we should have a bookcase in the living room, to put more photos and albums on. Dude. Go pick out a bookcase then. Why do you want me to do it?? Were you not the one who suggested it??

KOZUME KENMA is such a basic help. He doesn’t care about the aesthetic only that the furniture colors don’t clash. Also, while you’re at IKEA he’s on his phone. Looking up a new gaming chair and monitor. And decorations for his gaming room, which has a bed and doubles as his personal space. He’s not too much help when you want to decorate the rest of the house. He’s more than happy to help prep the house for an arrival of a new kitten though!

KUROO TETSUROU will not tell you what’s on his mind. Why are you keeping the house plans secret? Are you making an ahegao manga wall? I don’t know! Mans is just gonna start pulling things off shelves asking if you like it then put it in the cart. Tetsu babe. Half this shit doesn’t match. Put it back.

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sokodraws · 3 years

Photo

Crying. Why was he crying?

ye, infelix doesn’t cope well with his past, it haunts him so to say

he’s one of my more broken characters

full story under ‘read more’

PAST LIFE

(witten as a comission by the amazing @/tomokoseph on twitter)

Infelix had the flat all to himself. It wasn’t a first for him—far from it, he’d say—but it was still a rarity. Not only that, but he had a week without any of the others running about; it was a far cry from the two days at most he’d spent alone. And how did this begin? A modeling gig? It was only the third day of his isolation, and he already wasn’t sure. Though even if the memory had become a haze, he could still find necessary details.

It all began as a long conversation on a rainy afternoon. With a sudden text letting Dorcha and Flora know they’d been selected for a bigger modeling job, they gained congratulations, only to surprise the rest with how long they would be gone. Misha would join the pair—it seemed everyone expected that—and after that, it felt like everyone wanted to join along. Diopetes seemed more than eager to join the newly created trio. After contemplation, Mire decided he didn’t want to be left out of this team of sorts and tagged along even if the whole thing was of no interest to him.

And then there was one. But even with all of the others’ pestering, metaphorically and literally tugging on Infelix’s arm so he could go out farther than the city for once, he wouldn’t budge. As far as he was concerned, someone had to look after the apartment (a lame excuse). Admittedly, he was surprised that everyone let him get left behind, but he wasn’t complaining.

Infelix didn’t do much throughout the days, savoring the time to himself that slowly counted down to the group’s return. It’s not that he hated their presence, but sometimes the constant conversations became overbearing, and silence only came about in the dead of night. Hell, the more he thought about it, he should have gone along to make sure no one got in trouble. And yet, out of his volition, he let them go without a peep. Considering they were all used to their human vessels, nothing too wild could stem from one week unsupervised. Hopefully.

Now, on the third day, he could admit he was getting used to this mundane routine of his. It began to grow on him, even turning into a comfort he never thought he’d ever experience. To know it would disappear within a few days didn’t click yet, so it felt like paradise being able to stay anywhere he wanted without anything to interrupt his train of thought. With that, he decided to do something he hadn’t in a while: listen to music.

After laying on the couch for what felt like hours, he stood up and walked towards their old, small shelf. While it remained empty for a while, Flora insisted they decorate at least a little. That’s what ended up with them owning a few potted plants, books they’ve never read, and a used record player that came with a collection of vinyl records. Pulling the record player out of the top shelf along with a random record, he walked towards the couch, having to place it on the ground to plug it in. After a bit of fumbling around, the record was in its place, and the needle set down and slowly bringing it to life. He then stared down at the album he had picked out. Brahms? Not a bad choice. As the sounds of Piano Concerto No. 1 filled the room, a thought came to Infelix’s mind: I need a drink.

After a quick jog to the kitchen and rummaging through the shelves, he pulled out an ornate bottle of whiskey that he didn’t touch too often. It was on the more expensive side—one he doubted anyone could drink regularly with its price—so he saved it for special occasions. Well, special wasn’t exactly the right term, but it felt most appropriate to how he felt then. Taking a glass one shelf down from the alcohol, he walked back to the living room, falling back onto the couch as he poured himself some whiskey.

Taking a sip as he placed the bottle onto the coffee table before him, Infelix let out a sigh as the strong drink slid down his throat. As the intense playings of a piano that graced his ears died down, transforming into soft strings, he stared at the wall, his previous thoughts washing out of his mind into nothingness. As he relaxed further into the couch, taking a bigger swig of his drink, he wondered what would have happened if he had Dorcha and Flora’s lives. What was it like running about in pretty clothes, getting pictures taken and blown up for others to see, feeling somewhat significant in this anomaly of a universe?

Then, he paused. Once, he felt like someone of significance, somewhere in a land from long ago.

Deadramel.

No, he hadn’t forgotten about the realm. It would always be lingering in the back of his mind, still waiting to come to the forefront. After getting used to human years, that moment in time felt like an old memory, though it had only been a little over a decade since then. As he took another sip of his drink, he realized he was running dry, leaning forward to pour himself a little more.

Infelix remembered how everyone treated him before, becoming an important demon to all who knew him. But he just had to ruin it all, following along with Mire and Dorcha’s plans of killing the King, turning into a traitor to all in a single day despite centuries of trust. Even then, he didn’t blame the pair more than himself; why did he let such a plan go through? Grimacing, he drank down more whiskey, finding that it went down smoother the more his thoughts ran.

Before this, Infelix lived a far better life. He lived with prestige, was respected by all, second only to the King. All that he needed was at his disposal, and any commands met in moments. And even before his lavish life within castle grounds, merely roaming the wasteland Deadramel used to be, there was still one thing he had that couldn’t compare to anything else in the world: the King’s love.

But that was long ago. Now all Infelix had was this lackluster flat, surrounded by the ones he could have stopped, living a life where he felt he was rotting away. He felt like a hollow shell of the demon he once was, and the thought made his head throb in a way he rarely felt. By then, the music had disappeared into the background, barely heard by the never-ending words that rushed through his mind. They mocked what he had turned into, about how he’d never get back his past life no matter how he tried. No more Deadramel, no more of the other demons he cared for, no more of the King; all of these were memories he could visit, but all they’d do was bring him pain and suffering.

Staring down at his glass, at the drops of golden alcohol that sat at the bottom, it didn’t seem like enough. Placing the glass down, ignoring how it hit the table with a thud hard enough to break it, his eyes met with the whiskey bottle. It was still three-fourths full and, while he was unsure if it was even a right decision, all semblance of rationality had disappeared from him. In one quick movement, the bottle was in his hands, and he drank as much as his body would let him.

By the time he’d taken more than he could, pulling the bottle away with force, his vision had gone so hazy that he swore he wouldn’t move from the couch. But his instincts had other plans, forcing him out of his seat and roaming the room, pacing around with desperation. Despite the dull thud that made his head ache, he still needed more, craved more to muddle the thoughts that overcame him. Rushing about the room with the whiskey still in hand, he’d soon find his answer hidden deep within one of almost untouched drawers they had full of medicine, just by the bedroom door on the lowest row. Dropping onto his knees, he felt his headache only grow worse, but he merely shook it off as memories of the past jumbled together with the pain.

Infelix put his bottle down onto the ground before pulling the drawer open. He pushed aside any medicine he knew wouldn’t help, instead reaching for the small, bright yellow bottles near the back. All were still full to the brim, but with labels that had faded enough to be left unread. He didn’t remember what any of them did or even who they belonged to, but he didn’t care.

With hurried hands, he screwed the lid off of one, gulping at the sight of pills right in front of him. As far as he was concerned, this was what could help him forget, maybe take him out if luck was on his side, and he tilted his head back as he dropped them all into his mouth.

Some fell onto the floor, but that was the least of his concerns. With a mouthful of pills, he forced them down with whiskey that he drank down with desperation. After placing the bottle down, eyes staring at the other medicine that sat before him, he reached for another. He repeated what he’d done, over and over, too many times to count, but soon found out he was out of alcohol. Clambering up to get more, he stopped himself dead in his tracks, a memory slipping through the cracks.

Deadramel, still a wasteland, no one else but one in sight.

The King’s voice.

“No, no, that’s not right.”

Infelix nodded slowly, though still seemed confused by the magic he was supposed to mimic. When they found themselves in areas too dark to see, he would always rely on the King to lead the way, bringing about light as bright as stars that peeked through the night. But the King told him that it couldn’t continue this way forever, and Infelix would have to learn the skills that he had honed. Although surprised at first, Infelix accepted but wasn’t too sure how well this ordeal would pan out.

“Is it not?” Infelix asked, a limb extended from his shapeless form.

“No. Why don’t you follow after me, hm?” The King outstretched a limb as well. For a moment, there seemed to be no sign of struggle at all, the faint aura of magic swirling around him, soon manifesting as a ball that glowed in his palm. “Don’t push yourself too hard, and it will come, I promise you.”

Infelix, still in shock at how effortlessly the King created light, wondered if he could ever reach such a sheer amount of skill. Now flustered as he felt the need to push himself, he strained his mind to create something in his hands, feeling the King’s gaze on him for every second that passed. With a mixture of motivation to do as the King pleased and shame at the lack of prowess he had at magic, a semblance of results would soon yield.

At first, what had appeared were simple sparks, though even the small display had the King let out a gasp. The reaction had Infelix wanting to push for more, but his next few attempts only gave the same results each time. Though Infelix was on the verge of giving up, the King stood beside him, seeming unbothered by the failed attempts. Instead, the King repeated as he had done before, and all Infelix could do was watch in awe, then caught off guard as he felt a sensation tingling in his palm. Looking ahead towards his palm, his concentration suddenly increased tenfold, and it seemed all magic he had transferred right into his hand. Before his mind could even process what was happening, the same ball of light the King had suddenly manifested before him.

To say shock and awe ran through Infelix’s body was an understatement. He brought the orb closer towards his face, squinting down at its brightness, in disbelief that he could create such a thing. Yet any confusion would cease as the King suddenly drew near, beaming at Infelix, seeming prouder than ever. The sight of this had Infelix feeling lighter than air, much more pleased by his abilities in a matter of moments.

“It’s not that hard, is it?” the King asked, tone joking. “I’m proud of you, Infelix. You truly do have the potential to harness great magic.”

The statement had the already elated Infelix feel joy that overtook his whole thoughts, his entire body. To be praised by the man that cared for him was divine, an experience incomparable, and he doubted even the grandest occurrences that could happen in his life would compare to this small moment he shared with the King.

And nothing ever did.

Despite all the alcohol that filled his stomach, pills floating amongst the liquid within, the memory was as clear as day. It was as if it had occurred all over again, and the thought made Infelix pause, staring down at the ground as he couldn’t quite process it no matter how he tried. Why then? Why now? For him, it all didn’t make sense, and the dull throb in his head only grew worse.

Subsequently, tears dripped onto the ground, and it took a moment before Infelix could realize what was happening. A heaviness settled itself into his chest without warning, a light tremble over his body following, and tears continued to slip past him even if he wanted to stop them. Crying. Why was he crying? In all that had occurred in his life, tears never fell, only dread filling him in the worst of times. Perhaps his humanness was catching up with him, and he couldn’t help but groan in frustration as he let emotion overwhelm him.

The past would never return, his greatness only existing as fragments in his mind. No, all he had now were Dorcha and Mire, the pair only serving as a reminder of the mistakes he made in the past, a pair he had to take care of no matter what. But by then, Infelix didn’t even know if he could continue being the pair's carer. In a sense, he wanted to do all he could for them, but it was as if his body had given up.

Infelix was at a loss for what to do, all he had consumed unable to hinder such extreme emotion. It was as if hundreds of years of exhaustion finally manifested into his human vessel, and he felt utterly useless. Unlike before, the conditions of his life were against him. By then, he couldn’t name a single good thing that had happened in years. He was nothing. A failure—

He needed another drink.

And another.

More pills.

Before he knew it, Infelix passed out, slumped against the wall as he dropped a bottle of whiskey in his hands, knocking over other bottles he’d had strewn across the floor.

#infelix #my design #the cursed universe #oc #oc backstory #digital art #backstory

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aiden21 · 3 years

Text

A Universe of Coincidences Present Mic x gn!Reader

Word count: 4k+

You’d moved into this new apartment expecting nothing other than a change in scenery. You’d initially fallen in love with the view that your balcony provided. You were on a high enough floor that no other building nearby really got in the way, and if you closed one eye and stretched out one hand, it kinda looked like you were holding some of the city in the palm of your hand. You didn’t even care about the fact that the apartment itself was a little small, and you spent most of your free time out on the balcony in a small garden chair, just gazing out at the world happily.

You only went out a few times a week for anything that wasn’t work, this afternoon being one such case, for groceries or other necessities. You had a small list in your hand, not trusting your memory, and got in the elevator. The doors were about to close when you heard someone running and you instinctively pressed the button to keep the doors open. A man trotted inside the elevator, a charming smile on his face.

“Thank you~” He told you, in clear English, and you smiled shyly back at him.

You shook your wrist out of pure instinct, the charms on your bracelet clinging together. It was a black bracelet with red roses and you realized the man was staring at it with cheerful eyes.

“Did you just move in? I don’t think I’ve seen you around this venue before.” He asked, green eyes sparkling behind a modest pair of glasses. He was cute, you told yourself, with his long blonde hair and little mustache.

