#can you BELIEVE I tried to keep this short? i talk too much forgive me ajsdfjas
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bitter fuck
A/N: okay so this is my first work since not writing since last summer 😭 , probably gonna make a part 2 of when reader & jj get back to the château. requests are open! lmk if I forgot any tags and as always, comments are appreciated 🤗.
summary: you mess up and make it up to jj in the back of john b's van (in front of rafe's house ☠️)
word count: ~2k
tags: eventual smut with bsf!jj/implied fem!reader/ oral in the twinkie/mentions of/jj forcefully getting you into the van
you'd never admit it but you loved how overprotective your bestfriend, jj, was. Just nice to know he cared, sometimes too much for people to believe you two were really just friends.
and could you blame him? It's not like you really tried to keep out of trouble. he kept you in check and you tried to do the same for him.
tonight's argument between the two of you was about none other than rafe cameron, you knew better than to hang around him, especially after what he and barry had put jj through.
pacing back and forth though the château he tried to reason with you.
"i'm looking out for you, okay? would you stop being difficult for a second?" he sits down on the couch, placing his hat in his lap and his face in his palms.
"you don't know what he'd do just to piss me off, what he'd do to you. really think I'd just let you go off with someone like that?" jj half laughs.
"let me go?" you scoff, getting up from the couch.
"sorry! I guess I forgot that I'm not allowed to go anywhere without your permission, that's what you're saying right?" you blurted.
"i'm leaving, don't wait up for me." you snatch your purse and walk out the door, slamming it in your fit of short lived anger.
"fuck!" jj covers his face with a pillow, all he wants to do is keep you safe but you make it so hard for him but fine! If you want to be like that then so be it.
you took off on your bike, putting in your earphones to silence the thoughts of regret you were having.
It wasn't hard for jj to find you, he had your location after all. It just scared him that you couldn't hear the twinkie creeping up behind you when you were pulling up to the front of the cameron's house.
kicking your kickstand to finally come to a stop and calm yourself before you go inside, you start feeling tinges of regret, maybe you should just go back to the château and hope he forgives you...
it's already too late though because jj is right behind you, trying to be as silent as possible. he puts a hand over your mouth and an arm around your waist.
you already know who it is so you don't freak out, feeling oddly more relaxed than you did a second ago. putting your own hand over the one he had covering your mouth. looking up at him, you take in that crazed look he has, eyes dilated so much that you can barely see the blue in them, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with a blank expression
"don't scream…...okay? can you do that for me? hm?" he questions, waiting until you nod "yes" to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, placing a calloused hand on your ass for whatever reason, you wince at the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.
opening the door to the twinkie with one hand, he places you into back and puts a finger to your mouth, gesturing you to keep quiet.
he goes and gets your bike, hitching it to the bike rack on the back of the van.
finally, sliding the side door open and climbing into the back with you. "so." he says, crossing his arms.
"do you wanna talk now?" he sighs
you crawl on your knees to him and bury your head into his chest, or try to at least. He grabs you by your shoulders and sits you up "are you fuckin' serious, weren't you just trying to go to rafe's house, you ditch me and still try to act like nothing happened?"
he pushes away from you.
"i'm sorry, okay! i fucked up, i was just mad, i should've listened." you wait for him to look back at you but he doesn't. "jay, please, I'm sorry, okay?" you plead, starting to get desperate.
you scooch closer to him and put your hand on his back, trying to break through the distance between you two. "you're my best friend, I know you were just trying to look out for me, l'll listen next time. I promise.” putting your head on his shoulder, hoping he'll forgive you.
"you wanted to go be with rafe so bad, didn't you? go then, i don't care anymore." he laughs "let that dirty kook have you, that's what you want, isn't it? I can't protect you from yourself anymore."
he expects you to go back into the house, his brow raising as he realizes you're starting to cry. "now what? you're not gonna go?" grabbing you by the chin, he wipes your tears.
"speak, c'mon. you're a big girl, use your words." he says harshly, making your muffled cries grow louder. “don't get all shy on me now, where's that attitude you had in the house? can't have rafe seeing you like this, can we?" jj lets go of your chin and cups the side of your face instead, brushing his rough thumb over your soft, tear streaked face.
"don't...wanna go, jay, just wanna stay with you" You mutter, looking up at jj through your lashes, trying to suppress your shaky voice.
“all of a sudden…..don't wanna do what you came for anymore, hm? don't play dumb, I know you like the back of my hand" he says.
he's not mad, he's just disappointed, which is worse. your lip starts to quiver and you try to cover your face out of embarrassment.
"hey.." he calls "you're really not gonna go?" he questions. you wipe your face with the back of your hand and shake your head "no".
"good, that's what I fuckin' thought, c'mere" he motions for you to come to him, laying back on the cushions in the twinkie.
you crawl in between his legs and lay over his chest, a familiar warmth washes over you, you feel safest like this. " 'm sorry, jayj, won't do it again." you sniffle.
"trust me, you won't” jj smacks your ass and sits you right on his lap, the shit-eating grin you love so much finally returning. "still mad at you, y'know." he whispers in your ear
"i'll make it up to you, 'kay?" you start unbuckling his belt, his mouth hanging agape. "shit, forgot to ask, is this okay?" you stop dead in your tracks "mhm, ‘s okay" he answers, eyes starting to gloss over.
you go right back to work, tossing his belt aside and starting to unbutton his pants, looking right at him again "jay, please don't go quiet on me, say whatever you want, just wanna hear you..." you admit
"my bad, i, uh... just been imagining something like this forever. kinda in shock, y'know." he shrugs, trying to avoid eye contact. “take these off for me." you borderline demand.
"yes ma'am." he immediately slips his jeans off of him, fidgeting with his hands, impatiently waiting for you to touch him again.
"need you to look at me when i suck it, can you do that for me?" you ask, palming his erection "i’ll try...” he whines at your touch, starting to get needy.
you slip your hand under the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip as you finally free his aching cock, already leaking precum.
"you okay there? you're allowed to talk, y’know?" you let out a giggle, trying not to burst out laughing at how jj is looking at you right now, like this is all he's ever wanted.
“is it bad that I kinda want rafe to come out here and see you with my dick all in your mouth? cum all over your mouth, my cum." he laughs, eyes fluttering open again at you brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip.
jj winces at your touch, voice starting to catch in his throat “hey..” he meets your gaze as you finally take him in your mouth, causing his eyes to clench shut. “fuck...a little bit of a warning would've been nice." he mewls.
you look away, trying to keep him from seeing you struggle to deep throat his cock. he throws his head back in pleasure, nearly hitting it on his own motorcycle helmet he'd thrown back there forever ago.
"try to stay still, can you do that for me, jay?" he nods frantically, tossing the helmet into the drivers seat of the van. you pump him in your hands a few times "stop teasing me...fuckin' shit." he pants.
he was so beautiful like this, pupils widening at your every touch, his hair a mess, and his face flushed pretty shades of pinks and reds.
you start up again, feeling him hit the back of your throat, you feel a familiar wetness pooling in between your thighs so you try to hurry up in making him cum so you can get to the château and finish what you started.
almost feeling like you're dreaming, jj’s sweet moans bring you back you to earth. " 'm gonna cum...fuck." he gasps as you swirl your tongue around his throbbing head.
soon enough his hips start to buck into your mouth, spurting thick, hot ropes of his seed onto your tongue. his hands quick to root themselves deep into your hair to keep himself from shaking so hard.
you pull off of him, wiping your lips as fast as you can and opening the side door up again to try to get into the passenger's seat, ready to get home. JJ grips your wrist, pulling you back into the van and shuts the door "you're really just gonna get up and leave after that?" he sighs.
you inch towards him, finally curling up in his lap on the seats in the back, waiting for him to speak again. he runs his fingers over your back then raises your face to his eye level. "look at me." he says, wiping the spit from earlier off your chin and tucking some loose hair strands behind your ear. putting his hands on your shoulders, he stops and takes a good look at you.
"you're bigger than i thought you'd be, y'know..” you say, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable silence between the two of you. a wheeze escaping his biten lips. “wow, okay” he smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "so you've thought about it then? i don't know if i should be offended or not" jj teases, his singular dimple becoming visible with how big he's grinning.