“I’ve been in 1407 for a few days.” You said, offering your last name and a polite smile. He hummed, nodded, and then when the elevator reached the ground floor all too quickly, he pointed at you with a finger gun.

“Welcome to the building! Enjoy the show!” He said before walking out while whistling happily, his strides much longer than yours. You waved at his back dumbly, already getting the feeling that you knew him from somewhere. You pondered upon that as you walked to the store, feeling like you had the answer on the tip of your tongue. But, alas, you didn’t think you’d ever seen that man face to face before and so you pushed the thought out of your mind for a while.

The following morning found you in comfy clothes, the sliding door to the balcony wide open to let the breeze in. You were unpacking a few things, hanging some decorations, while your favorite album played in the background. You had one of those modern vinyl players along with five of your favorite records, all a gift from your family last Christmas, and you liked to listen to them like that, even though you had the songs on your phone. It’d be a shame to just let the vinyls gather dust, after all. You sang along, placing things on shelves and stacking empty boxes on top of one another. You were far from being a good singer, but being home alone gave you the confidence to try and hold longer harmonies or reach higher notes, all things you wouldn’t be caught doing out in public.

You half danced your way around your living room, putting things in their new places. You stepped out into your balcony, still singing happily. You looked at your plants, reminding yourself that you had to water them once the sun went down.

You stretched, butchering the high note on the song but belting it out regardless, and then you stopped dead when another, much more harmonious voice joined you. Apartments on the same floors technically all shared one long balcony, but it’d been divided by walls on either side so everyone could have their privacy. Thus, you couldn’t actually see who was out on their balcony. But the voice—male, for what you could tell—sounded impossibly close. They kept on singing along to your music, clearly not caring about being heard, and you ran back inside with a hand over your mouth, blushing like crazy.

You tripped on the rug and cursed out loud, knocking over a stack of books. Outside the voice laughed cheerfully and you wanted to bury yourself alive out in the garden. Thankfully, they said nothing after that and, not having seen their face, you managed to swallow down your embarrassment. You pushed back the feeling that you knew that voice, not wanting to even think about what neighbor had caught you singing like a teenager.

You came back from work one day feeling exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to climb into bed, listen to some music, and go to sleep. You stepped inside the building and immediately the guard stopped you in the lobby. He pointed you towards some boxes—at least ten boxes big enough to fit a medium-sized dog inside—and told you that they were yours. Of course they were. During your move a few of your things had gotten lost, you having moved from one end of Japan onto the other, and the moving company had promised you that the boxes had simply gotten mixed up in someone else’s move. You half believed that you’d never see those things again, but lo and behold, you got your things back. Now to get them up to your apartment all by yourself, since the guard couldn’t leave his post at the gate. Wonderful.

The first box was easy.

The third one felt a little heavier.

The seventh one had you gasping and you were honestly considering just leaving the rest of your stuff in the lobby until the end of times. You were tired and annoyed and hungry and still in your work clothes.

The elevator opened with a cheerful ding and you sighed, dragging your feet and taking another box with the word ‘books’ written on top. You attempted to lift it, the air leaving your lungs on that first attempt before you got a better hold of the box. Your back was killing you and your arms hurt, but you carried on towards the elevator. Unable to use your hands, you attempted to balance on one leg so you could free one hand just long enough to call the elevator, but no such luck. You lost your balance and, while you caught yourself in time, the box was heading straight for the floor. But then, fast as lightning, a hand reached out and caught the side you’d lost your grip upon.

“That was close! Almost missed a beat!” He said and you immediately smiled in relief.

“Thank you,” You said, a nervous laugh escaping you. You tried to take the box back, but the blonde man easily took it from you with a friendly smile. He was wearing a flattering red jacket and stylish black pants, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“I got it.”

You felt a little awkward, a little dumb, a thousand things, “I don’t wanna bother you.”

“No problemo. Happy to help!” He responded cheerfully, anchoring the box with his hip, and easily calling for the elevator himself. You felt hot under your shirt and you weren’t sure if it was because of the effort of the past boxes or what.

No, fuck it, you knew what it was.

“Hold on, let me get another one before the elevator gets here,” You said, practically running away. There were three boxes left, and you read over the words written on them to try and decide which one would be the easiest one to carry. Or should you take a heavier one? Which would be less embarrassing? You finally picked one that said ‘pictures’ and made your way back, getting inside the already open elevator. He looked over your head, chuckling at the sight of boxes still left behind. He put his box down and told you to wait and you watched in absolute dismay as he stacked the two remaining boxes one on top of the other, easily—easily, the smooth bastard— carrying them over.

You were beet red when he got in the elevator with you, his happy-go-lucky smile threatening to burn you.

“Not to pry, but what’s all this?” He said, almost teasingly, and you had to look away.

“Some boxes went missing during my move. I already got everything else in my apartment.” You said shyly. He hummed, nodding. When you got to the 14th floor, he got off the elevator with two boxes while you carried the other two, thankful that he’d allowed you to help him. He was the one helping you, you knew that, but you still felt embarrassed at the fact.

He’s just a normal neighbor, he’s being friendly.

You got to your door and you pushed it open with your hip, wincing internally at how plain and messy your place was. You lived alone and many of your things had been missing, so you hadn’t bothered with some of your things. Your favorite record was on the counter, right where he placed the boxes he’d helped carry. You turned to steal a glance at his face and you saw him pursing his lips together, trying almost in vain to bite a smile back and you wanted to jump out the window. Still, you inhaled slowly and pushed your embarrassment back, offering him a smile.

“Thanks for the help, really.”

“My pleasure. I’m here all week.” He shot at you with finger guns, almost posing as he did so, and you giggled. He was a little goofy, but you liked that.

“Do you want some help with unpacking?” He asked but you shook your head immediately. “N-no, I’m okay. Thank you, though, I really owe you one!” You gave him a wide, bright smile, and he stared at you for a second. His brows raised a little beneath his glasses and you looked down on instinct, thinking you’d made a weird face. Then you perked up, turning towards your kitchen.

“Oh! Would you like some water? I can also make some tea or coffee if you’d like!” You sounded nervous, you couldn’t help it, but you knew it was the polite thing to do now that he was inside your house.

“I’d love to, but I gotta bounce.” He said, smiling apologetically. You stopped to look at him and then, almost embarrassed, you walked towards the door by his side. “Duty calls, the crowd is cheering, you know how it is.”

You nodded, not really understanding what he meant but smiling regardless. He gave you a small salute and started walking away, you already closing your door behind him. Then, right before it locked,

“It’s Yamada, by the way.”

“Huh?” You asked, reopening the door and peeking your head out. He had another easy-going smile on his lips.

“My name. You told me yours but I haven’t told you mine. I’m Yamada.” With that, he left.

You closed your door with a dumb smile, pinching your cheeks to try and stop yourself from blushing like a teen. You were a grown adult for crying out loud, your cute neighbor helping you out shouldn’t be something to fluster over. Still, you smiled.

You sat right in the division between your balcony and your living room, wanting to feel the night breeze but also wanting to listen to your radio. The device was inside and the volume was low out of respect for your neighbors, and you sighed contentedly as one song ended and another began. Your breath blew away the steam coming out of your mug and you smiled, taking a small sip of your drink. It was a beautiful night, the view of the city looking as if stars had landed on the ground, lights twinkling everywhere.

You always had trouble falling asleep, no matter what you tried. Tea and music helped a little, but at your core, you were a night owl. Most days were the same, you working into the early morning just to make the most out of your nights, but Friday was different. Because on Fridays Present Mic did his radio show and you absolutely loved it. Three hours of music, both foreign and local, only interrupted by one of the most charismatic, funniest heroes out there. What wasn’t there to love?

And now that you had your new place, with that gorgeous view, well, you could’ve stayed out there forever.

“And we’re back! How did you like the new song, listeners?” A familiar, animated voice flowed out of your speakers.

“Tonight, my lovely listeners, I’d like to pose you all with a little situation.” He said, something he did every week without fault. He would ask something to the audience and then, after a few more songs, he’d read a few of the responses he got online. It was sweet and fun and a nice way to interact with his audience, not to mention the only way you had to even speak a word to the guy. For as long as you’d watched the show, your responses had only been read twice thus far and, while frustrated to not get your favorite hero’s attention more often, you were still happy with those two little shoutouts.

“Pardon if I get a little cheesy, but sometimes the melodies of the soul grow tender and you can’t help but wonder a few things.”

You took another sip of your tea, Twitter open in your phone just so you could answer as fast as possible.

“Do you think sometimes life works in our favor?” He paused, chuckled, and then cleared his throat. “See, I think we attract things our way. We write our own songs, if you will. But sometimes I’ll have these moments, where the universe really seems to be trying to get my attention and I won’t be able to tell if it’s really a sign as much as it is a coincidence, you feel me?”

You listened to him intently, your phone forgotten by your side. It was… odd. Really odd. You’d heard this man’s voice over the radio for years but something felt different at that moment. Maybe it was the tone of voice, or the subject being discussed, or who knows what, but you got a different feeling this time. But what was it?

“See, I’ve gotten a few this last week. And I’m sure you all get them all the time. And now I’m thinking that, maybe, if the universe sings to you, it’s only polite to join in, harmonize.”

Something crossed your mind, a quick flash, but you shook your head out of pure instinct. No. There was no way.

“My question, or challenge more like it, to you this week is this: if you think you’ve heard the call recently, answer it. Cause you never know who might be listening to you.”

You saw a flash of green eyes, you remembered two elevator rides, but you kept shaking your head. You even laughed, thinking yourself a total idiot. It was impossible, right? I mean sure the voice was eerily familiar, but that was just a coincidence...

Right?

“Of course, as the dutiful host that I am, I can’t ask you to jam out without a proper beat, so I’ll start. Here’s my attempt at seeing if this week has been anything other than coincidences.”

He went silent and you held your breath for a moment, your expression stuck somewhere between mocking and panicked. Then the next song started playing and it took you about two seconds to recognize it. Was the record sleeve still on the counter? Was the vinyl still beneath the needle, waiting to resume that same, exact song?

A few things crossed your mind at that moment. The superficial, more impulsive side of you kinda wanted to toss the radio out the window. The more intense side of you wanted to scream, because Goddammit, HOW HAD YOU NOT RECOGNIZED HIM AT ANY POINT!? Sure, the few times you two had crossed paths he’d been dressed in civilian clothes, he’d been wearing seeing glasses, and his hair had been held together by a simple bun, rather than the crazy updo that he usually wore. But still, you chided yourself, you’d shared an elevator with him twice already. You’d talked to him, face to face. He’d been inside your home, for crying out loud!

How? Hoooooow?

You groaned, letting your back hit the ground while you covered your face in absolute shame. You stayed down until the song was over and, as other songs played, you started going through every stage of grief, in order.

There was no way, absolutely no way. It was just a coincidence, that was all. Your neighbor just happened to be blonde and handsome and also happened to make a few musical references as he spoke, but that was normal. Anyone could do that. Besides, you’d never seen him in costume; there’s no way a respectable hero would go out wearing casual clothes. What if they ran into danger?

How had you not put the pieces together earlier? You were such an idiot, just talking to him as if he was a normal, cute guy. How had you let him carry your boxes for you!? He probably thought you were so dumb by now. How could you be so blind, so DEAF!? HE’D EVEN TOLD YOU HIS LAST NAME! Why had God cursed you with such stupidity?

At this point he started talking again, reading out some of the responses he’d gotten and encouraging people to ‘go for it!’

Oh God, there was no way you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. You’d never be able to listen to that song again without thinking of how badly you’d messed up, how badly you’d probably offended him by not recognizing him. You’d just moved in, too, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to step foot outside again. Why had he even played that song? Had he been the one to sing with you and then laugh at you? Oh great. He knew you were an idiot. Wonderful. It was over. Your life was over.

No, wait, maybe there was some way to fix this. Maybe he hadn’t been the one to sing and laugh, maybe he’d just listened to that from his own balcony and found it funny. Maybe this ‘sign’ was meant for the other person, the one that sang so much better than you. Maybe you were making all of it up in your head, a stupid fan moment where you really wanted him to know you, really wanted to be that close to him without even knowing. Besides, you could still sell the apartment and move somewhere far away.

You groaned again, pulling at your hair. You stared at the ceiling as the music stopped, as he gave his audience his usual, animated goodnight, even as the night air grew colder. It must have been sometime past midnight when you finally decided to act like a normal adult once more. You got up, switched the radio off, and closed your balcony door. You heaved a sigh, suddenly craving another cup of tea and a nice, long bath.

You shoved a mug full of water inside the microwave, not in the mood to boil the water properly. You watched the cup go round and round, the loud humming of the appliance giving you a crumb of comfort. You had to relax, you told yourself. Everything would be fine.

The sound of the power outage mimicked a sad sigh, the absolute silence of your apartment slapping you in the face. You sighed, resting your forehead against the counter. If the universe really did send out signs, then you wanted to slap the universe smack dab across the face. You glanced outside and, sure enough, all of the buildings and houses in your area had been plunged into absolute darkness.

“Anything else?” You asked to the heavens, slightly annoyed.

From the hallway, you heard a loud crash and a high-pitched yelp, and you sighed as dramatically as you could. You grabbed your phone, turned on the flashlight, and ventured out.

It was kinda creepy, you weren’t gonna lie. You hadn’t lived in there for long enough to grow familiar with anything, so the pitch-black hallway made you shiver. It was like a horror movie set up, you thought as you turned. You’d look down the other end of the hall and a monster would be waiting for you, ready to strike you down.

Except, it wasn’t a ghost or a ghoul. It was Yamada—should you call him Present Mic? Which would be less awkward to you?— with his green eyes wide and his hands outstretched. He’d knocked over one of those silver cylinders where buildings hide their fire extinguishers and you blinked a little at the sight. Why did he look so guilty?

“You okay?” You asked, stepping out of your apartment. You were glad that the light was aimed away from you, cause you knew you looked flustered and dumb.

“My phone died.” He offered as an explanation and you nodded as he placed the metallic container back in place. You shined your light down the hall, landing on the elevator and shivering.

“Thank God you didn’t get trapped in there.” You murmured. He looked up at you, then at the elevator and you saw him shivering. When he turned to face you, he looked sheepish.

“That would have been quite the show ender, huh?” He chuckled and you kinda smiled at him in the dark. This wasn’t awkward, why were you making it awkward on yourself?

You shone your light on the ground so he could make it over to you without tripping again, not that there were any other obstacles in the way. He gave you a disarming smile and suddenly you wanted to run back into your apartment and never come out again. Still, with the power out, your nice side won the battle raging in your chest.

“Which one’s your apartment?” You asked, almost a mumble. Yamada looked at you, blinking a few times, and you waved the light around a little. “I’ll walk you over. Wouldn’t wanna leave you in the dark.”

“Thanks!” He said, in English, and you nodded. He guided you down the hall into apartment 1403, which was on the same side of the hall as your own. Remembering your improvised little concert from a few days ago, you blushed madly. Of course you shared balconies, why wouldn’t you.

“Home sweet home,” He said, looking for his keys amongst an endless amount of pockets. He finally found them and you couldn’t help but smile at the keychains dangling from his set of keys. He had a little black cat, a rose, a little cloud, and a rubber duck, the last one making you giggle quietly. He looked at you in the dark for a moment, not even trying to find the right key. After a few seconds he snapped out of it and he unlocked his door in a flash. He pushed it open a little and neither of you moved.

“Aren’t I lucky you of all people were awake to shine my path,” He joked, sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard him, even from his radio show.

“It’s okay,” You smiled kindly, fighting back your emotions. “I did own you one, after all.”

He chuckled, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck. There was a moment of silence, both of you trying to figure out just what you should do next. You moved your phone, the light illuminating the wall.

“Why are you up so late, anyway?” He asked you. You had to bite back a panicked laugh, the events of the night replaying in your head. Not too late to sell the apartment, you told yourself.

“I was making some tea,” You said lamely, hands fidgeting. It was such a dumb thing to say since it didn’t actually answer his question, but it was all you had. “But then the power went out and, I mean, my stove’s electric anyway. I guess I’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

You added that last part as a segway, a crutch of sorts that would allow you to excuse yourself before you could say anything else that might make you look like more of a fool. It was a shame, really. If you weren’t so embarrassed right now then you might try to keep the conversation going. He was handsome and polite, after all. But no, you had too much in your head, songs and signs and vibrant green eyes and you should probably go now, you told yourself. You mumbled a polite ‘goodnight’ before turning on your heels, already set on going home. Behind you, Yamada hesitated. He swallowed thickly, cursed his dumb brain, and then,

“My stove’s not electric.”

You stopped, frowning.

“Huh?” You turned back, raising the light a little just so you could look at him without outright blinding him. He was playing with his keys, his eyes on the ground. Was that… a blush on his face?

“My stove works even without power,” He explained dumbly, eyes only focusing on you for one second at a time as he spoke. “And I have tea. I mean, I’m not… Do you wanna come inside?” He held out his hands, a quiet and shy offer now between you. It was an invitation, a question and a hopeful wish all in one and his face reflected that perfectly.

You blinked, feeling numb for a second before a warm, tingly feeling crawled up your arms. You wanted to bite back your smile, wanted to convince yourself that he was just being kind, but there were too many coincidences by now.

If the universe is calling, then it’s only polite to respond, right?

“I’d like that. A lot.” You said. His eyes opened wide, forest tones enclosed by a ring of lovely, pastel green, and you smiled. He grinned from ear to ear, finally opening his door fully and stepping aside to let you in.

You hummed for a second, feeling a lot braver than you had in a long while.

“By the way,” You said teasingly, “That’s not my favorite song in the album.”

He blinked, watching you walk into his home with an almost shocked expression. He finally laughed, closing the door behind you both.

#present mic #hizashi yamada x reader #yamada hizashi #bnha x reader #bnha #x reader #reader insert

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prettyyyboyluke · 4 years

Text

The Light Room

you got a taste of the dark room, now here’s the light room

ever since i was shown the dark room, i have made sure to be on my best behavior. i was so sore and tired for at least three days after everything, i even think ashton and luke felt bad since every time we would go somewhere, they could tell that i would wince every few steps. but since then, i have not acted out once. don’t get me wrong, i loved being in there, but it was just so much given to me at one time. we were currently waiting in a lobby for the boys to get an interview that some podcast begged them to come to. normally, i would dread coming to these things because they take so long, but i actually wasn’t upset at all that i was coming with them. it gave me something to do, and i could just sit and watch them talk. the only downfall is that it was extremely early in the morning.

i was resting my head on ashton’s shoulder while we all waited to be escorted back into the room. “you tired, baby?” ashton asks. “just a little, i’m not used to waking up this early.” i responded, snuggling myself further into his side.

“you boys ready? it might be a while, so get comfortable.”

after a grueling three and a half hours, they were finally done with the podcast. i sat patiently outside the room while they were answering questions about the new album, the tour coming up, and whatever other secrets they wanted to know. “that was probably the longest interview we’ve ever done.” luke said, walking out of the room. “you’re done now though, right?” i asked, taking michael’s hand in mine. “yes pretty girl, we’re all yours now.” calum chuckled. once we all piled in the car, we were on our way back home.

“i’m going to take a nap, so if i’m not awake by at least 2:00, someone come wake me up.” i said, walking up to my room. “are you sure you want someone to wake you up? you can get, cranky.” luke said. “i’ll be crankier if i don’t get to sleep, now goodnight.” i answered. after i walked into my room, my clothes were thrown into the hamper and i climbed right into bed to get the extra sleep i desperately needed.

the rest of the boys were in the den, talking about the pod cast from today. “i think that went well. they seemed pretty invested in the album.” michael said. “yeah and the tour too, i think that might have been our best podcast yet.” luke pitches in. “one of the interviewers kept looking towards y/n, and it made me want to slap his face and tell him not to look at her.” ashton says. “they did ask us some pretty interesting questions about her.” calum responds. “she was very well behaved, though. i think what happened in the dark room gave her a run for her money.” luke says. “i can’t blame her for being curious, hell i’d wanna know what was in a room i’m not allowed into.” michael says. “she surprised me with the flogger, i thought she would break right then and there, but nope, she asked for more. guess ashton trained her well.” luke pats ashton on the back. “i think she deserves a reward, after luke wakes her up, why don’t we take her to the light room, she hasn’t been in there for a while, and i bet she’d love going back.” ashton suggests.

the rest of the boys agree and go into the light room. this room was significantly different from the dark room. the light room was white and gold. there were no whips or handcuffs on the walls. in the middle of the room was a white bed with multiple pillows decorating it at the top. instead of holes in the ceiling, it was a giant mirror, so anytime you would be able to look up and see the erotic scene happening below you. on each of the walls there were different pictures, all in black and white. i was wearing the same white lingerie set in all of them.

the first picture was calum sitting in a chair, elbows resting on his knees and his head resting on his hands. i was behind him, with one hand on his shoulder, my hip popped out the slightest bit. the second was a picture of michael and i. he was sitting on the same chair with me straddling his lap and his hands were cupped around my ass. the third picture was a with luke, i was on my knees, palms resting against my thighs while luke was standing above me, admiring how i looked from beneath him. the fourth picture was of ashton. it was a close up of my head tilted to the side so my neck was exposed, and his lips were attached to the skin. the fifth, and final picture was hung above the bed. a picture of all of us. i was in the same position like i was in luke’s, blindfolded, and with each of them standing behind me, holding some type of toy.

there was only one gold dresser in the room that held the most powerful and expensive toys we owned. towards the other end of the room was a closet that had every type of lingerie set we owned, all hung up and organized by color. there was white, cream, grey, light purple, lilac, baby blue, and a pale yellow. right next to the closet was a little seating area, with one chair in the middle, and four surrounding it. the light room was a lot simpler than the dark room, but boy did we have fun in here. above the doors, across from the bed, was a simple phrase i loved to hear.

GOOD GIRLS GET REWARDED

it wasn’t anything special, but every time i heard it, it gave my stomach butterflies.

once 2:00 o’clock hit, luke was tip toeing into my room. “angel, it’s time to wake up.” he whispered, lightly shaking me. i opened my eyes, squinting when i saw the light. “i’m awake.” i sighed. “did you sleep well?” luke asked, smoothing out my bed head. “very well, i could’ve slept longer, but i didn’t wanna waste more of the day.” i yawned. “why don’t you go wake up a bit, and then meet me in the light room, we have a little surprise waiting for you.” luke said before stepping out of my room.

i went to my bathroom and washed my face, letting the post sleep look fade away. i brushed my hair and just let it flow down my back naturally before i finally left the bathroom. when i opened the doors, there was the white lingerie set waiting for me on the bed. ashton was sitting in one of the four chairs, “you’ve been so well behaved that we’ve decided we should reward you.” “so that’s why we’re in here.” “yes baby, now, why don’t you go put on what michael set out for you and then we can start your rewards.” he said, stepping out of the room.

the lingerie set stared back at me. it was the same one i had on in the pictures that were hung up in the room. i put it on, smoothing everything down before the rest of the boys reentered the room. “there’s our pretty girl, give us a spin.” calum said, while the rest were making their way into the room. i spun around, taking my time so they could all get a good look at me. “why don’t you go sit down on the bed for us, angel.” luke said. i sat on the bed, hands in my lap, and waited for what was about to come.

“since you’ve been so well behaved for us, we want to show you what happens to good girls who obey.” michael says, walking up to stand in-between my legs. he leaned down to me, his lips ghosting over mine. i tilted my head up so i could catch his between mine. the kiss was passionate, one of my hands coming to cup his cheek and the other holding onto the openness of his shirt. michael’s tongue slipped passed my lips and started to make it’s way to explore my mouth. one of his hands roamed down my body, stopping at the waist band of my panties. my hips bucked up on instinct, wanting to catch some type of relief from the aching between my thighs.

michael was the first to separate this kiss. “go ahead and lay back for me, princess.” he whispered against my lips. my head hit the pillows and i saw each of them begin to walk around the light room through the mirror on the ceiling. luke and calum went to go sit in two of the chairs by the closet, moving them towards the bed. i completely forgot about michael until his hands spread my legs. “think it’s time for your first reward.” he said, kissing the insides of my thighs. one of his fingers rubbed over my clit, letting the wet spot grow on the underwear. “just relax angel, you’ll get the release you need.” luke said.

the anticipation was killing me. michael loved to make me wait and beg for what he was gonna give me. he finally pulled my panties down, pausing to let his fingers collect some of my arousal. michael’s tongue was flat against my heat, getting it sopping wet. my thighs were pressed up against my stomach, giving michael as much as possible. one of my hands were tangled in his hair, twisting and pulling each time he sucked harshly onto my clit. “oh god, please, right there.” i moaned, my hips rising from the bed. “look at how pretty you look, angel. think we might to take a picture.” luke said. calum went to the closet and grabbed the camera that was sitting on one of the shelves.

he stood behind michael, snapping a picture. my head was thrown back, mouth open, and eyes closed. “you look so pretty like that, baby. you just love this type of attention, don’t you?” ashton said. “mmhm!” i moaned back. my legs began to close around michael’s head, making him hold one of them open with his arm. my breathing became heavier, my stomach tightening when michael put two of his fingers inside me. “just like that, please don’t stop!” i begged. sweat began to form on my forehead while michael continued to lap away at my heat. my hips were rolling into michael, my muscles clenching down onto his fingers. “you wanna cum, pretty girl?” calum asked. “please! oh god, please!”

i could only focus on michael. i sat up on my elbows, watching him. his eyes met mine, determined to get me to where i wanted to be. my bottom lip was between my teeth, biting down while keeping eye contact with michael. his lips enclosed around my clit, my head being thrown back once again. with a few more thrusts of his fingers, my body began to shake. my legs were slightly shaking around him, my mouth open with whimpers spilling out. “that’s a good girl, just like that, sweetheart.” michael praised.

the background was filled with lewd sounds, not only coming from me, but calum as well. his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down. he focused on his tip, letting groans out every now and then. his thumb swiped over his tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking from it. i could tell he was close from just the way he sounded. calum always sounded the same when he was about to cum, his voice got all raspy and his moans were at such a low octave.

my chest was heaving, coming down from the high. “up, angel, let me see that mouth.” luke said, standing up from the chair. i sat up on my knees, tongue out. luke began to unbuckle his pants, sliding them and his boxers down his legs. i crawled towards luke, taking his cock in my hand. i wrapped the tip of his cock in my mouth, sinking down on it slowly. his hands tangled themselves in my hair, guiding me up and down his cock. “just like that, angel. fuck, don’t stop.” he husked. my tongue swirled around his tip, then dragging it on the underside of his cock. i let myself take all of luke down my throat, the head of his cock touching the back of my throat. drool pooled around my mouth, dripping down onto my chin.