"no, no, it's a good thing! I think..." you giggle, beginning to play with his already tousled hair, pursing your lips in amusement at how the situation had changed so quickly.
you snap out of your hazy state and noticed the strange look on his face, gaze flickering from your lips then back up to your eyes as he starts to lean in closer to you. "hi.” he whispers sweetly. "nono, jj, back up!" you laugh, playfully covering your face, feeling him pressing soft, quick kisses on your check and down your neck.
you two roll around in the back until jj has you pinned underneath him, one hand holding the both of your wrists above your head and the other one wiping the sweat off his forehead. "are you gonna behave?" he huffs.
"no." you tease, kneeing him in the chest. "can I kiss you, for real this time? he asks. “you literally came in my mouth not too long ago, no!" you stated. he lets go of your wrists and rubs the back of his neck, waiting a bit before he sighs. " i don't care, y’know, i’ll still kiss you..” almost staring into your soul at this point. you can tell he's serious.
"okay?" he questions, "alright..." you say, letting him take over. jj places his hands behind your neck and begins biting at your already swollen bottom lip, the both of you laughing as your foreheads bump together.
finally, he kisses you properly for the first time in all the years you two have known eachother and it just feels right, like everything will be okay.
“that was nice." you plant a kiss on his forehead, wanting to stay like this for just a little bit longer. “don't know why we waited so long. not that i'm complaining." he smirks.
this is what you both needed, what you two craved all this time. and it was finally yours.
#jj maybank#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank smut#jj maybank fic#obx#obx fic#obx fanfiction
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♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓: 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡
God Isn't Here
【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Bad Boy Hongjoong wanted to change for you. Be the better man you deserved, but what if you ended up changing more than him?
『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 3.70k
-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Slice of Life. Toxic family. Smut. ANGST. Sad Stuff.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: BadBoy!Hongjoong x Religious!GoodGirl!Reader
[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Heavy religious background. Mention of a cult like life. Lots of trauma. Pet names. Swearing. Corruption and slight manipulation. Thigh riding. Dry humping. Oral. Crying turned to sobbing. (I'm sorry this is a shit show). Fingering. Sight sir kink (I can't help myself). When I say this is messy....this is MESSY, FILTHY, DIRTY. Breast play. Clothing is literally being ripped apart. Slight ass play and mention of anal. Hickies. Mention of sex toys. There is way too much dirty talk cause Hongjoong has a filthy mouth. Use of the name slut. So much sobbing please forgive me I was in a mood. Cowgirl. Unprotected sex. Loss of virginity. Spanking.
Thank you, @historyinmybed , for requesting Hongjoong. Also, thank you to my anony for requesting the plot ♡♡♡
Note: I want to point out that this fic this is no way hating on any type of religion. I came from a very religious household, so I get the idea of internal hatred to yourself and 'god'. But please take this fic with a grain of salt. Believe what you want to believe and practise what you wish to practise. No one should tell you what you can or can not worship. That's your life. Not there's.
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Perfection. That was what your family described you as. Their perfect little daughter. Naturally pretty, above-average smarts and a people person. Well, that was what your parents dressed you as. They weren't half wrong to be fair. You wanted nothing more than to be the sweet daughter that your parents wanted. But once your heart fell for the mysterious man that stumbled in the back of your bookshop one day. Perfect was no longer the description to view you as.
Rough, mysterious, heartbreaking bad boy. He looked like he jumped straight out of a dark romance novel. He was everything you were not and when he laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted to know you, have you, hold you. To fuck the innocence out of you. But he proceeded with caution. Not wanting to scare you away. He was known as a player, someone that fucked around and partied most weekends…
Yet he changed.
Changed for you. He dotted on you. Followed you around like a loving puppy that found his favourite thing in the world. Which he had. You were his everything and the love of his life and he would do anything for you. And he made sure you knew that every chance he could. Bringing you flowers to your work or gifting you with a home-cooked meal even though he wasn’t the greatest cook. He wanted you to know that he loves you. Forever and always. And when you were cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment―the apartment your parents didn’t know you had―one night, Hongjoong couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. He tried not to do something you didn’t want but fucking his fist to the thought of you was no longer working. He needed the real deal. And tonight he tried his luck. His touches were slow, sensual. You almost didn’t notice them while you were so focused on the new show Fionna and Cake in front of you. But when his fingertips grazed the end of your sleep shorts, your head snapped to him seeing he was completely focused on you, not even paying attention to the TV.
You gulped looking at him with such wide innocent eyes. The tingle in your gut made you confused but it also intrigued you, wanting to know what it was but you were also scared it might be considered unholy. You see, you were fighting an inner battle. Yes, you had left your family's practice and ran away with Hongjoong after he convinced you of your family's toxic lifestyle. You wouldn’t ever consider your life being involved around a cult-like community but yet it was all you knew. And when you opened a bookshop in your hometown your parents made sure to monitor the shop like hawks but neither of them would have thought someone like Hongjoong would stumble into the doors of the sweet establishment. Without even realizing, that day you starting losing your faith in god, if you even had any. It was just a way of life to you and you didn’t know any better back then but now you explore the world day by day with your sweet lover boy and god definitely didn’t have anything to do with that.
“W-what are you doing?” As if you couldn’t sound any more cute than you did right this minute. His eyes darkened, sucking in a breath as he watched you squirm. Your doe eyes watched him intensely, your hand snaking down to grab his, holding him still. Did you really not know what teasing was? Then again you didn’t know most things until he came along. When he first kissed you, he still remembers the shocked expression you made and how you slapped his chest slightly saying ‘We aren’t supposed to do that.’ But now all you do is kiss him. Morning kisses, hello and goodbye kisses. If you walked into the room he would grab you for a smooch. He loved kissing you and even though you would not admit it, you craved them too.
“I’m just wanting to touch you, Darling.” His soft voice sent shivers down your spine. You gulped, not knowing what exactly he meant. You gave him a confused expression, and it finally clicked in his head that you didn’t know what was going on. “Can I touch you, baby?”
You smiled letting his hand slip into your own, tilting your head “But you are touching me Joongie.”
Oh fuck, you look so goddamn cute and it made him want to pin you to the couch and fuck you into next week. He wanted, needed to teach you this side of life you didn’t know about. Take it slow, Hongjoong repeated to himself, placing his hand free hand on top of yours. He closed the distance between your lips but just kept enough space to let you pick whether or not to actually kiss him. And when you gave him a simple smile before sealing your soft lips on his, he took it as a green light to push you further.
“I mean touch sensually...” He peaked your lips again. “Touch you where the ache it.” He kissed the corner of your mouth as both of his hands got free, letting his finger graze your top thigh before slowly slipping towards your inner thigh. Your eyes never left his, eyebrows knotting in anticipation. Your brain was screaming at you, saying what you were about to do was sinful and bad. But your body craved to see what he could do. Could he really help take that ache that pulses in your stomach? The idea of giving yourself to Hongjoong more than frightened you… it excited you.
“What are you gonna do to me?” You didn’t mean to sound so seductive but Hongjoong drank every word you spoke. And the way you said it would have any man eating out of your hand, yet you didn’t even notice. Merely thinking you were simply asking an innocent question.
“Oh, Darling.” He dipped his fingers further up your thigh helping you open your legs without a thought, too focused on what Hongjoong might say. And he thought, for maybe two point five seconds on what he might say. Does he ease in and take it slow like his brain has been repeating for the past month or does he just drop his filter and see how you react?
He chose to fuck around and find out….
“I want to put my fingers deep inside your pussy.” Your eyes widened at the lewd words that spilled off your lover's tongue. “I want to know what it feels like to fuck you, make love to you.” His fingertips graze your covered core and it makes you jump, whimpering out. You gripped his wrist trying to stop him but you didn’t move him away, too curious to see what he’d do. “Would you let me see what your cunt feels like angel?”
“Y-you can't make l-love to me yet. We aren't married.” That was what you took out of his whole confession, man has got his work cut out for him. He had to laugh a low deep grumble making you shiver. His fingers were still playing with your covered core, trying to pull at the buttons of your pants. “We haven't decided if we want kids yet.”
“Kids?” Okay, now he was the one confused, “Who said anything about kids, darling?”