“stay just like that, ‘m gonna cum.” luke moaned, holding my head in place. i could feel his cock throb in my mouth, shooting his load right down my throat. i quickly swallowed the salty liquid and let luke slip out of my mouth. “atta girl, taking daddy’s cock like such a good girl.” luke whispered. i smiled up at luke, loving the praise i was getting. “i love being daddy’s good girl.”

calum came and sat on the bed behind me, his boxers loosely on his hips. he moved my hair out of the way, and began to pepper my skin with kisses. he sucked on the skin below, leaving a mark. “so pretty, it’s just asking to get marked up.” calum whispered, making another mark on my neck. “someone, please, fuck me.” i whined, letting my head loll back onto calum’s shoulder. ashton’s jeans dropped to the floor, his cock in his hand. “you wanna get fucked, doll?” he asks, spitting into his hand. “please, i want it so bad.”

ashton let his cock collect my arousal, parting my lips before sliding right into me. he held my legs back, letting calum take them so he focus on his hip movements. ashton moved at a very pleasurable pace, making me feel every inch of him. “feel good, pretty girl?” calum asks. “so good, fuck, just like that.” i moaned. ashton picked up the pace the slightest bit, hitting the spongy spot that made me cry. my legs were starting to get out of calum’s grip. “ah ah, you keep em here, just feel what ashton’s giving to you.” he whispers.

ashton kept a strong gaze on me, watching how i reacted to him. he continues to go harder, catching me off guard, my body spasming, clenching down on his cock inside me. “ah,” i gasp, back arched and toes curled. “you like that? look at how you just swallow my fucking cock.” the pace fastens incredibly, ashton’s skin slapping against my own. my breath grew jagged, trying my best to keep it under control with the amount of pleasure i was gaining. i could feel the pit of stomach turn to a knot, begging to be unraveled. “oh god, please, please,” was the only thing i could muster. my eyes were glued shut that the only thing i could see were little white spots. my walls closed around ashton, making it harder for him to move inside me.

“fuck, baby, ‘m not gonna last much longer.” ashton grunted. one of calum’s hands went down to rub fast circles around my clit, while his arm still held my leg back. “don’t fucking stop, don’t you fucking stop!” i groaned. “such a dirty mouth for such a sweet girl.” calum said, continuing to move his hand. i could feel that knot begin to unravel, waves of pleasure moving through every part of my body. my bottom lip was between my teeth, biting down so hard it was just about to draw blood.

i gave my all to ashton, while he road out my orgasm with his quickly approaching. “daddy, please, i want it.” i begged for him to keep going. his hips were thrusting against mine hard. i was extremely sensitive, but ashton didn’t stop until he was spewing his release inside me. his shoulders hunched making him muster the most inhumane groans. once ashton had pulled out of me, his release and mine were dripping onto the sheets. his finger caught the smallest bit of it and brought it up to my mouth. “go ahead, taste it.” he says, putting his pointer finger into my mouth.

calum was rubbing my arm up and down slowly, calming me down from the second orgasm of the day. i closed my eyes and continued to suck on ashton’s finger until my breath was under control. “there’s our good girl, you want more?” calum whispered. i didn’t say anything, i couldn’t focus on anything other than my body feeling like jello. i shook my head against his shoulder, letting any feeling come back to me. “c’mon, look at me, angel.” luke said, tapping the side of my cheek. my eyes fluttered open, meeting luke’s blue ones. “think you’re gonna behave now?” he asks, rubbing my cheek. i nodded my head and let my eyes shut again.

“we don’t need to go to the darker room, doll.”

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Month of Miracles Day 5 - Decoration

Find the prompt list here!

I have meddled with powers I did not fully understand and now the Hallmark AU has gripped me. I think you can expect to see more of this sprinkled throughout the month. Oh, well. Multiparters in prompt months are like a tradition for me now, right?

Hallmark Movie AU

Imagine, Marinette thought as she helped Rose unpack the decorations and ornaments to go on the tree, Luke Stone in a town like this.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard of him releasing anything new recently. So he was from this town, then? He must be on vacation, visiting his family and helping out at the farm. Taking a break, maybe writing some new songs. Funny, to think of the glammed up, heavily bedazzled rock star wearing flannel and working on a Christmas tree farm.

Marinette had winced the day before, watching him tear up his palms hauling the tree she’d picked out yesterday and tie it down deftly with fingers that had to be worth millions of dollars. It pained her to think of the hands that had created such beautiful music being abused in such a way. Surely he should have been wearing gloves, at least. He’d been so cold to her, though, that Marinette hadn’t dared suggest it or question him.

She’d been skeptical when Jagged Stone’s son had made his debut on tour alongside his father. She’d been a longtime fan of the older Stone and didn’t think even his own flesh and blood would be able to match him—but the younger Stone hadn’t tried. Luke’s music was clearly influenced by his father, but was also entirely his own, but so evocative, so emotional, she had been pulled in despite her reservations. She owned every one of Luke Stone’s albums, including the special edition greatest hits album, which she had bought even as she complained to Alya that he was too young in his career to be releasing a greatest hits album.

Marinette hadn’t said much to Rose about the encounter, not sure whether it was common knowledge amongst the town that he was here, and not wanting to infringe on his privacy if it wasn’t. Rose had given her a funny (disappointed?) look when she mentioned the grumpy young man that had helped her, but hadn’t said anything about it, just asked Marinette to come back today and give her a hand decorating the tree after the maintenance staff got it set up.

It wasn’t as if Marinette had much else to do, and Gina’s house felt huge and empty with just her in it, so she’d agreed, and here she was unpacking dusty boxes that had been hauled out of storage. She sighed as she surveyed the contents. The boxes looked like they’d been packed up by unsupervised five-year-olds last year.

She was sorting the decorations into piles, still absently pondering the mystery of Luke Stone, when the library doors slid open, and the man himself walked in. He was dressed much the same as he had been yesterday, in layers that hid the muscular shoulders and arms he displayed on stage. Before Marinette could react, Rose flitted past her.

“Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing herself at him. “You’re here!” Luka staggered slightly but wrapped one arm around her waist to catch her, holding her with her feet dangling off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks, her arms wrapped around his neck. Marinette stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

“That was enthusiastic,” Luka laughed, looking down at the petite blond hanging off of his tall frame.

“I’m happy to see you!” Rose smiled brightly.

“You just saw me at dinner last night.” Luka bent his knees and set her on the ground. Rose took the hint and let him go, but bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I told you I’d come, he added.”

“And now you’re here!” Rose threw out her arms. “I’m so glad! I have so much to do to get the childrens’ program ready and the decorations are so much for poor Marinette to manage by herself! Have you met Marinette?” she inquired, turning and holding out her arms to present her friend. Marinette closed her mouth and tried to smile as she gave a little wave. “I think you did,” Rose continued, turning to give him a warning look. “I think she said she ran into you at the farm.”

Luka felt embarrassment creeping up his neck at Rose’s clearly scolding look. He nodded at Marinette. “Briefly, yeah. Nice to see you, Marinette.” He pronounced her name carefully, feeling bad about teasing her yesterday. She smiled a little more, and then looked down, her hands fluttering around the decorations she’d been separating.

“You can get the lights on the tree while Marinette finishes working out that stuff,” Rose suggested, pointing to a pile of lights sitting near Marinette. “You’re nice and tall, so that should make things easy. There’s step stools in the kids’ area if you need them. Come here and I’ll show you what I want.” She hooked his arm and pulled him around to the far side of the tree. “The plug’s over here, so you’ll need to start on this side.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Rose slapped his arm. “Dummy!” she scolded in a whisper. “I didn’t send her to the farm so you could be mean.”

“I wasn’t mean,” Luka protested weakly, and then frowned. “What do you mean, you sent her?” He gave his not-quite-sister a suspicious look, and then leaned slightly to look around the tree and make sure they were out of earshot.

He paused. Marinette had been cute yesterday in her puffy pink coat and earmuffs, but he hadn’t really had time to notice her. Now she looked trendy but comfortable in pigtails and a soft pink sweater over skinny jeans, her profile turned to him. She was an authentic kind of pretty, he reflected, but then Luka had found himself thinking that about a lot of people since he’d left the rock star world, where everybody wore layers of stage makeup, styled and coiffed and dressed so that every detail about them enhanced the image they wanted to project.

Still, her full lips made a pretty bow, especially when she pouted them slightly in concentration, and her hair had a shine that came from health rather than product, and her eyes were—

Rose’s elbow in his ribs jolted him out of what must have been a pretty intense stare, and he flushed, leaning back slightly so he couldn’t see Marinette on the other side of the tree.

“She already thinks you’re mean,” Rose hissed. “Don’t be a creep on top of it.”

Luka winced. He didn’t need Rose’s reminder to feel guilty for behaving so abruptly yesterday. Already prickly from a morning of needling by his mother, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to recognize him. No one had up until this point, and he’d thought he was safe. It was an unpleasant shock to have a stranger recognize him, especially someone from the city who might carry word of his presence here back to the press. His mother’s call had sounded like his guardian angel’s trumpet in that moment. When Juleka had called him to help tie her chosen tree on top of her car, he’d done the work quickly and silently, and avoided her gaze as much as possible.

He’d felt bad about it later, when he’d had time to relax and reflect, but he hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly hadn’t expected to have Rose practically throwing her at him. He gave her a warning look.

Rose opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Marinette popped around the side of the tree. “Rose, do you have some scissors anywhere?”

“Yes, in the cabinet behind the desk,” Rose said, pointing. “Probably on the top three shelves, there’s a box of craft supplies there. You might as well bring over the whole thing in case you need anything else. Let me know if it’s too high up and I’ll send Luka to grab them instead.”

“Got it,” Marinette smiled, and turned to follow Rose’s directions.

Luka shot Rose a glare. “Quit it,” he warned.

“Quit what?” Rose inquired, with a blink and head tilt that made her look like she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together.

Luka knew better.

“I don’t need any help, Rose,” Luka muttered, folding his arms. “I could find a relationship on my own if I wanted to.”

“Mmhm,” Rose hummed in a disbelieving tone. “Because there’s so many to choose from here in this little town.”

Luka rolled his eyes and didn’t reply.

“I do like Marinette though,” Rose said, and smiled innocently when Luka gave her a look. “She’s really sweet. We only met a couple of days ago and here she is, bending over backward to get me a real tree and spending her time decorating it.”

“You set her up,” Luka accused, peeking around the tree briefly to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet. “You’re trying to set me up.”

“She’s so creative,” Rose sighed. “She showed me some of her portfolio the other day, and it’s fantastic. She’s a fashion designer, you see.”

Luka snorted. “Oh, yeah, she’ll totally fall for me. Without my stylist I’m a fashion disaster and you know it Rose.”

“That just makes you a challenge,” Rose chirped, and then softened a little as she looked at him. “Look, I know you’re not looking right now, but that’s a stupid attitude to have when an amazing person just drops into your lap.” She tossed her head in a move he was sure she’d picked up from Juleka, though it was less effective without Juleka’s mane to accent it. “I should know. Anyway, do what you want, I just think she’s neat and I wanted you to meet her. I’ve got a good feeling about her. If I’d met her two years ago I’d totally steal her from you. If you’re smart, you’ll keep an open mind.”

Luka sighed, but he saw a flicker of pink and when he glanced around the tree again, Marinette was back, the box of supplies at her side. She was lifting a large tinsel garland from the box she’d just opened, only to find it was all a tangled mass. There was a sort of mournful look on her face, a little droop of sadness, maybe even loneliness, to her shoulders. He remembered the tightness in her eyes and around her mouth yesterday, and the way she’d spilled out her reason for being here at the slightest nudge. A fashion designer—that was a cutthroat business, especially in the city. Poor thing was probably as tired and strung out as he’d been when he came home.

He wasn’t even aware he’d sighed until Rose giggled at his elbow. “I think you can figure the lights out on your own,” she said with a little pat to his arm. “I’m going to get back to getting ready for the children’s program. You two just...have fun, okay? Make it festive!” She fluttered her hands at the tree, then waved at Marinette and abandoned him to the awkwardness.

It didn’t take long to get the lights on the tree—Luka had plenty of practice after getting the farm set up for the season. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He glanced at Marinette. She had finished the sorting and was back to struggling with the tangled garland, and the look of utter defeat on her face...hurt, somehow.

“Can I give you a hand?” Luka found himself offering.

Marinette started slightly, and in an instant her shoulders went back and her smile flashed back into being. Luka was surprised to realize that it didn’t feel fake, despite the fact that he had seen her feelings on her face just a moment before. She was hiding those feelings now, but the smile she offered him was as sincere as the sadness.

“Um, sure, if you want to,” she said, holding up the garland in two hands. “It’s pretty twisted up. We could just leave it, but...might as well give it a shot, right?”

Luka took a handful of garland, and Marinette took another one farther down. They moved apart, spreading it out as far as it could go between them to try and see where it twisted back on itself.

“This looks like the end,” Marinette muttered, plucking at a piece. “Can you just hold it up for a minute?”