“Y-you know…” damn now you feel stupid, of course, this was another thing your parents taught you wrong. You tried to learn things on your own, only just recently finding out what a male privates were called. You felt so small in this outside world and you tried your hardest not to let Hongjoong see just how closed off you were growing up but sometimes it slips out, just like now. And the only way to get out of this was to explain yourself. “You only mate to have bare children. No pleasure or love… it’s a ritual that a married couple preform to conceive kids.”
Hongjoong tried to not look shocked but then again he really wasn't. When he found out you were living in cult-like conditions he did everything in his power to get you out of that situation whether you liked him to or not. He couldn’t just leave such a sweet thing like you to be devoured by the jaws of a sick bastard who played a so-called god. “My sweet, sweet baby. There is so much more to love-making than bearing children. Do you want me to show you?”
He gave you one last slow kiss, holding your cheek with his free hand keeping you in place. You sigh in the kiss, feeling a kind of relief and safety. All he wanted to do was keep you comfortable and not do anything you were unsure of. But now you wanted to give back. Give back to his kindness and understanding. You wanted to know, to know what it felt like to be with someone completely. But your mind kept playing the idea that you were betraying your god. You were fighting an inner battle and you didn’t know what to do. “Y-You can s-show me Joongie.”
He shifted his weight, turning to look at you straight on. He placed both hands on either side of your face before asking again. “I need you to say yes baby. Do you want this? Are you sure?”
“Yes.” You might have said that a little too quickly for your liking but Joong. Oh, he’d been waiting for this moment and it couldn’t be any more perfect. Grabbing your hips he pulls you up onto his lap. Your face was flustered a bright red. Your hands instantly gripped onto his shoulders as his own snakes under your loose top, feeling your bare tummy. He kisses you on your lips, then a peck on your cheek, then jaw. Before moving down to your neck. His hot tongue licked a long strip against your skin making you shiver, digging your fingers into his shirt. He chuckled feeling your hips wiggle, trying to subconsciously relieve the ache. He held your hip with his right hand, helping you move slowly, letting you take control, for the moment. He wanted to ease you in, let you find your rhythm. “J-joongie I f-feel.”
“Feel what baby? What do you feel?” He pulled away to look at you, using his free hand to slowly move down your navel before landing just above your core. Your eyes stayed closed, rocking your hips slowly. Your clit was brushing against your jeans just right and it was sending your head into a spin. You didn’t know how to describe the feeling but it felt, good. Right, almost. And then he cupped your pussy making you jump.
“I feel hot… I think I-I’m sweating d-down….” You looked down, seeing his hand holding your core. He looked down to, knowing exactly what you were saying. Chuckling against he rubbed his two middle fingers along your covered slit.
“It’s not sweat Darling. It’s called cum. It comes out of you when you’re feeling good.” he continued to rub you making your mouth fall agape slightly. He leaned towards your ear kissing the top of your neck before whispering. “and it tastes delicious too. Can you give me a taste baby?”
You hesitantly nodded, “Yes, but is…” He looks at you in your wide eyes. “ W-what about g-gods way…”
“Fuck god. He doesn’t know a good thing if it was staring at him in the face.” His voice was laced with aggression. But his lips against your neck were soft, gentle. “Forget god, baby. It’s just you and me.”
You and me…. Something he has said to you since you met. Sneaking out he always said it was you and him against the world and the day you had packed your bag―with what little you had―and left while your parents were out you knew he’d be there for you. You still wonder if your parents even read the note you left them. But then again they most likely would have thrown it away, not caring for a sinner like you anymore. “I don’t know if I c-can…Hongjoong…”
He stopped. For a moment. Anger was surging through him. Your family fucked you up so much and all he wanted to was find each and every one of those preachers and kill them where they stood. He wanted to protect you, hold you. Love you. “Yes you can angel. You can do anything you want. You are so strong.”
And with that you kiss him, taking in a big breath in through your nose. He pulled away first making you chase his lips but as his body sinks onto the floor, you watch with curiosity. He sat on his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. His hands find the buttons on your jean shorts, helping you loosen them before ultimately slipping them off. Everything was happening so fast yet so slowly as well. your body was shaking, feeling exposed without your pants but as his gaze switched from yours to your core between your legs, you couldn’t help but whimper. “Hongjoong…”
“It’s okay baby I’m going to make you feel good. I promise.” He lent in pushing your panties to the sides and finally getting a good view of your soaked cunt. “Fuck, you are so pretty baby.” he wasted no time in licking a long strip along your folds making you make a high-pitched noise that was music to Hongjoong’s ears. He got to work, suckling, biting and tending to your core. You had thrown your head back against the couch, grabbing your lover's thick dark hair and spreading your legs wider for him without realizing. A strange feeling was brewing in your lower tummy and you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You were feeling all types of emotions, happiness, guilt, hatred, lust and everything in between. And then Hongjoong took his fingers against your core making you jump.
“Hongjoong, w-wait…” But your lover didn’t listen cause he knew you’d just start talking about god again. He needed you to listen to him and if words weren't going to work. Maybe a demonstration would. His mouth cages your clit while his finger begins to sink into you slowly and you felt electricity surge through you. Everything you did for your parents. The little girl that “raised right” was slowly slipping away and it was terrifying you. Tears started prickling down your face, feeling so good but so guilty at the same time. Why did your parents have to do what they did to you? Why couldn’t they have raised you normally? Were you could make your own mistakes. You hated them. You hated everything. Everything except Hongjoong. “G-god…”
You didn’t know what you wanted to say but you knew he wasn’t going to listen, in fact, he snapped instead making a chill pool inside you. “God isn’t her baby, now let me have my meal. Got that?”
“Yes sir…” You cried, feeling him put another finger inside you.
“Fuck say that again…” He groan against your clit.
“S-Sir…” You obeyed, feeling his fingers thrusted in a harsh pace making you scream out, tears pouring out of you more and more with your mouth spilling out saliva onto your chin.
“That’s right baby. This is my pussy yeah? I get to play with her―Fuck her whenever I want. Do you understand?” He chuckled, nibbling on your puffy nub.
“Y-yes sir. Please, have me whenever you’d like. I’ll be good. I promise. Fffuuck!!” You’ve never sworn before but it felt like a word needed for this occasion. A band in you snapped, feeling yourself clench around Joong’s fingers. He slowed down until he came to a stop, but not pulling his fingers out just yet. He had to see your face, the way your nose scrunched up when his thumb pressed firmly on your clit and fingers slowly slipping from inside you helping your ride out. Hearing you swear was single-handedly the sexiest thing you could do. He stood up quickly, grabbing your wrist so he could pull you up making you stand. But your legs didn’t want to work so he hand to hold you up.
“Don’t worry baby. You’re always good baby. My sweet girl.” he pecked your nose making you smile. He rubbed away some of your tears with his left thumb. You both stood there for a moment letting you catch your breath. But without you noticing he undid his belt and jean buttons, shaking his jeans off. You only then noticed when a hard object poked your tummy. Looking down you see his appendage under his boxers. You had to gulp worried as to how it might fit inside you. He licked his lips watching you inspect him, he had no shame, slipping his thumb under the band of his boxer before pulling it down, letting his cock spring free.
You gasped seeing his dick whack his navel. Its red angry tip leaking out some pre-cum and twitching just at the thought you’d touch it. You looked back at his eyes with wide doe eyes, almost silently asking what was going to happen next. He swung you both around so his back was facing the couch before taking a seat on it. He pulled you along letting you take a seat on his lap. The feeling of his hot cock against your pussy made you clench around nothing. Your nerves were shot and you were shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Ready?” He simply asked, snaking his hands under your top tugging on the fabric slightly. You nodded, answering with a small yes before he took the end of your shirt and ripped it down the middle. You gasped, moaning without thinking. Your chest was suddenly exposed to him, leaving you completely bare for him. He had a sadistic smirk painting his features, leaning down he licked your left nipple making you whimper out his name. Your hands found his shoulders, letting him attack your chest with harsh red and purple marks. His hands that layed on your hips moved behind you. One grabbed a hand full of your ass while the other one glided toward your asshole. He put pressure against your hole and it made you wiggle in his grasp. He lived for your reaction.
“Sensitive Doll? I wonder what I would feel like to fuck this tight little ass too? Hmm.” His dirty words made you feel filthy in the best way. His thumb slipped into your puckered hole for a moment sending a new feeling through your system. Anything he did was pushing your buttons correctly. It was like he knew your body better than you did. “You’re just a dirty girl, aren’t you? Wanting to be fucking in the ass? Bet I could fuck this pussy while I have a pretty dildo up your ass. Hmm. Would you like that? You want to be my little slut?”
“I-I’m not dirty…I..I..” You didn’t know what to say feeling conflicted in his words. But he couldn’t care, your body was reacting perfectly to his words and that’s all he needed.
“Don’t worry baby. I’ll fuck you nice and full. And then we can go shopping. I plan on showing you all the pleasure you’d been missing out on.” his laugh was lewd, almost cruel sounding and you couldn’t help but moan in response. He lifted you up slowly without you taking much notice, only focusing on his finger thrusting in your asshole softly. It was only when a sharp pain started forming in your front you snapped your eyes open looking down.
“F-fuck…Hongjoong!!” he helped you sink down slowly until you had him completely nestled inside your aching cunt. You were crying again. But it was different this time. The pain was only slight, you actually didn’t mind the pain. But it was the value of what you had just done. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you sobbed. Crying from all the frustration. All the anger you had against your parents. Against your community. You had now completely turned your back on the god you once worshipped. All your life learning certain things was for nothing.
“Shhhh. It’s okay.” he rubbed your back, feeling a tingle in his gut. God, you felt so good, your pussy was clenching him perfectly but he felt sorry for you. You had lived only one way and he came in and changed your life in a blink of an eye and it wouldn't had been easy one bit for you.
He had made a promise to himself that night. While his hips started to move and your body started to stutter with him. While his lips were on yours or sucking sharply on your neck. While his hands smacked your plump ass helping you ride his cock at a desperate pace. And when he bent you over the edge of the couch so he could fuck you from behind while you creamed all over his cock for the fourth time. He was going to love you, now and forever. He was going to teach you new things every day and always make sure you were the best version of yourself. And he was going to also fuck you in every room of this house…
That last part might of just been more for his sake but it’s the thought that counts.
- ♥︎
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez reaction#ateez reactions#ateez fanfic#ateez fluff#ateez scenario#ateez x female reader#ateez x reader#ateez x reader smut#ateez fic#atz hongjoong#atz reactions#atz smut#atz fluff#atz drabbles#atz hard hours#atz imagines#atz scenarios#atz x reader#atz fanfic#kinktober#kinktober 2023#hongjoong fluff#hongjoong smut#ateez hongjoong#kim hongjoong#ja3hwa
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AITA for not telling my partners I'm a system?
💚🐻
To preface this, I don't use Tumblr and I'm using my partner's account, so I would rather ask this anonymously. Forgive any non-tumblr-isms 😅.
This happened a while ago, but to be honest I can't let this go. I feel so horrible about it despite being reassured and I figured Tumblr, who has a lot of systems/people with DID/OSDD, would be able to give me an unbiased (as much as I can give an unbiased account, anyway) answer.
I, (24M), am a system with one headmate, P, (??). (Neither of us are sure how old he is, since it seems to change on the day). I don't want to get into exactly how I got him, but I believe the term for what we are is "traumagenic"? Sorry, again, I'm not really familiar with everything.
Anyway, I've had him since I was 8, and he's been... well, a real pain in the ass, to be frank. I understand now that he's a defender by nature and was trying to protect us, but when you get expelled from middle school for several physical attacks and almost get sent to juvie you start to resent the guy a bit. He's a bit like a sleeping bear, except if the sleeping bear had one eye open and killed you before you could hurt him.
Back when I got out of my abuser's house and went no contact at age 20, I moved in with my current partners, Bonfire (24M) and Greenhouse (25NB) (names changed for privacy, obviously.) At the time I didn't know them, but they were looking for another roommate and I desperately needed somewhere to live.
So I moved in with just the clothes on my back and my wallet (bad move, I know, but I didn't have anything anyway). I didn't care to interact with them all that much, not wanting P to get defensive and attack them for no reason, but they just kept pushing and eventually I relented and hung out with them some.
"Some" turned to "often," and then "often" turned into "sleeping-in-their-bed-and-sharing-our-clothes." At that point I was too far into it and embarrassed to admit I'd been hiding a whole other person from them in my mind. I wasn't sure if they'd even like me after, what with P's history of violence.
...so I never told them. I did my best to forget about anything that ever happened and tried to just enjoy the future I'd always wanted for myself. Bonfire and Greenhouse are lovely people and I was finally, maybe just a little happy. I'd never been a happy person and I was content to bask in it for as long as I was able.
This, of course, backfired immensely. P and I didn't have the best relationship at the time, with both of us wanting to do very extreme things to get away from the other. He wanted to kick me out and be by himself in my body, and I wanted to kill myself to be rid of him. We've since reconciled and made strides in accepting ourself for who we are- it hasn't been easy by any means, but that isn't the point.
I recognize now that he was afraid of being hurt again, not wanting to get out of that survival mindset in case Greenhouse and Bonfire turned out to be super-secret mega abusers taking advantage of our trust, but I also know what he did after was wrong.
He got physical with Bonfire, screaming at him and threatening to kill him if he got any closer. I don't have any memory of this happening, so some details may be incorrect, and I apologize for that. Bonfire, not knowing that P was not, in fact, me, (coupled with the fact that he's a fucking idiot (meant with affection)), he got closer and tried to talk me (him) down. P punched him in the face and broke his nose, after which he ran out of the house and left me to "wake up" a few miles away curled up under a tree.
P left me a note a few days later that said he didn't mean to break his (Bonfire's) nose, but that he was lucky he hadn't done worse. This, in P speak, is probably the most sincere apology I could get at the time.
To try and keep this as short as possible, I'll summarize what happened next. I told Bonfire and Greenhouse about P because at that point the cat was basically out of the bag. They said they'd wished I'd told them sooner, and that they were a little uncomfortable being in the same house as "the lean, mean, stabbing machine" (- Bonfire) but that they were willing to help me manage him if I promised to tell them everything I knew about how he worked.
I did, and it's been years since then, and now P and I are, as stated before, closer than ever. I recently asked my partners whether or not they were still upset with me for not telling them, and they just said that they weren't entitled to my medical history and trauma (which, yeah, but he did break Bonfire's nose) and that they didn't care because, "hey, we basically got a free dog out of it" (- Bonfire), and "we made a promise to love you, including all the less-than-savory parts." (- Greenhouse).
Sweet, yes, but I think I might be TA because, um, P LITERALLY BROKE BONFIRE'S NOSE AND THREATENED TO KILL HIM? AND IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN PREVENTED IF I HAD TOLD THEM?
TL;DR: I didn't tell my partners about my headmate that's prone to violence and he did violence on them and I feel bad.
AITA?
(P says hi, by the way, and he also wants me to tell you that he isn't like this anymore and much prefers soft blankets and eating fruit to breaking his family's noses.)
What are these acronyms?
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Strauss sat slightly curled in the passenger’s seat of the dirty pick up. He was very pointedly staring out the window, away from the driver, watching the reflective markers by the road fly past in a yellow blur like shooting stars. Sylvain was grinning, seemingly at nothing. She wasn’t apparently concerned with Strauss’ refusal to look at her. She was too busy. Too busy haphazardly steering with one hand while fucking with the radio with the other.
“Ugh, country music. I can’t stand this twangy shit. How about you? You got a preference?” She craned her head to look at his tee-shirt, which bore the band emblem of The Rolling Stones.
“Classic rock fan? We can do that. You at least have good taste, Lu.”
“Where are we going?” He asked without turning his head.
“Like I said, we’re gonna have a little fun. Seems like something you’re out of practice on.”
“I am concerned that your idea of fun will not mesh with mine.”
“Oh come off it. I do have other interests beyond tormenting mortals you know.” She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t still MAD at me, are you?”
“You tried to kill a friend of mine and in saving him I managed to shatter my femur and be confined to bed rest.” Strauss replied flatly. “I loathe bed rest.”
“Come on. That was weeks ago!” Sylvain protested in a mock whiny voice. “You were barely on bed rest for two weeks, if that, I’m sure. I know you didn’t take long to heal. A drop in the bucket, for someone as long lived as you. Practically a minor inconvenience.”
“It is less minor for Mr. Samuel, who nearly lost his life.”