Luka did, watching Marinette as she looped the end she’d found back over and under and through the glittering mass. The silence was awkward, and the more Luka tried to think of something to say, the more he felt like there was only one thing he could say.

“Listen, I wanted to apologize—” he began as Marinette said, “Luka, I’m really sorry—”

They both stopped, and laughed, and Luka gestured for her to go ahead.

“I just,” Marinette pushed her hair back and glanced at him, then looked away. “I wanted to apologize for blurting that out about—you know—I should have thought, I should have realized you wouldn’t want to be approached like that, while you’re clearly not working—well, you were working, but not, not like that and I should have—well. I’m really sorry. You’re at home and you probably don’t want people gushing all over you while you’re trying to spend time with your family.”

Luka took a breath, looking at the floor for a moment. “I wanted to apologize too, for being so abrupt with you. I...hadn’t had the best morning, and you did startle me. I’m...well, I guess you could maybe say I’m retired, and I’d rather not be...known, here. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Retired?” Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “But your music was so good! I mean—” She flushed, and grabbed the garland, moving to start draping it around the tree. “I really liked it, anyway. Sorry, I know it’s not my business...Anyway, I understand, and I won’t tell anyone I met you here.” The garland she was trying to place slipped off, and she sighed in frustration. “I swear Christmas hates me,” she muttered to herself.

Luka picked up the trailing end and held it so that the weight was no longer dragging. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and then she said, “How long have you and Rose been together?” This time the garland stayed where she placed it, with Luka feeding her more as she circled around the tree.

“Together?” Luka repeated, startled. “We’re not together. She’s dating my sister, actually. In fact if they’re not engaged by New Years I’ll be shocked.”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at him. “O-oh. Oh! Oh, I understand now.” She flushed. “Just, before—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Luka grinned. “I can see how that would look if you didn’t know.”

“Wow, how off base was I, though,” Marinette giggled. “So your family’s from around here? I—oh, that sounded nosy didn’t it, I’m sorry, I swear I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Luka chuckled. “Actually my family just moved here a few years ago. When my mom bought the tree farm I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims and she’d move on to something else before long, but she seems really happy here. What about your grandma? Gina doesn’t seem like the small town type, either.”

The conversation flowed comfortably from there, as they finished the garland and moved on to the other decorations. Marinette didn’t ask him any more questions about his music, and he carefully steered clear of asking her any questions about why she’d come—or been sent—down to their little town, and faster than Luka could have expected, they were closing up the empty boxes and stacking them to the side to be returned to storage. Marinette had a good eye, Luka had to admit as he looked at the tree. Not surprising, he supposed, but it did look a lot nicer than the previous year’s tree. Not only that, Marinette had arranged the extra decorations on the library desk in a pretty little display, and with his help, had even trimmed the windows with some icicle lights they found at the bottom of one of the boxes. Luka knelt to plug in the last set of lights, and when they were on, the whole library screamed holiday cheer to an almost obnoxious degree.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Rose appeared behind him.

“Wow, look at this place, it’s awesome! Everything looks great! You two make a fantastic team!” She grinned at Luka, and he raised his eyebrows at her in warning. “Everything is so festive,” Rose went on, clearly ignoring him, as she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips and examined them, “except for you two. You’re ruining the mood.”

Faster than Luka could track she whipped something out and stuck it to his forehead, then turned and did the same to Marinette. Only when he saw the bright blue gift bow stuck to Marinette’s forehead did he realize what Rose had just done to them, and he rolled his eyes as he reached up to touch the bow on his own forehead. Rose swatted his hand away and then grabbed his arm, hauling at him until he had no choice but to stand up or fall over.

“There, now you’re properly decorated too,” Rose beamed. “All right, you two have spent all morning helping me, so get out of here and go do something fun! It’s such a pretty day!”

“Rose, it’s freezing,” Luka tried to say, but Rose was already pushing them towards the door, and he gave into the inevitability of it all with a sigh.

“Go down to the café, have lunch on my tab, both of you,” she ordered, dumping their coats in Luka’s arms before shoving them out of the door. “Thanks for all your help!” she called, waving at them as the doors slid closed.

“Real subtle,” Luka grumbled, reaching up to peel the bow off his forehead as he turned to face Marinette. That was a mistake, because the way her mouth was pursed in a little moue as she worked to remove her own bow was kind of adorable.

Damnit, Rose.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #hallmark au #is that even a thing lol #it is now #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #quickfic #promptfic

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nsfwsportsanimebabes · 4 years

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S/O with the best vibes headcanons

Description: can I request kuroo, and the Miya twins w a fem s/o or crush (whichever u want:3) who’s room has just like the most chill vibes, like they have a record player, lots of plants, books, fairy lights, and a cute colour theme that they just adore. Maybe like their first time coming to visit & staying till 2am cause it’s just so welcoming and calm?

Requested: YESSSS OF COURSEEEE🥺🥺🥺 this is so pure and I’m excited to get these hashed out for you🥺🥺🥺 honestly both your admins HARDCORE relate to these vibes. Like we both have these things scattered between our apartments. So you’re really pulling on some great vibes here. I’ll try not to go too overboard 😉☺️

A/N: soooo uhhh. I’m not dead.. lolol. Just kinda reallyyyyy lost any motivation to write for not only this blog, but any writing in general honestly. BUT this blog is still kicking, we do still take requests in, and love seeing them. I plan on doing a few more requests and/or WIPS that motivation comes for.

Also..I apologize if Osamu’s isn’t the greatest, I did his first and this is the first scenario type post I have done in a longgggggggg time. But regardless hope you all enjoy! ~Admin Crow 💚

Miya Osamu

“and if you push this button on the remote you can totally change the colors to the lights too. Pretty neat right?”

To be honest, Osamu didn’t hear much of your explanation of all the things in your room. Mostly because he was overwhelmed by the pure vibes coming from your room. He was a little surprised that you had invited him over to study. You two hadn’t been dating for very long, so inviting him over to study, in your bedroom no less, had taken him by surprise. But of course curiosity got the best of Samu, so he wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity. Looking around, he noticed the way your lights were set up to give off whatever color you wanted to hit every corner of the room. And how your cute little starter plants overtook your dresser. Candles of specific colors adorned your bookshelf where you had organized them by color to match an obvious theme you were going for. Osamu especially enjoyed the record player that had music softly playing; the record turning slowly to match the music coming out of it. He’d have to investigate your books and records later when you showed him your favorite ones.

He took in the way your lights had pictures hanging from them, most of them were pictures you had taken with your friends. But he noticed the corner by your bed had ones the two of you had taken together. For some reason Osamu found that really sweet.

“Samu? Did you here me? Hello, earth to Osamu.” you called out, trying to gain the attention of your boyfriend, who had been staring at your fairy lights after taking in your room for a solid 3 minutes without looking or acknowledging you comments. You were nervous about what his response to your room would be. The way you decorated your room was in a way that really showed who you were, and you didn’t want to just share that with anyone.

Osamu finally realized you were calling him and turned to look at you with a lazy smile noticing your slightly guarded look and could tell you were waiting for a response. “Come here F/n, there’s no reason to be anxious, I totally think your set up is amazing. Show me more?”

Miya Atsumu

“You have so many books F/N! How the hell do you afford all of these!?” Atsumu had never seen so many books outside of a library in his life. The fact that you had two full size, five shelf book shelves in your room side by side. Each bookshelf adorned with rows and stacks of books taking up every possible space that you could cram a book into.

You rubbed the back of your head blushing slightly “well....I found most of them at bookstores, thrift stores, sales, friends and family who gave them as gifts...” you rambled, not sure what his response would be.

Atsumu ran to another corner of your room immediately starting to flip through your almost equally impressive stack of records. When you had invited Atsumu over to work on a school paper together, you didn’t know what his thoughts of your room would be. Even though you two had been best friends since you were 6, he had yet to been inside your room. Although your locker at school had a lot of similar vibes as your room, a few mini plants you had snuck into school were on the top shelf, pictures adorning your locker door, and other things gave Atsumu an idea of your inner vibes.

It was something he really loved about you. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was dying to see what your room looked like. Any chance to get closer to you was really his end goal. I mean, he’s been trying to go over to your place for years to be shot down every time. But the opportunity had finally arrived and you had caved, finally allowing him the opportunity into your private life.

“Hey F/N, got any secret journals hidden amongst all of these books full of secrets you haven’t shared with me?” he teased going back to the books scattered over your desk.

Sighing, you sunk into your corner of comfy, plushy bean bag pillows and called for him to join you “Knock it off Tsumu, get over here and sit down so we can work on this paper please?”

Atsumu took one look at the comfy looking pile before taking three long strides and plopping down onto the one next to you, jostling you and your laptop in the process. “I could really get used to hanging out here F/N. I say we start having movie nights at your place. In fact, let’s just do everything over here from now on.”

“Don’t push your luck there Tsumu.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“can I choose the next record F/N?”

Looking up from your sketchbook, you noticed your boyfriend looking over at you with a lazy look. To be honest, he looked completely at home, fitting in with the glow of the fairy lights that you had dimmed just enough to allow you guys to see what you were doing.

Kuroo had been surprised when you suggested doing homework together at your house, since his room was the usual hang out spot, unless you chose to be outside in nice weather. It’s not that he didn’t think you didn’t want him in your room, he was just usually the first to suggest studying over at his place.

But seeing the way your room just gave off vibes that were purely, you, had Kuroo ready to study and hang out here all the time. He found your room a chill environment, but still productive enough that he wasn’t wasting his time studying. He had particularly enjoyed flipping through your pile of records, and naming off fun facts of all the cute plants you had scattered in perfect places in your room to capture the sunlight.

You nodded at Kuroo’s question, returning to your sketchbook, immediately getting lost in the drawing you were working on for class again. A few minutes later you recognized the soft melody of your and Kuroo’s favorite song coming from the record player. Suddenly two strong, volleyball and chemistry note taking worn, hands gently took your pencil and sketchbook from you. Setting them down next to you before pulling you to your feet and into your dorky boyfriend’s arms.

“Tetsu you cannot dance for your life. What are we doing?” you laughed, letting him pull you close and swaying with him.

“I can’t dance?! Excuse me have you not seen the grace and beauty that I have on the volleyball court? What makes you think I can’t use that to dance with my beautiful girlfriend?” he defended, although you both knew you were right.

Laughing you took control, despite the obvious difference in sizes between you two, and spun under his arm, enjoying the quick way he caught himself from tripping. Whether the two of you could dance or not, it didn’t matter. Spending this time with Kuroo was like the world had stopped moving around you. If you could spend forever here in his arms in your room forever you certainly would.

Although it wouldn’t be spent dancing as Kuroo ruined that moment by throwing you over his shoulder and flopping down on your bed deciding it was time for cuddles while enjoying the rest of your album playing your favorite songs. The two of you laughing and sharing special secret moments that would stay inside your four bedroom walls for eternity.

#Haikyuu Scenarios #Miya Osamu #Miya Atsumu #Kuroo Tetsuro #Osamu x Reader #Atsumu x Reader #Kuroo x Reader #Miya Twins #Inarizaki #Nekoma #Haikyuu!!#thank you for a fun request #I enjoyed it so much!#Admin Crow

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knifefather · 4 years

Text

KnifeFather’s Kinktober 2020, 18+ NSFW ➼ Day 18: Anal play or coercion ➼ Pairing: Goth!Bruno Bucciarati ➼ Word count: 2.1k ➼ Reader is AFAB and female pronouns are used. ➼ This is part one of two. ➼ Also available on Ao3. ➼ Warning: Both the reader and Bruno are intoxicated during this fic. If drinking or recreational drug use is not your jam, please be cautious while reading this.

You attend a concert and meet the perfect stranger.

The feeling of alcohol stinging the back of your throat distracted you as best as it could from your anxiety. The club was loaded--many other people dressed in the same black clothing as you stood about, talking amongst themselves while they waited for the band to begin their set. Your friend, Narancia, was busy chatting up a girl that he had met on the way into the joint. She was petite with bright pink hair, and her sizeable, poofy black skirt bunched up around her like a cloud. You sat on the other side of him, shooting back the second shot you ordered. Or was it the third?

You were never good at these kinds of things. Even though you were surrounded by like-minded people, you could never get past that incredible hump of social anxiety. You were kinda lost without Narancia and found yourself sticking close to him when you went to shows. The club began to grow smoky pretty quickly. The stench of weed filled your nostrils, and your head began to swim.

Suddenly, you heard the place erupt in noise, whoops and hollers coming from near the stage. The two girls performing came on to set up their equipment, and already they were getting a positive reaction. The lead singer strummed her guitar, testing out the speaker. At least the music was about to begin and that would give you something to focus on. You looked over at Narancia, and he was still busy talking with the girl. Interestedly, the girl wriggled a finger under one of the black leather straps that Narancia wore on his chest. She smiled at him and tugged on it flirtatiously, her blood-red lipstick making her wolfish smile all the more predatory. He began to blush, sputtering at the attention. He was definitely going to get laid tonight. You figured you would leave him to it.

You rose from your seat and decided to start making your way towards the stage as well. The girls introduced their band and thanked the audience for attending. Most of the clubbers were near the stage now. You looked around, taking in the crowd. A few people looked interesting and you thought about going up to talk to them, but the feeling of anxiety in your gut held you in place. As you checked out the group of people, your eyes fell on possibly the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His chin-length dark hair blended into the background, admittedly, and his equally dark outfit fitted his body wonderfully. He was talking to another man, tall and with long silver hair. They were mostly keeping to themselves, making chitchat while the music started. As you gazed at them, the man looked over in your direction, noticing your gaze. You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to act like you weren’t looking. You were thankful when the drummer began playing the opening notes. You tossed a gaze over your shoulder, hoping to see Narancia close by, but you couldn’t see his dark purple hair anywhere. Great. You swallowed thickly and paid attention to the display on stage.

They began to play the next one. The instrumentals went much harder than the last song, and a pit began to open up behind you. You were too skittish for mosh pits, so you quickly ducked out of the way of the other concert-goers. As you moved away, you felt your back collide with someone, hard. You whipped around to apologize, only to see it was the casanova you were checking out only moments before. His painted black lips tugged into a smile while you apologized to him over the loud music.

“You’re fine,” he insisted.

“What?” you asked, the floor and stage vibrating from the sounds around you.

“I said, ‘you’re fine’,” the stranger said again, ducking down to your level and speaking a little louder. Still, you had no idea what he fucking said.

“I’m so sorry, but I have no idea--” you began, yelling over the music. Carefully, he grabbed your arm and ushered you away from the edge of the pit. It was becoming intense as they switched to another fast-paced song, the lead singer still screaming with gusto. As he led you out of the crowd, it was already noticeably quieter. You didn’t see his tall friend anywhere near. “I said,” he began, chuckling, “‘you’re fine’.”

“Thanks. You are too,” you responded without thinking. When you realized what you said, you quickly looked away from him. Did you really just do that? The man’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He looked you over, taking in your appearance. His eyes lingered a bit too long before he looked back up into your eyes. His blue ones were hypnotizing--they made you feel oddly special. They were a bit hazy, just like yours.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n. You?”

“Bruno. Y/n, would you perhaps like to come back to my place after the show?” he asked. Just then, the lead vocalist announced they were going to slow down the set. A soft, lachrymose guitar settled over the club. The singer was singing sweetly now, the steady beat of the drum syncing up with your heartbeat.

“Yes,” you answered, again without thinking. You shouldn’t--you should stay at the club with Narancia. But you had no clue where he was, and he was probably getting some. Why shouldn’t you do the same? Besides, you’d text him after a while to let him know where you were. “Do you… wanna leave now?” you asked boldly, giving him a sly smile.

“Let me tell my friend that I’m leaving,” he said before politely excusing himself to disappear into the crowd. You were alone again, hanging on the outskirts of the crowd. You smelled the skunky stench of marijuana again, and suddenly a joint was being passed to you from another stranger, a woman in a cloak with large, blocky brows. You accepted the joint and took a toke for bravery before passing it to the person next to you. It wasn’t long before Bruno was back at your side, guiding you out of the club with a hand on the small of your back. The sound of the new song playing disappeared into the background.

The night was quiet, yet clear, the streetlights illuminating more than the club did. You had a better look at Bruno under the light. Your interesting new partner was tall, with a muscular but slender built. The brilliant color of his irises stood out even more under the streetlights. You were astounded at how lucky you had gotten. Bruno was beginning to lead you away from the club, down the sidewalk.

“I live near here, so I figured we could walk a bit,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of down the street. You told him that was fine, and you both disappeared from the outside of the club. “I’m not exactly sober, so I wouldn’t want to chance driving." "I'm in the same boat as you," you replied. The slanted lights elongated both of your shadows, making your dark forms look all the more threatening. Bruno’s shirt jingled softly as he walked along, the zippers and chains shifting. You narrowed your eyes to his legs and saw more, along with form-fitting pants that you observed for longer than necessary. He began to make conversation with you, learning more about who you were and where you came from. He was native to Napoli and you were not, so he gave you many pointers about the city and what kinds of places to eat at. Specifically, one restaurant that he claimed had the best food in the city, Libeccio. He was full of knowledge about Napoli and tips on how to live in it. You had been living there for a few years and knew everything that he was telling you, but you enjoyed hearing him speak, so you didn't interrupt.

You realized how intoxicated you were when you arrived at Bruno’s place and there were steps. The platforms that you wore wearing didn’t help you either, and you struggled to climb them straight. You felt Bruno’s arms curl around your waist, and even though he was fucked up too, he still helped you. You did better than you would have on your own, so you allowed it.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted by a grand window overlooking the rest of the city. You weren’t surprised to find that his place was decorated according to his fashion tastes. Most of his furniture was black leather with appropriate matching tables, as well as minimalistic decor mimicking an almost Victorian aesthetic. What fascinated you the most was the large collection of records that Bruno proudly displayed in his living room. The collection was contained in about three large shelves, all several inches taller than you, and all full. You then observed a small stack of records sitting on the edge of the coffee table nearby.

“I need to get another shelf. I’m running out of space,” he said, his tone a bit bashful. “You can choose some for us to listen to.” You nearly felt honored being allowed to touch his music collection. While you looked over the shelves, you realized there were several different genres contained on them, including older jazz like Miles Davis. You were relieved to be with someone that had an open ear. Days of Future Passed by The Moody Blues called out to you, so you grabbed that one and tucked it under your arm.

“So, tell me about you. You haven’t really said much about yourself,” you said without looking at him. You were busy choosing between two albums now. Bruno raised a pierced brow before responding.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

You gave a nervous chuckle before choosing The Gold Experience by Prince. “Just mostly making sure you’re not gonna murder me or something,” you said, half-joking. He was quiet for a moment, and you looked over to see his expression. He gave you a dismissive look before replying.

“I don’t want to murder you, I promise. I don’t think it would be within either of our interests,” he said, the corners of his plump, black lips pulling up in a smile. “I’m trying to make you feel good, not hurt you,” he whispered beside you, and you felt your shoulders tense. His little comment caught you off guard, and soon, you felt your stomach flutter pleasantly. You looked over at him, and he gazed back, giving you an interested, heavy-lidded look. “Unless you enjoy a little pain?” he asked, looking you up and down like he did at the club. He was closer than you remembered him being.

“Maybe I do,” you teased, setting down the records, forgetting all about them. The truth be told, you were kinky in a lot more ways than just being a masochist. “Would you like to find out?” you invited, folding your hands behind your back coquettishly. Bruno drew closer to you, pulling your hips into his grasp. When he looked down at you, his long black hair framed his face, his jaw appearing perfectly chiseled. The dark makeup he wore around his eyes made the man's gaze pop. His pupils dilated as he looked down at you.

“I would,” he responded simply, before leaning in and capturing your lips in his. Your lips--no, your whole face --tingled as the man moved his mouth over yours, smacking softly in the room. You moaned into the kiss and fisted your hands in his sweater, pulling him as close as he could be. The exchange was hot as Bruno’s warm lips slotted against yours. His kiss was hungry, yet respectful, and you could tell he was holding back on you. To get a reaction out of him, you slid your hands down his sides and to his waistline. You began to fiddle with his belt-buckle, but he caught your hands in his.

He pulled away from the kiss and gave you a pointed look. “Not yet… I want to have my fun with you first, dolcezza,” he said. He gave you a few more kisses and gazed down at you, his forehead pressed against yours. “I want this to last a while,” he spoke softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. All you could do was nod and gaze back at him, your voice failing you. Still holding your hands, he guided you away from the shelves and down the hall to his bedroom. The rest of his home was decorated in the same style as the living room. The exciting adrenaline pumping through you made your vision blur, like you were caught in a whirlwind but perfectly fine with it.

#bruno bucciarati #jjba #not sfw #day 19 part 1 #my work #backup #kinktober entry #tw substance use #tw alcohol #tw marijuana

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satoruverse · 3 years

Text

au! baker gojo x bookstore owner getou

warnings: none

wc: 2254

The snow fell softly as it crunched under the long-haired man's feet, his cheeks nice and rosy as of course it was winter. The bell rang out signifying that a customer had entered the bakery. He looked around to see decorations being put up with faint Christmas music playing in the background. One of the regulars at his bookstore always told him the fruit tart from the bakery across the street was to die for. Suguru decided that today would be the day for him to try it out, so that’s how he ended up here.

“Oi, old man someone’s here to order! Hurry up,” The girl called out before quickly turning around and instructing the two boys where to put what decorations.

This made Suguru laugh a bit to himself, but he turned around to face the counter, coming face to face with a man he did not expect, he was tall with white hair, and bright blue eyes. A quite attractive young man at that with the softest smile he’s seen in a while.

“Uh hello! Welcome to Satoru’s Bakery, how may I help you today? Sorry for the commotion, we’re setting up decorations,” He said softly.

Suguru blinked twice, before blushing again, he was staring into the man’s eyes.

“Oh well, I’m the owner of the bookstore across from this bakery, and I would like to buy one fruit tart please? I’ve heard they’re to die for,” Suguru said smiling back and Satoru nodded.

“Alright, coming right up!” Satoru said while humming the song playing in the background softly.

Suguru watches as Satoru slips on a glove and carefully slips the fruit tart into some wrapping and then into a winter themed box, taping over some doodle (drawn by Itadori) and then placing the box down while turning to the register typing in the price for the fruit tart.

“That’ll be $3.50 sir. Hello, are you alright? You seem spaced out,” Satoru says with a small laugh after.

Suguru’s heart clenched slightly upon hearing his laughter, before he noticed he found himself laughing with the baker. He handed the money to him with a polite smile while Satoru received the nicely decorated box. Thanking Satoru quickly, he waved goodbye and went out of the shop, the same bell jingling accompanying him.

“He was completely lost in your eyes Satoru,” Nobara said, leaning her head on her hand as she smirked up at him.

Satoru blushed slightly, before waving her off quickly.

“Don’t you have more decor to put missy? Also, don’t call me an old man. I'm only in my late 20s,” Satoru said with a frown.

Nobara laughed a bit but nodded before turning back around to instruct Itadori and Megumi on her vision for the rest of the decorations.

Itadori quickly put down his decoration taking the hands of Nobara and Itadori before pulling them away as Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas played. “What are you doing idiot?” Megumi asked with a sigh.

“Let’s dance together cmon,” Itadori said and the other two gave in, swaying with him slowly.

Satoru walked in with a soft smile, taking a picture of the trio, making a mental note to print it out for the album Satoru has filled with their christmas pictures. Megumi caught Satoru looking at them and quickly pulled him over so they could all dance together. The bakery got busy again after as it was lunch time, so many people would be stopping by. The bakery was split into two, an area to eat, accompanied with an outside area as well, and where people could buy their food. After quite the busy day Satoru found himself sighing while he stretched, he had sent the kids home, he looked out the window to see the bookstore keeper locking up and making his way home, oh how he envied him. Satoru looked back making sure that the birthday cake he was making was in perfect shape, which it was of course. Once he finished, he locked up his bakery and got in his car commencing his drive home.

Satoru slipped on his jacket calling out after Megumi, Satoru had promised to go with him to this place he’s been wanting to go for the past week. Megumi never exactly told him where it was but that it was nearby. Satoru decided to humor the boy as it was the holiday’s and the holiday spirit was quite contagious.

“Okay, you two call me if the shop picks back up ok?” Satoru says while looking at Yuji and Nobara who nodd.

Megumi walks out, his scarf covering half his face Satoru, who insists he bundled up as the temperature was dropping. It’s quite the short walk until they are facing the bookstore, which looks a bit lively. Megumi opens the door, Satoru follows, taking in the space, looking around. The lights were slightly dimmed in some areas, decor was simplistic, nothing too flashy fitting for a bookstore.

“Hey! How can we help you today?” A girl comes up to them with a smile on her face accompanied by what seemed to be her friend.

Megumi began chatting with her about some book while Satoru just peacefully looked around. He decided since he was here he might as well just get something for himself, but he didn’t know what.

“Hey, be careful,” A familiar voice called out, a soft warning, Satoru looked over to see the man that was in his bakery earlier that week.

They both blushed slightly, neither expecting to see the other soon. Meanwhile on the other side of the bookstore three people were busy talking.

“I didn’t know he was a dad, you two look nothing alike?” The one with the ponytail asked, Nanako.

“Yeah, he took in my older half sister and I, she’s off in college right now though. Anyways, I’m glad you two came up with this idea. Do you think it’ll work?” Megumi asked and both girls contemplated.

“I think it will, from what you said, Suguru couldn’t stop staring,” Mimiko said and Megumi nodded.

“I should have brought Nobara with me, she was the one to catch on after all,” Megumi and the two girls nodded.

“Well, let’s go see how they’re doing,” Nanako said and they nodded.

Satoru caught himself staring for a bit, before blushing offering a smile.

“I apologize, I actually want to buy a book but I don’t know which one, do you have any suggestions?” Satoru asked while looking around taking in the rest of the shelves.

“Well, it depends, which kind of genre would you like, Satoru?” Suguru asked softly.

“You remember my name?” Satoru asked, blushing to which Suguru nodded.

“Yeah, I mean it says on your shop as well but, I rarely forget names. Comes as a bonus with owning the store,” Suguru said with a soft laugh after.

“Right, genre hm, I like science fiction? Like Ray Bradbury, got into him recently,” Satoru said and Suguru nodded.

“Oh, good choice, do you want to read more of his works?” Suguru asked to which Satoru nodded his head.