“Look, I had no idea he was as gung ho about dying as he was, ok?” She huffed. “Fine. You win. I’m sorry I almost killed Mr. Samuel by using my advanced powers of psychic suggestion to convince him to commit suicide. That’s as much of an apology as you’re going to get. Now will you try and look at me when I’m talking?”
Strauss inhaled deeply, and did as she asked, finally forcing himself to look at her. She felt so much larger than him, even though the opposite was true. She was nearly too short to reach the pedals of the obnoxiously large truck. Her claw rested casually on the steering wheel, the other tapped along in time to the music on the car door out the open window.
He harbored a multitude of regrets. This was supposed to be an expedition in information gathering. Doing so would be nigh impossible if he couldn’t look at her, much less talk to her.
“Forgive me. I am being rude. It is just… very new and strange for me, to be in the presence of another immortal like this. I am used to it being a bit more combative. It is not as if our previous meetings have been enjoyable.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I enjoyed them just fine. But! Apology accepted, Lu. We may as well start fresh and make nice. We have more in common than not, I’m sure.”
“Beyond both of us being dead, you mean?”
“Both of us being captives- excuse me, FORMER captives of the Van Helsings? Both of us being occult researchers?”
“How about both of us being wanted murderers?”
“Speak for yourself, Lu. You’re the one with the record. I’ve been keeping my claws clean.”
“Is that because you’ve been good, or because you know how to avoid detection?”
“You’re so clever, Lu. Funny guy. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“Like me, do you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I heard quite the opposite. I was told you had a hit list of vampires to dispose of, and my name was on it.”
“Told you about that, did they? Color me impressed. They must like you, if they’re that honest with you. No hard feelings about it Lu. I can call you Lu, right? Anyway, believe it or not, I didn’t actually want to ‘dispose’ of you.”
“No?”
“Nope. You were my thesis project for graduation. Harmless little old German man. When they told me your number was up, I was actually sad about it. Sad to see you slip up, you know? That’s why I put you at the bottom of the hit list.”
“How touching.”
“As far as I could tell, the victim in the killing that got you your murder record had it coming. But then, you did go on to kill again after that, didn’t you?”
“In self defense, yes. A Mr. Elliot Lane. Was he a colleague of yours?”
“At one point, yeah. He was a moron. Always felt like he had to prove himself. Be better than everyone else. He was a trophy hunter. It’s funny, I always knew he’d die at work. I just didn’t think I’d ever be buddy-buddy with the monster that took him down.”
“Both of those statements are false. I am not a monster, and we are not buddies.”
“Aww, don’t hurt my feelings now Lu. After all the effort I’m putting in to give you a night on the town?”
“You still have not told me where we are going.”
“Well, I know enough about you to know you’re a biologist at heart. I also know enough about the Van Helsing Institute to know your mind is going to complete waste there. I said we’d have fun, and I meant it. Consider this a peace offering, yeah? You’ll like this place.”
“What is it?”
“We’re going to the zoo.”
“The zoo?” Strauss raised his eyebrows and turned to finally face her directly. “The zoological gardens where they keep wild animals?”
“That’s the one.”
“Why?”
“Two reasons. First, because I know you’ve never seen one and it’s pertinent to your interests. Second, because they have a petting zoo with goats, and I don’t want you to get peckish.”
She grinned evilly. Strauss grunted in reply. At least she wasn’t expecting him to join her in hunting humans just yet. “This facility is surely not open after midnight.”
“Doesn’t need to be. We can get in and out easy. Besides, it will be a nice quiet place to talk. That’s what you wanted, right? To talk? You still haven’t told me what about.”
“Yes. I am… building my courage to speak of it.” He swallowed hard. “It is a difficult topic to broach. I worry it may… trigger your temper.”
“Are you scared of me?”
He hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Strauss returned his gaze to the roads. He rested his head on the window. The cool of the glass was comforting, even though the heavy rumble of the truck was off putting. The road slowly became the city. He had been here often enough to recognize parts of it now. There was the path that led to the bar, and further down, the road to Mr. Samuel’s house.
He winced inwardly at the thought. With any luck, she’d forget about wanting to hurt Sam. If she tried again he may have to break his promise to Artemis not to fight with her. She seemed content to sing along to “Paint it Black” on the radio until it faded into an obnoxious car dealership commercial that played several decibels louder than the music.
Strauss frowned, and abruptly shut off the radio.
“Not feelin’ the tunes, Lu?”
“If I have to listen to one more moment of commercials I will lose my composure. Are we close? I wish to get out of the car.”
Or at least, he wished not to be trapped in a small moving object mere feet away from her while she subtly mocked him.
“It’s right up this way. We’ll have to park and walk. If we climb the fence in the back corner here, there won’t be any alarms.”
“You talk as if you’ve done this before.”
“Of course. Many times.”
She parked the truck and hopped out of it eagerly. Strauss meekly trailed after her. This was already taking far too long. He’d allowed her to call the shots and get him to a secondary location. He was just along for the ride at this point. He absentmindedly stuck his claws into his pockets and felt the smart watch still there.
He gripped it momentarily. That watch was a lifeline. So long as Artemis was on the other side of it, he wasn’t completely alone with Sylvain. Not that Artemis could help very quickly. He almost missed Frau Harker.
“Y’know Lu. Before I got into the vampire killing biz I wanted to be an exotic veterinarian? Graduated with a biology degree and everything.”
“You must like animals. I suppose we have that in common as well.”
“More than I like people.”
“How did you come to join the Institute?”
“Some of my exotic animal research led me to some interesting places. Namely, old records of vampirism in animals. One of my advisors had ties to the institute, so I wasn’t exactly discouraged from learning more from there.”
“And they convinced you that these unique new specimens you’d just discovered needed killing?”
He followed her in the dark down a tree lined path. He could smell hot compost and dung- no doubt the dumping grounds of the large animal waste. Sylvain was the one not looking at him, now. She scanned the fence line for an entry point.
“It’s something they teach you when you learn about wild animals, Lu. Large predators and humans have conflict. Large predators need careful management.”
She found her spot on the fence and made the climb. She looked not unlike a squirrel, or rodent, scaling the sheer face of tall wooden slats.
“If people are in conflict with large predators, and someone doesn’t remove the problem predators, then the people feel unsafe, and they retaliate. They retaliate hard. If a problem wolf isn’t shot, a ranger might poison the entire pack. If a problem vampire isn’t dealt with, then every vampire loses their veil of secrecy, and all of them are in danger.”
“So your venture into the murder of our kind was done out of some desire to save us?” He tilted his head. “It was for our own good?”
“I’m not saying it doesn’t sound stupid in hindsight. You want the answer? You got it.”
She disappeared over the fence. Strauss gripped the top of the fenceline and slowly pulled himself up. Chin ups were arduous, but he cleared the obstacle easily, and lowered slowly to the tall grass of the other side.
“Is that it?”
“Is what it?” She led the way down the gravel path of the staff areas.
“I suppose I was expecting a renowned slayer to have some deeply personal reasons for collecting such a body count. I thought perhaps some vampire had wronged you, planted a desire for revenge, I did not expect your interests in us to be so academic.”
“Not every bad person has the luxury of a good reason for being that way.”
Strauss followed her slowly. His head was on a swivel, taking in the grounds. He could feel many eyes tracking him, and many excited heartbeats in his ears, but none of them human. No doubt the animal denizens of the facility were not used to seeing visitors at this hour. He worried one might sound the alarm, somehow, like a guard dog. No such alarm came.
“I suppose our paths aren’t terribly different. I too took an interest in vampires from the perspective of the biologist. I was more interested in medicine than zoology, however.”
“Interesting, ain’t it? I ended up joining the hunters, and you ended up joining the wolves. Interesting choice on your part too, Lu.”
“I did not go by choice.” He replied flatly. “I thought perhaps, given your research into my life, you might know that.”
“You had more of a choice than I did.”
“You and I both walked willingly into the tiger’s den.”
“Wrong. I walked in to kill a tiger. You walked in because one promised you something and you believed it. Maybe you should think twice about questioning my background when you’re the one taking candy from strangers.”
Strauss shut up abruptly. Her anger was still dangerous, despite the attempts at familiarity.
“Forgive me. I did not intend to upset you.”
“Relax, Lu. You didn’t make me mad. When I’m mad, you’ll know.” She turned to face him with aggressive eye contact. He felt himself falter even further behind her. “Besides, all that’s water under the bridge now. We ended up on the same team.”
“Same team, are we?”
“Sure. Vampires should stick together. We’re a rare breed. We won’t get a lot of people who understand us. Doesn’t make sense to fight.”
“Why then, in our previous meetings, were you so keen to intimidate me?”
“Large predators have a hierarchy, Lu.” She lingered slowly by the fence line as a pack of captive wolves approached the chain link with hungry curiosity.
“I had to be the one calling the shots. I needed you to know in no uncertain terms who was in charge. I didn’t want it to even be a question. So, a little vulgar display of power here and there. I figured your curiosity would bring you out even if I was kind of a bitch.” She grinned.
“Why is it important for me to be brought out?”
“I already said I didn’t want to kill you.” She leaned over the guardrail to look at the gathering wolves more closely. “I still don’t. I didn’t really think that you deserved it. I also know that most vampire research subjects at the Van Helsing Institute are kept there in jars, not in dorms.”
She crossed her arms with a sigh. “You’re doomed there, you know. They want to pretend to be your friend but you’re just an exotic pet, and soon enough you’d be another skull in a cabinet. I wanted better for you. I wanted to… I don’t know. Release you back into the wild.”
“The fact that I can tell you that I am happy and well cared for notwithstanding?”
“A psychological cage is still a cage.”
The wolves dispersed along the fence line. The novelty of the visitors had worn off. Sylvain followed the pack with her eyes till they were hidden from sight.
"It's a bit late to try and just put you back, unfortunately. Whatever worked for you before back home is gone now. If you're going to survive now you're going to have to adapt. And I know you're bad at adapting."
She started down the path again. Strauss wandered after her. "What makes you think I'm bad at adapting?"
"If you were any good at it you'd have done it on your own. You lived in a hole underground slowly starving to death. Don't take this the wrong way Lu. Most large predators aren't very good at adapting. Especially adapting to a bigger predator. They don't know how to cope with it. I get the feeling that it was all downhill for you once bloodletting started becoming less common for illnesses. Am I right?"
"I admit, yes. The advancement of modern medicine was beneficial to humanity, but the loss of that treatment did leave me very hungry."
"Damn shame isn't it. But you know, Lu. Even if donations run dry, you can still keep a clear conscience if you just stick to those who have it coming." She flashed her awful shark toothed grin at him, almost more like an animal baring its teeth than a person making a smile.
"Is that what you do, Frau Pietra?"
"Accusatory tone much? Besides, I know you've done it." She hand-waved him away as she strode down a path labeled "Asia."
"Yes, I have. But if you remember, that one was practically forced on me. It wasn't my original idea."
"Sure, the dead child molester wasn't your idea." She shrugged. "But I know he wasn't the first time you cleaned up the streets a little in the name of a hot meal. Maybe it didn't make it to your file, but I have a hunch, Lu. You can tell me. I won't blab to Ursula over it."
"If you must know, I have lived through two world wars, and I admit that yes… perhaps I did take advantage of the fact that so many people simply disappear into the fog of war. A dead Nazi here or there was not terribly missed. Is this sort of thing what you do often? Do you hunt, Frau Pietra?"
"Shhh. Hey. Look." Sylvain stopped and pointed at a fence. There was a panel built into it made of glass, for the viewing pleasure of the public. Strauss approached the glass slowly.
On the other side of the fence stood an apex predator. It was long, longer in body than Strauss was tall, and it weighed more than three of him. Its fangs likewise envied his own. Strauss ran his fingers along the raised letters of the bronze plaque that gave the beast its name.
PANTHERA TIGRIS ALTAICA
The Amur tiger. Small yellowish dots of reflected light glinted in its eyes. It stood not but five feet beyond the glass, regarding its audience with cool indifference. Strauss made eye contact with the animal, and felt that for a moment he could actually hold that eye contact comfortably.
The tiger blinked slowly, and began to pad silently past the glass, treating the pair to the full spectacle of its size and striped coat.
"That is a tiger. A real one."
"Yeah. Pretty fella, isn't he? Hard to believe they get that big."
"I've never seen a real tiger before."
"That one's not a real tiger. Not all the way. It has the fangs and the claws, sure. But it's not a hunter. It won't ever kill a deer or defend a territory. It will only ever eat and sleep and mate as its handlers allow it to."
"The sign says it is an endangered species. Perhaps places like this keep it safe."
"Safe is different from whole."
Sylvain walked off down the path again. Strauss lingered a moment to watch the tiger. It looked like a real enough tiger.
"I am sure it is quite real enough to humble anyone who tries to tangle with it."
"That's true. That's one thing I like about this place, you know? I don't even think a vampire is a sure winner against a tiger. Puts me in perspective. There's always a bigger fish."
"That is a cat, not a fish."
"Shut up."
"How much longer do you wish to linger here?"
"So impatient. How about this. Let me go feed the ducks in the koi pond and then we'll leave. We can talk more there. Maybe I can give you some pointers."
"Pointers on what?"
"How to be a real tiger, Lu. I feel like that's what you're really curious about anyway. I'd be happy to give you a little lesson."
"Lesson?"
He asked, though the answer was obvious.
"Of course. Before the sun rises, I'm going to need a snack. You're going to help me get it."
"I'll do no such thing."
"I wasn't asking."
She produced a quarter from her pocket, and fed it to a coin slot machine that spit out a small handful of crumbling brown pellets.
"Here. Feed the ducks."
She forced the feed into his hands. It left an unpleasant residue. He helplessly tossed the feed to the waiting waterfowl and watched it sink and be devoured.
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Hello!
How are you doing?
Can I request a matchup for Haikyuu!, Tokyo Revengers and JJK, please? (Male characters)
I'm an introvert and I prefer staying in my room to draw and listen to music. My hobbies are mostly in the domain of arts and crafts! I'd like to do something related to arts in the future. I'm good at analyzing texts and I enjoy writing. I also like doing improvisation because it requires quick thinking. Other than that I love rhythm games! I also pick up languages pretty quick.
I'm tall but I like wearing heels! Sometimes I have anxiety problems but overall I am confident in my abilities and looks. Not in an arrogant type of way, more like ''not taking unwanted opinions'' about my style or the art I make. Because of that I also like to encourage people around me to follow their own way of life (as long as it doesn't harm anyone!). I dislike when somebody is bossy and dictates how somebody else should live their life, it really doesn't affect the outsider that comments. I believe that unique styles are what makes the world prettier.
I have a short temper but I prefer ''forgiving and forgetting'' solely because:
I am too tired to argue, it takes too much effort to talk
I would rather not allow myself to yell because I really dislike that
I am sensitive to loud sounds and I might get a panic attack mid argument and that would be VERY embarrassing for me. I'd think about it for years.
I'm absolutely bad with expressing my emotions so I show love through giving gifts or writing what I feel. I get shy mid-sentence when I try telling someone I care for them, even if they are my family.
I like to learn! Trying out new things or food is very cool to me and recently I got into drawing whatever I can't draw so I can improve, I like challenges. I tend to push myself to test my limits. I also eat a lot. Which is bad.
I love seeing sunrises/sunsets, snow, flowers in bloom and I adore when it rains! Walking during rain helps me relax. I also like shiny things and all animals!
I am so sorry that it turned out this long!
I hope you'll have a great day 😊🧡
A/n: Hello, thank you so much for being patient. I hope you enjoy and have a great day. And as always remember to hydrate or diedrate
Haikyuu: Kenma Kozume
Dating Kenma is relaxing
Date nights can be going out to eat or just relaxing together with music playing while you draw and he games
He loves that you encourage him to do what he wants and don’t pressure him to put down his video games
He may be on the short side but he doesn't care if you want to go around in high heels, he thinks you’re beautiful no matter what
Kenma also isn’t a big fan of fights or loud noises so if you guys do get in a disagreement it’s going to be a day or two of silent treatment and then cuddles
He will also try out rhythm games for you so you guys have another thing to do together
All around just a chill time with the beautiful gamer
Tokyo Revengers: Takashi Mitsuya
Takashi is supportive in what ever you want to do
Loves that you are confident and don’t focus on what others think of you
Enjoys having dates that are just the two of you being creative and enjoying each other’s presence
He definitely already plays rhythm games so if you want to do that with him, he’s more than happy to make it a date
Taka understands that even with your short temper you prefer to just move on, so in disagreements he tries to just talk it out and if it looks like talking isn’t working will suggest taking a step back
He doesn't like to leave things unresolved so if something he did upset you just let him know and he will work on it
Now if you get upset with a member of Toman, he will deal with them for you. Just tell him who and he will pull them away and have a chat, tries to keep it on the down low so it doesn’t cause a seen
He’s all about respect, so he will do whatever he can to make sure you feel respected and welcome
Jujutsu Kaisen: Yuji Itadori
While Yuji is very outgoing and loud I feel that you guys would balance each other out
You encourage him to take breaks and relax, while he works to bring you out of your comfort zone
He loves Improve because it lets him just be him, so make that a date, go have fun being silly
Yuji will always be down for walks in the rain
He will bring you random little things he sees that makes him think of you, basically he also has crow brain so lots of ‘oooo shiny s/o would love that’
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IMPORTANT (TW&INDEXES)
First things first:
Don't hesitate to ask me things, DM me or suggest drawings, I don't bite (usually).