Suguru with a simple gesture motioned for Satoru to follow him, the two of them making small talk, not noticing they had a few eyes trained on them.

“They seem to be hitting it off well Nobara, yeah you were right, take a picture are you insane?” Megumi whispered, his voice as hushed as he could possibly make it.

After slight back and forth he gave into Nobara’s request quickly snapping a picture of the two walking. The two girls laughed slightly, while Megumi just shot them a glance.

“I’ll bring her with me next time, I think you three would get along well,” Megumi said and they nodded.

Soon the pair arrived at the section of shelves Suguru was looking for, he hummed quietly as his eyes roamed. Satoru watched in silence as his hand stopped pulling out a book, handing it to Satoru with a smile. Suguru’s hands felt warm as they brushed against Satoru cold ones, as it was nearly freezing outside. The book was titled the Martian Chronicles, and Satoru quickly flipped it over, scanning the brief summary in the back before looking back up with a smile.

“Well, thank you, I have to go find Megumi, I came in with him,” Satoru said and Suguru nodded slowly.

“When you go to check out, request Suguru and I will ring you up, give you a discount as well,” Suguru said and Satoru nodded, turning away quickly texting Megumi to meet him at the cash register.

Megumi replied with a brief okay and Satoru stood waiting patiently for Megumi to show up. Once he did they both went up to pay the girl they greeted them earlier was going to check them out.

“It’s okay Nana, I can check them out,” Suguru said from behind her with a soft smile.

Megumi put his two books on the counter accompanied by Satoru’s, who began to take out his wallet to pay. Suguru wrote down something on a piece of paper, slipping it in with Satoru’s change.

“Those are some more suggestions if you come back,” Suguru said blushing while rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

Satoru nodded before heading back over to the shop with Megumi, slipping his change into his pocket. Satoru flipped the note over and saw that Suguru had written down his number on the back with a simple call me when you’re done. Satoru’s face flushed, which Megumi noted but decided to stay silent about it, opting to tell Nobara and Yuji when he got them alone. The bakery seemed to be buzzing, people were sitting down and chatting about the holidays while Nobara and Yuji worked to dish out orders, accompanied by another presence, Tsumiki. Megumi’s eyes widened at seeing his sister home so early, but Satoru beat him to her. He went over hugging her tightly, ruffling her hair after with a smile.

“You’re home early, sorry we weren’t here to greet you, you should have said something,” Gojo said and she smiled softly.

“It was meant to be a surprise, it’s nice to see everyone again,” She said softly, her eyes glancing over to Megumi who was behind Gojo.

“It’s nice to see you Tsumiki,” Megumi said quietly with a nod before putting his books away.

Gojo sighed as Megumi was always like this when his sister came back, granted the two of them had a rocky relationship after she left for college. Tsumiki just smiled softly, while asking Satoru what he needed help with within the bakery. After a few more hours of the shop being busy they soon closed, Satoru making sure to drop off Nobara and Yuji this time, as he opted to come in early in the morning to set up. The drive was silent on their way home, tension between Tsumiki and Megumi a bit higher than anticipated. Satoru knew it would be like this for the first two days and then things would be fine after so he didn’t worry much. He quickly showered when he got home, and then sat down on his bed pulling out the book he got earlier. His phone rang, he looked at the contact name, it was Shoko calling him how odd.

“Hey, everything alright?” Satoru asked, obviously surprised.

“Yeah yeah, now… WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A CRUSH?” Shoko yelled in the phone as Satoru held it away from his ear.

Satoru was a bit confused as to what she was on about until he looked down at the paper slip he was holding in his hand, everything clicking.

“Shoko, who told you? And anyways it’s not a crush he’s just kind of handsome, you’re always pressing the gas with these things,” Satoru said with a soft sigh.

Pressed up against his door was Tsumiki and Megumi, who had Yuji and Nobara on the line listening in on Shoko and Gojo’s conversation.

“See I told you Goomi, it was a good idea to tell Shoko,” Yuji said with a triumphant smile.

“Alright alright, let’s all calm down so we don’t get busted,” Megumi said with a sigh.

Tsumiki had an all knowing smile on her face as she looked at the way they interacted, Satoru definitely would owe her money by the end of the holiday big time. She heard Satoru stop talking and grabbed Megumi, quickly pulling him into the kitchen. The two of them quickly began to talk, while Satoru walked into the kitchen making himself a cup of hot chocolate.

“Don’t stay up too late, tomorrow is Saturday and you know how crazy the shop gets, off to bed c’mon,” Gojo said and the two nodded while going off into their rooms.

“Do you think they’ll go on a date soon?” Nobara asked, a hopeful tone to her voice.

“They seem to be hitting it off well, so far so I think so yeah,” Yuji said and Megumi nodded.

“Have you two been on dates before?” Nobara asked while yawning after it was getting late.

“I’ve only been on one,” Yuji said with a sigh holding onto his pillow tighter.

“I’ve been on none, the three of us should go on one sometime,” Megumi suggested with a small blush.

“Yeah that’d be nice, well you heard Gojo, we better get to bed,” Nobara said.

With that the three of them hung, letting themselves fall asleep peacefully.

#gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #getou #geto #getou suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #au #fic #getou x gojo

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nightmare-niko · 3 years

Text

Chapter eight

Character moodboard: Lee Minjae

“Hey Haru! Are these boxes of albums and shit yours?” Aeri shouts from the living room, Haru and her roommate Jia gasp and look at eachother. Jia is the first to walk out of the room giving Haru the look of ‘you deal with that’.

“Jung Aeri you are the youngest one in this group and I be damned if you get caught cursing, you better not make it a habit.” Haru comes out into the living room, “Last thing I need is Jaehyuck up here scolding me about my maknaes potty mouth.” She laughs a bit, “..again” she adds and takes the box to her room.

“Oh whatever you have the goddamned biggest potty mouth out of all of us in this damn apartment!” Aeri follows Haru into her bedroom. Helping her put her things on shelves and around her half of the room.

“Yes but I know how to filter. Who even taught you how to curse like that?” Haru asked mindlessly pinning posters to the walls.

“Haru you did,” Beom walks into the room and sits down on one of the beds. “You’ve cursed like a sailor ever since we met,” she smiles at the memories. “Jia is bad with it too, all three of you are gonna slip up on live one day and go viral on Twitter with all of our fans.”

Aeri finishes placing the books and albums onto Harus shelves and leaves the room. “It's because they’re foreigners,” she adds before leaving.

Haru laughs, “we haven’t debuted yet, we have a few weeks to go.”

Haru finishes decorating and she lays down on her bed, pulling out her phone to send a text to Sanha. Nothing important, just a simple ‘wyd’ and an emoji. She knows he’s probably working and will see it in a bit, but it won’t hurt to text him.

[timeskip, day before debut]

“Guys I’m leaving for a bit! Don’t wait up!”

Haru calls into the apartment and leaves for her boyfriend's house, she doesn’t wanna tell the girls that because they will try to stop her but she wants to go talk to him before she debuts and has too much on her plate. If she was being honest with herself she was going to break up with him once and for all. She knew he didn’t have feelings for her anymore and with everyday that past she felt her love for him fall thinner and thinner.

Making her route to his house was normal, she knew how to get there without being seen. And he had given her a key, so a quick visit would be harmless.

Arriving at Jaehyuns place, she gently opens the door and starts taking off her shoes. she then notices Jaehyuns shoes thrown on the floor along with a pair of heals.

‘Heals?’ She thinks to herself and walks into the apartment more, that’s when she began to hear it, the sounds of giggling and shuffling. Going to the bedroom and peaking through the creaked door. To say she was shocked would be a lie, she knew he’d do something like this.

Quietly she takes out her phone and snaps a photo and leaves, out the door and into the street stopping by her favorite cd shop to look around, to get her mind off of it.

In the moment she was hurt, the man she dated since 2016 was in his room, with some chick looking at her in a way he never looked at Haru. But deep down, it was a weight lifted off of her. Because now she has a better reason to break up with him. She was going to end things once and for all.

Into the shop she goes and she hears a familiar tune on the Tv, her song. The shop was playing Nightmares debut trailer. Suddenly all thoughts of Jaehyun were behind her, people were watching the tv looking and listening.

She heard some young girls talking about the video, chatting about the visuals and the song. Smiling she walked over to the boy groups and grabbed one album of each of her members favorite bands and bought them all:

Gift to celebrate their soon to be debut.

#friends #mutuals #wattpad #kpop scenarios #writing #art #anime #marveluniverse #captainamerica #bucky fic #bucky barnes #loki layfeyson imagine #thor #ironman #spiderman

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Simpsons Review: Simpsons Comics #102 “Uncle Burn$” or Homercore Nudity!

Whelp out of all the commissions Kev has thrown me this one’s kind of a curveball. I mean it makes sense why cover it: It’s a pastiche of Donald Duck Comics done in the pages of the Simpsons long running comics. I cover duck stuff on here, and not only do I love the Simpsons but I tend to reference it for jokes a LOT. I just genuinely never thought of reviewing it till now, likely because earlier on in my new career of reviewing animated shows, I wasn’t really convinced I could do pure comedies. With my regular reviews of Darkwing Duck and as it comes out coverage of the Loud House (I still need to get around to Band Together), that’s no longer a real issue and I should consider doing the show in the future, especially since I have an unabashed love for the first 10 seasons and a few episodes beyond that.

As you can tell, I love the Simpsons. While I do genuinely wish it would end and have no real intrest in the current seasons, though if you’d like me to take a look i’d be willing to. The show in it’s prime was funny, witty and each episode was crammed with jokes. And refreshingly for an adult cartoon show of it’s time, the show genuinely wasn’t afraid to mix things up: Milhouse’s parents divorced and stayed that way for so long that them apparently getting back together decades later is itself a huge status quo shake up. Lisa went Vegetarian which stuck thanks to sir paul mcartney, and then went Buddhist, both of which have never wavered since and both fit her well. Skinner and Krabbable started dating. Barney went sober for a few seasons. Apu got married. These are minor changes but the show does have things happen occasionally and doesn’t just snap everything back and it adds genuine tension to plots knowing they might stay the status quo They usually don’t but the occasional change gives things stakes. I could go on for days, but I couldn’t go on for 8 weeks, point is the Simpsons are awesome, and deserve the praise they get early on I just wish they’d stop as by this point people really have stopped carring and it’s time to pass the torch and Let Bob’s burgers be the wholesome family comedy that runs forever.. and even then that one should stop at 10 seasons. Or if not at least let the kids age dammit. But that aside, while many of you simpsons fans looking at this probably have at least seen the comics, or a collection of them over the decades, many of you like me are wondering what the hell Bongo Comics is and how they managed to last so long. Bongo was founded by Simpsons Creator Matt Groening in 1993. Matt Groening had noticed that at the time there just weren’t any funny books on the shelves, funny books being comedy based comics primarily targeted for kids, with Archie and Disney being really the only ones left at the time. So he founded Bongo to rectify that, and given Fox naturally liked the sound of more merchandising dollars, the publisher was primarily used to produce simpsons comics, though looking at wikipedia there were one or two that weren’t including, of all things, a Coldplay comic tying into their album. Why did Coldplay publish a comic book at a primarily simpsons comic book company?

Though most series seem to be either short lived or one shots, there were a few exceptions: Naturally the company put out an annual Treehouse of Horror issue, there was a Bart Simpson ongoing focusing on him and the other kids of Springfield, I had a trade for that one once, and once Futurama premiered it too got a comic book that held through both cancelations. But standing above them all was Simpsons Comics, a 245 issue long runner that ran all the way up to the company’s closing, likely due to a combination of a lack of profits and the then upcoming Disney-Fox merger depriving them of the very heart and soul of the company.

Naturally being a Simpsons fan I have a connection to these comics having gotten the trades out of the library multiple times as well as the collection of Bartman’s solo series, which was my favorite and I might cover some day. In addition to the Free Comic Book Day issues i also picked up scattered issues over my life since, much like Archie, Simpsons comics were a mainstay of bookstores and super markets and the decline of both comic markets is likely why the Simpsons comics started to peter out in the first place. The quality and memorability of the stories varied but they were a fun thing to have around and it’s sad to see them go, as well as see Disney not even make a remote attempt to bring them back or at the very least republish the vast library they now have access to. Also finally if your wondering yes, there indeed was a Simpsons/Futurama crossover. And no I have not read it. So with that history, most of which I just learned some of which I already knew, in mind, it is very fitting the comic’s did a tribute to the Uncle Scrooge comics. Though it does feel very weird that I have yet to cover any Donald Duck or Scrooge comics.. yet i’ve already covered one of the Ducktales tie in comics and a Simpsons homage to it. I’m going to have to correct that but until then, join me under the cut as I dive into adventure with the Simpsons.

This issue was written by Ian Boothby and drawn by John Delaney, I feel mentiong the writers and artists should be important in comic reviews and I kick myself for not having done that or gone into them as much before. Boothby was apparently the Ian Flynn of these comics, writing more simpsons comics than any other writer according to wikipedia and winning an Eisner for his work on the comic if sadly not this issue. He was nominated for an outstanding Canadian Writer award for it though so that’s good. Point is the guy is a decorated vetran of this series and it shows in how good this issue is and I felt he deserved some recognition as most Comic Book Readers, myself included up till now, likely weren’t aware he even existed nor took over the comic in the 2000′s.