DON'T repost my art without credits, reblogs are very appreciated. You can use it for personal purposes (icon, wallpaper in ur phone, printing it out and eating putting on your fridge ect.) (and if it's the icon/header/ect. kinda thing please credit me).
If you are here for art only, you may be interested in my art archive sideblog @sygneth-archives
About me (meet the artist):
2023 - 2024
WARNINGS
I am and will be posting content that is not suitable for children and sensitive people. My current and future posts for both fandom stuff and OC content may directly include or mention topics such as:
graphic violence, death
mild gore; body horror, blood
swearwords, slurs (censored), in-universe slurs for fandoms
anxiety, depression and other mental disorders and their consequences
suicidal thoughts, suicide
abusive relationships, toxic relationships, trauma
sexual jokes/talk, suggestive talk and posing, soft NSFW content (occasional frontal nudity but rather not in sexualised way)
use and abuse of alcohol, cigarettes and other substance
addiction, co-addiction, codependence and people not always dealing with them the right way
If you don't want to see this kind of content, please unfollow me or consider taking some measures that will help you filter out those posts. Stay safe.
Second things second:
BLOG INDEX
I'm a multifandom mess and I'm not in charge of whatever my brain decided that I am going to hyperobsess over. Fortunately my obssessions rather stack than die away so sooner or later I will probably come back to whatever era you've found me at.
My recurring topics are for sure Undertale/Deltarune, ACD Sherlock, Good Omens, Disco Elysium, and whetever else that I forgot to mention.
I am currently handling a few projects:
ACTIVE:
Echoes of Elysium (a Disco Elysium comic where Harry tries to stay sober and sort out his relationship with people, set directly after the events from game, with some retrospections) -
AO3 - ComicFury - INFO - Page 1
Sherlock Holmes and Victor Trevor College Adventures (a short comic series about friendship/QPR between the two of them, retelling/filling in the events from the story)
AO3 - Masterpost - Chapter 1 (finished) - Chapter 2 (finished) - Chapter 3 (in the making)
HIATUS (let me believe I'll come back to them):
Postcards from Revachol (a postcard series + my thoughts to it, where I paint over my photos of my hometown bc it reminds me of Revachol and here is why)
Postapo Disco Inferno (a stupid silly AU where I do not think too much. Revachol got bombed 20 years earlier and Harry, Kim & Jean have a dog Dolores) - here
Sonnaá (my OC universe that may turn into something with some chronology one day)
Aside from those I am sometimes drawing or writing unrelated things in mentioned fandoms or in other fandoms too.
General tags:
#my art , #my writing - the names say it all
#holmes collage adventures - a mini-series exploring Holmes' and Victor Trevor's friendship
#echoes of elysium - for the Echoes comic
#echoes talking - for the Echoes lore
#postapo disco inferno - for postapo silly content & Dolores the dog
#jeanalysis, #jeanposting - special tags for a special man
#conversations with the void - my shitpost tag
#[fandom] scribbles, #[fandom] talking, #[fandom] meta, #[fandom] analysis - pretty self explainatory, I assume (including them here to keep the order)
Tags for other things are generally corresponding but forgive me if I suck at keeping them in order (I probably do).
Third things third: If i come up with anything else, I will update this pinned post. Have a nice day!
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Here I Go Again
Summary: Guess who’s back from Egypt? Spoiler Alert: It’s Layla El-Faouly, and she’s pissed.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: none that I know of?? Vague mentions of food, relationship talk. Not totally proofread. This is the third part of Fire Within My Soul
Layla was going to be there in less than an hour.
About half of Steven’s wardrobe was strewn about the bedroom, ranging from his most formal suit to his favorite Hawaiian shirt. The boys simply could not decide how to dress for her. Marc insisted they wear something casual—nothing too forward in case she resented the idea of appearing to be on a date with them. After all, it wasn’t a date. It was an “I’m begging for your forgiveness, please tolerate me for this next hour” kind of dinner. There was no point at all in keeping up appearances, Marc thought. Steven vehemently disagreed.
“Don’t you think we should at least look like we care about being there?” He nervously picked at the top button of his shirt, contemplating whether he should leave it undone or not. “She needs to know that we care about her feelings. We can’t explain ourselves to her dressed like we just crawled out of bed. She’ll bloody leave us at the restaurant.”
“She’s gonna do that anyway,” Marc grumbled. Under his cynicism was enough nervous energy to power a tank, but he tried his best to suppress it. He couldn’t deny how much he cared about Layla—how much he longed for her approval and affection. Marc figured his chance with her was long gone, though, so he did everything in his power to replace the yearning with stoicism.
“Not if I can help it.” Steven, obviously, was holding out much more hope.
They had decided to have dinner at a local cafe. Meeting at their flat, or at Layla’s for that matter, would tug at too many unhappy memories. A neutral space would be their best chance at talking things over. Layla had agreed to listen to their explanation—of the secrets, the divorce, the lot of it—and take things from there. If she thought that there was a chance to mend things, she would say so. If not, she would throw the divorce papers in Marc’s face, walk out on the check (for dramatic effect, Marc had already agreed to pay for dinner), and block both of their numbers before disappearing to some country halfway around the world. It was a fair deal, they had all agreed.
And the boys were absolutely terrified to see her again.
“Steven, stop messing with your collar. You look fine.” Marc snatched the body irritably, beginning to pick up all of the shirts off the floor and bed and shoving them back in the wardrobe.
“Can you calm down?” Steven didn’t take kindly to being shoved backward like that. “You’re married to the woman, for God’s sake. You’re acting like… well, like I should be acting right now. She can’t be that hard to talk to.”
“You have no idea,” Marc countered.
He guessed that was fair, considering Steven’s only interactions with Layla spanned about a week in total, and she had believed he was Marc for half of them. It was nearing seven o’clock now, meaning they would be late if they didn’t start their walk to the cafe soon. Steven ran his hands through his hair one last time before closing the desk mirror. He grabbed his keys, sucked in a deep breath and huffed it out, and walked out the door of the flat.
It was only a short walk to the cafe from their apartment building—they wouldn’t even need to catch the bus. The sun had just fallen below the horizon, scattering dim light along the streets as the last remnants of day faded away. Most of the crowd on the sidewalk would be dying down now. Even if it wasn’t late at all, people didn’t like being out after dark. Marc turned the corner nearest the cafe, and was pleased to see that the building was almost empty of people. At least the constant chattering of other customers wouldn’t make the night even more difficult.
The hostess led him toward a table for two by the window.
“I don’t know how we’re supposed to explain all of this,” Marc admitted. He picked at his nails as he watched intently for any sign of Layla on the street outside. “I mean—I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’ll help you. It’ll be fine.” Steven attempted to hide the fact that he was just as anxious as Marc. To be fair, Steven had found that he was always a little bit anxious. “And Layla will ask about what she wants to know.”
He spotted the familiar head of curls rounding the corner. Marc’s tension turned to panic as he watched Layla approach the cafe’s entrance. His arms suddenly felt weak.
“I can’t do this.”
Steven took hold of the body just in time to greet Layla. She was wearing her biker vest and jeans, contrasting Steven’s attempt at business attire. He nearly knocked over his chair as he stood up, the back legs knocking obnoxiously to re-steady themselves. He gritted his teeth and smiled. “Thank you so much for coming, Layla. It’s so good to see you.”