We open with Burns getting attacked by a mummy! Gotta say wasn’t expecting this as where we started out but the simpsons have started with wonkier premises to end up somewhere. I mean there was the time a bag boy strike ended up with them in Africa. Also i’d say Burns should call the police, being the kind of privileged white guy they actually care about protecting and all, but frankly the Springfield Cops don’t have the best track records with Mummies:

But no it’s just Smithers, who dove in heroically to save the company 15 dollars after Homer took a bet to see how many fire crackers he could jam in his computer’s disk drive. Lenny said 20 but he proved him wrong. And yes those are all actual jokes from the comic, this issue is very funny and feels very much like a Golden Age Simpsons episode. They also all gather to sign Smither’s cast.. which naturally is a legally binding contract. Burns takes his loyal minion to get some quality medical care only to find an arcade because he traded the Medical Bay in for one during an outbreak of Pac Man Fever... again I really can’t top that and there may be a good reason why I haven’t covered the Simpsons till now. But yeah as Buns gives Smithers a roll of Pennies, he wonders who to have replace Smither’s on their annual summer treasure hunt.. which would come out of nowhere but we genuinely don’t know what they do most summers. I assumed Burns just road Smithers like a horse to play cricket while Smithers enjoyed it way too much. But a stray comment from Homer getting a Krusty Doll from a crane machine about being king of the treasure hunters leads to this.

I mean it’s an easy joke but damn if it didn’t get a laugh out of me. So later at the old Simpsons place, because this comic is fantastic, Marge and Homer talk things over, but Homer insists Burns said he’d split the treasure, and Lisa wishes she could come along. And Marge says he should, especially for his own saftey.. and when Bart complains, says all the kids should go, she already packed their bags, she’s heading to Rancho Relaxo byyyyeeeeeee. Once again, this comic is amazing, and I would say this is out of character for Marge, but frankly that’s the whole point. Plus it really isn’t when she has to deal with 4 children on a regular basis, and her sisters, and a town gone mad.. yeah can’t blame her here.

The next day at Burns Office, Homer is wearing his navy outfit.. or rather Donald’s Navy outfit. But given I did a quick google and found him having at least 4 different outfits during his time in the Naval Reserves, it’s not a stretch to assume the Simpsons Version of the Navy gave these out too. Seriously Ian Boothby has put more thought into continuity than most writers on the show proper. Also Simpsons Tide, season 9 episode, still very memorable and hilarious and not due to childhood nostalgia. Just looking up this bit had me laughing hard.

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I now want to watch that episode sometime soon so thanks Kev. Anyway Homer seems to have misplaced his plants. Now I could spare you the image since I don’t do things panel by panel anymore and only use panels from a comic when relevant. Buttttt

This traumatizing of my audience brings me to a point about this issue and why it works. While there are tons of nods to the Donald Duck comics and what their homaging is very clear, the issue doesn’t REQUIRE you know them to enjoy it. Knowing them I obviously enjoy it more, but most of the jokes aren’t reliant on you knowing anything about the barks comics and even someone with a passing knowledge of the Original Ducktales can still get the reference if not why Donald is here. It helps this is less of a parody, with the exception of some jokes, and more of an homage, using stylistic elements of those comics while telling i’ts own story as a loving tribute to it’s predecessors. Speaking of one of those jokes poking fun at the source material, Burns is delighted Homer brought child labor, which kept me laughing for a good minute, and when the kids introduce themselves we get this bit.

Not only am I 100% sure every version of Donald or Della did this to make sure they could tell them apart, very much including the reboot with Donald, but it’s a genuine hilarious bit. Donald’s response as they head off is “there’s somehting hooey Dewey and screwy about this. “ Also I will criticize the fact Bart isn’t the one wearing a blue outfit. For those wondering why, after all Maggie wears blue shouldn’t she get it, who haven’t seen this a LOT of merchandise early on had Bart in a blue shirt, due to early Merch being rushed out pre-show and since he wore one in some earlier concept art, he got to wear blue. He also wore it late into the 90′s.

Sidebar: I just found this and while it isn’t a bad joke given his character it is questionable to have a fourth grade boy tell you to buy him. Just saying. But the reason I bring it up is partly because the show itself referenced it at one point.

As well as it’s sister show Futurama

And you remeber that Bart Simpson solo I mentioned? That one frequently, both in and out of story, had Blue Shirt bart show up for some variety.

Also why yes each issue does have it’s own fun “Superman’s Pal Jimmy Oleson” Esque subtitle. And I love it so. Point is Blue Bart is part of the series legacy and this very comic company, so it’s VERY weird to not have that here. That being said there were a few Green Shirt barts apparently as a printing error, so he could just as easily be 80 steps ahead of me. I just don’t know.

Back at the plot Burns and the Simpsons show up at Frink’s lab, Frink rather obviously filling in for Gyro, with his own version of little bulb named F.L.O. who gladly shakes Lisa’s hand.. and releases a Pterodactyl but hey you can’t win em all. It’s a nice nod, though one only fans of the source matieral will really get, but the pterodactyl bit right after helps distract from it. Frink slotts into the roll well, as Frink has no reall affiliation with anyone and is basically, much like Gyro, there for various characters to go too when the story or joke needs him. Frink has two gadgets for them: Some Scuba suits that can go to any depth and a grappling claw that accidently gets him gripped to the pterodactyl. Also homer accidently switches suits with maggie, so we get an adorable shot of her serenely sleeping in a diving helmet while her daddy chokes to death.

So the next day it’s out to the open seas where The Simpsons are doing all the work while Burns lounges.. which yeah this is a typical uncle scrooge adventure all right. While the man unlike Burns does work hard and do things for himself, he spent most voyages talking about the destination while putting all the hard work on Donald, in case you thought there was at least one universe where Donald isn’t miserable most of the time. Lisa wonders what he’s doing and we get this lovely bit.

I just.. can’t stop finding that hilarious or a nice way to get the Uncle Scrooge bit in there while still fitting the Simpsons, and it at least explains what happened to Herb, whose been mentioned all of once in the 30 seasons since he last showed up. I checked. And yes for those unaware, which is fair, or who just now remembered Homer does indeed have a brother, one his dad had out of an affair who showed up twice, once with Homer unintentionally, and largely due to Herb’s own foolishness, ruining his life, the other time with Maggie helping him get back on top and him and Homer reconciling. He’s also voiced by comedic legend and your friend and mine, Danny Devito, whose still making us all laugh to this day and is a wonderful person from all accounts. Rock on Danny, here’s the only way I can think to honor you.

But yeah it’s a good gag. Burns claims to be watching for a Giant Squid.. and turns out to be right. So it’s up to the simpsons to fight the giant squid, a sentence I genuinely didn’t expect.. I thought like the Griffins they’d just ignore it.

I miss that show.. oh i’m aware Family Guy is still running but much like the Simpsons the show it USED to be is long gone. Anyways Bart tells a worried homer octopus suck out the innards and drink it first quipping “It’s not like you haven’t been drunk in the morning before homer. Homer chokes bart only for the squid to choke him which is easily the second best “Homer getting choked after Choking bart” gag i’ve seen.. the best being this one I found on youtube.

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Though personally my faviorite part of that whole bit is Bart’s proud “THAT’S BECAUSE I SOAKED HIM IN SLIME!” Anyways Lisa figures out a way to beat the squid, painting the likeness of each of them on it’s tentacles and letting the thing devour itself. Lisa lampshades it making no sense PHysics wise but with that she reluctantly accepts calling Mr. Burns, Uncle Burns and we’re off to our next location. Next up is Mt. Donrosa, a very clear nod to Uncle Scrooge maestro Keno “Don” Rosa, an avid fan of Barks work who expanded on it and turned it into a solid continuity, most famously, and what got me into the ducks in the first place, with the epic “Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck” which I proudly own and.. well I did say watch this space didn’t I? Enough hinting at the future as the Simpsons scale the mountain with Homer carrying burns up on a rickshaw. Burns however looses his lucky #1 penny, SUBTLE, and cuts Bart down to get it. We then get the best line of the issue:

Bart thankfully survives and we find out the Penny, much like Scrooge’s Dime is how Burns started his fortune.. for this issue and nowhere else but that’s standard for the Simpsons. Specifically loading it into a gun and threatning to kill Jasper’s grandfather with it during the gold rush, a nice twist. At the top of the mountain they find the fabled key of Strobl, which comes from the Taliaferro tribe.. more refrenes this time though I didn’t know them and had to google. Tony Strobl was an artist on the Duck Comics at one ponit and Al Taliforino id forgotten about. He did the Donald Duck comic strip which I had heard of and weirdly hasn’t been collected yet despite Fantagraphics covering mickey, as well as reprinting barks and rosa’s respective works.

The key is suspended in the air by what Lisa suspects to be magnetics, and while Burns plan is naturally “Have Bart swim in it and see if he surivives”, Bart, still pissed from the penny and not wanting to die today, grabs the Penny and uses his slingshot to fire it at the Key. The bad luck from the penny casues an erruption, but Bart once again saves the day and has them surf down, with naturally tons more great jokes. The family enjoys some steamed Seafood, except Lisa whose eating Seaweed, while Homer enjoys a sting ray “It tastes as good as it stings, Ow, Ow.” ON to Goddfrodson Trench, an odd choice given Floyd Goddfrodson was barks equivalent for the Mickey Mouse Comics and not really a duck writer, but he still deserves the honor regardless. Under the Sea, no accusations just friendly crustaceans here.. our heroes are close to the treasure but loose the map to the Jailbird Boys, aka Snake and his cousins, who found out due to Lisa’s blog. She didn’t want to loose any more readers to Sheri and Teri’s Olson Twin’s Fan Page.. which.. it’s 2004.. weren’t they dead by this point? Nope still alive? Still are today in fact? Alrighty then. Also this bit, and some of the other references are a bit heavy handed, I will admit that, but the jokes are high quality enough otherwise that it just comes off as a bit of an adorable wink more than laziness.

Snake and co cut their air with Starfish used as throwing stars.

The gang tie their air suplies to avoid dying, and Maggie, in a clever bit, talks with the starfish, since they communicate via sucking, to attack the Jailbird Boys. Again..

I genuinely don’t know, but our heroes find the fabled vault of Barks Billion.. named after Bark Barks, that polar bear from the sonic games.. no of course it’s named after Disney Duck God Carl Barks, who created the Duck’s share of Donald and Scrooge’s supporting cast: Uncle Scrooge himself, Daisy Duck, a fact I just learned but given he created her first short “Mr Duck Steps Out, shouldn’t of surprised me, The Beagle Boys, Magica DeSpell, Goldie O Gilt, Flintheart Glomgold, Gyro Gearloose, Gladstone Gander, The Junior Woodchucks as a whole, Neighbor Jones, John D. Rockerduck, The Number One Dime, Gus Goose, April, May, June and Whitewater Duck. Just the sheer impact he’s had on the comics on all continents cannot be overstated. He is also the one who refined Huey Dewey and Louie from hellraising little shits to the good little boys they are today.. well okay they were, thankfully the reboot has created much better versions. Point is what a man, what a man what a mighty good man, he is truly missed. We get two great homer gags in the same page, one where somehow he’s put the giant key on a key ring and still can’t find it.. with Bart helpfully taking it from him, and then we get this, which I missed on my first read through.

Naturally Burns betrays them, using a Gold Magnet, kay, to suck up all the gold and naturally planning to leave the Simpsons for dead to no one’s surprise. But thanks to Bart teaching Maggie how to use the spittoons, Homer gets one stuck on his head.. and starts getting sucked up with the Simpsons using them to escape. Naturally Lisa’s first instinct is obvious.

But Burns weasels his way out by promising them free gold after their free lunch. Naturally the next day this turns out ot be a trick as their lunch came from frinks and thus, for now, their weightless.. but Karma gets Burns when he tries swimming in his new gold vault... only for the natural result of what happens when am an who never exercises and who doctors once described as having so many diseases packed into his body at once they tripped each other off and that a strong wind could kill him, trying to do with a similarly aged but still physically fit and well trained at swimming in money man does on a daily basis.

We then close on a quick gag of weightless homer getting caught on fire and we’re out.

Final Thoughts: This was a really excellent comic. It captured the tone of the Simpsons at their best and while stiff in a place here or there, it’s mostly just really funny, entertaining and a nice and warm tribute to Donald and Scrooge’s long comics history, not really mocking it but instead just homaging it, while still throughly feeling like the Simpsons. It honestly feels like the Treehouse of Horor Segement on the shining, a bit that parodies something, but for the most part the jokes still feel firmly rooted in the simpsons and their cast. This was a treat to review and i’m glad Kev comissoned it and I may take a look at more Simpsons in the future. If you guys like this review, you can follow me on patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet, or if there’s a specific simpsons or ducktales episode or a specific comic you want me to review, you can comission your own review for just five bucks. Just send me a direct message on here through Tumblr, or take a look at my ask box or submit. However you want to do it. I take payments through paypal and until next time: Happy Days are Here Again.

#scrooge mcduck #the simpsons #carl barks #simpsons comics #montgomery burns #homer simpson #bart simpson #lisa simpson #maggie simpson #don rosa #professor frink #bongo comics #waylond smithers #reviews #ducktales

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