She stared quietly at him as she took her seat. His smile faltered and he sat as well. The waiter came to take their orders, and then left them in awkward silence.
“Well?” Layla raised her eyebrow at Steven, who hadn’t gotten a word out. “Get on with it, then.”
“S-sorry?”
She didn’t seem in a patient mood. “You’re supposed to be explaining things to me. Isn’t that why we’re here? So I can learn just how much of your life Marc lied to me about? Let’s hear it.”
“Oh. Right. Well…” Steven chewed the inside of his cheek, avoiding her gaze. Layla may as well have been staring a hole right through him. He chuckled nervously. “I’m not quite sure where to begin.”
“I guess you wouldn’t be. It isn’t you that kept all of the secrets.”
Layla couldn’t be more clear in her hint that she wanted Marc to front, but he just wouldn’t come out, and Steven was not going to make him. In fact, Steven felt a bit defensive about Layla’s refusal to talk to him. He was just as much a part of this as either of them, wasn’t he? If not in the past, then at least from now on.
“Layla, listen to me,” Steven started. He felt the words threatening to bubble out of his mouth faster than he could think of them. “You have to understand that Marc’s been through a lot. And I do mean a lot. Much more than he’s told you, I’m sure, and honestly more than he’s even told me. He doesn’t go about life the way that normal people do.”
“That’s not an excuse for what he’s done to me.” Layla interjected, which startled him. She still looked guarded and impatient, but she couldn’t hide the way that her voice wavered around the jab.
He swallowed thickly, choosing his words more carefully. “I didn’t mean to say that it was. I just mean… he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He thought that what he was doing was the best for you. And he was wrong. You know that, and I know that, and he knows that. But in the moment, he didn’t understand. He thought that he was protecting you.”
Layla was quiet for a little while, long enough for their food to come. Neither of them was particularly hungry, though, so it just sat steaming in front of them. Steven decided to get another word in. He didn’t like the silence and, for some odd reason, he felt a visceral need to defend his alter. To make Layla understand.
“Things are different now, Layla. In fact, I would say nearly everything is different. Khonshu’s gone, right? Marc has no reason to push you away anymore. And I’m here now. Marc and I are… we’re building our life back. Together. And we don’t want to lose you.
I don’t want to lose you.”
The look that Layla gave him was something he’d never seen before in her. It was a look of pure shock. Whatever Layla had been expecting Steven to say, it surely wasn’t that. He didn’t exactly know what he’d said that set her off, but he knew that he’d gotten through to her.
“Yes. Things are different.” She looked up at his face, wide-eyed and charged. By the looks of it, Layla’s mind was running a mile a minute. Steven felt his chest tighten in response to her gaze. She stabbed her fork into her entree and brought it up to her mouth. “I’d like to talk with Marc now.”
“I—oh, well… I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Steven searched for Marc in their mind. He was close by, for sure, but he wasn’t budging. “I think he can hear you, but I’m not sure I can just make him take the body. He has to do it.”
“He can hear me?” She raised her brows and took another bite of food.
“I’m pretty sure that he can.”
Layla swallowed hard and her eyes were on fire. Steven recoiled in his chair as she leaned forward against the table. “If you won’t talk to me, then, at least you can listen. Because I have a lot to say to you, Marc Spector, and I’ve been waiting to say it since the moment you left. Do you have any idea what you did to me, Marc? I thought you were dead. I grieved over you. I panicked for weeks searching for you. And then, instead of an ‘I’m okay’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ you send me divorce papers? You don’t sign them, you don’t answer the phone, and you leave me like that for months, until Steven is the one to reach out to me?
“I don’t think you understand what you did. You could have just let me think you were dead. You could have let me grieve, let me move on. But those papers… I couldn’t let you go even if I tried. You told me to move forward, but you couldn’t even give me a proper goodbye? A good reason for leaving me? You couldn’t even sign the fucking papers?
“Marc, I don’t know what on Earth you could say to make any of that okay. There’s nothing I can think of that would justify what you did, not even your piss-poor excuse about Khonshu. I can’t think of a good reason to forgive you for that, and I certainly can’t imagine a way for us to move forward from there. So, your explanation better be good. It better be the most convincing speech you’ve ever given in your goddamn life. And I do mean your explanation. Yours. Not Steven’s.
You’re my husband. You owe me that.”
You are my husband. Not ‘were,’ are. That was the icing on the cake to draw Marc to the front. His throat started to burn the second that he did, and he blinked back tears while Steven struggled to balance on the edge of consciousness. Marc owed everything to Layla. Everything. He was her husband. She was his wife.
“You’re right.” Her eyes widened at the distinct American accent. Marc looked up at her through his brows, his whole body shaking for composure. “Nothing that I did was okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain all of this to you—I don’t know what will help you understand. I don’t even know if I understand some of it. But I do know that there’s no excuse for leaving like that. And God, I never should’ve sent those papers. I never should have done that.”
“Then why did you do it?” Her expression was gentle now, like she was truly curious about his answer. Layla tried to hang onto all of the anger she had walked in with, but so much of it faded the second her gaze fell on him. Much of it, not all of it. Marc scrambled for a response to her, appearing as though he was nearly choking on the words themselves.
He tried to form an eloquent answer—something poetic and justified that would be just what Layla wanted to hear. Nothing came to mind. Instead, only the raw truth of the matter echoed in his brain, and every other thought disappeared. He swallowed. Suddenly, he couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Because you’re better off without me.”
You can’t really believe that. Steven’s voice rang in his ears, utterly defeated. Marc didn’t have to respond—they both knew that he did, in fact, believe it.
“I’m so much more trouble than I’m worth, Layla. I tried to hide all of it from you, so I didn’t drag you through all of this with me. You don’t deserve any of it—I mean, you already had to deal with marrying an avatar. I couldn’t put anything else on you. And when I tried to fix it—when I tried to make Khonshu leave, I understood the danger I was putting you in. I couldn’t let him take you. I couldn’t be the reason he got to you.”
“So you left… to what? Make Khonshu too distracted to come for me? To do everything for him so he wouldn’t leave? Was your union with him more important than our marriage?”
She doesn’t understand. “No, Layla—”
“You know that he couldn’t just ‘take me,’ Marc. I can make decisions for myself. Did you really think that I would choose him? That I’d let him drag me around the world the way he did with you? Was that really what you were so afraid of? Hmm?” Her face turned sour.
“Or were you jealous that he wanted me more?”
Something snapped inside his head. It wasn’t anger—God no. He felt so many things for Layla, so many intense and wild things, but anger wasn’t one of them. Marc felt something desperate, pleading. He felt something scared, and his terror demanded to be heard by her.
“Of course he wanted you more! He’d be fucking insane to pick me over you. I don’t care about that! He doesn’t just ask people, Layla. He doesn’t give you a choice, not in the way that you think. He waits until you have nothing left. Nothing at all, not even life itself. He makes sure he’s the only source of hope that you have, and he threatens to leave you for dead if you say no to him. He wasn’t just going to ‘take you,’ honey. He was going to use you. Khonshu will use you up until everything is gone. Until there’s nothing left of you.
If I was gonna lose you anyway, I’d rather it be me that got used up. I left so that he would be satisfied, so that I could do whatever he needed, and so you could keep living your life.”
“But I couldn’t keep living it, Marc.” She was pleading. “Not without you. Not the way that you left me.”
He shook his head. “You were fine before I showed up. You would have found somebody else, someone better than me. You would have found someone deserving of you.”
Silent tears were streaming down her face now. Marc was crying, too, but he couldn’t really pinpoint when he’d started. Layla cleared her throat. “That’s not what I wanted.”
Her gaze fell to her lap. “You never asked me what I wanted.”
The food was getting cold now. They began to pick at their dishes, not bothering to look up at each other as they ate. Marc was sure now that he’d screwed up his chance to mend things. She was right—he didn’t have a good excuse for anything he had done to her. Layla had no reason to forgive him, and he couldn’t begin to ask or expect her to. He wouldn’t blame her if she got up and left right then. Marc knew that he deserved it.
Layla had almost finished her plate when she decided to speak up again. Her voice startled Marc, who had fully expected the cold silence to persist until they were done with the meal, and then for the rest of his life. But Layla’s voice was clear as day, loud and decisive. He didn’t dare look anywhere but right at her face as she spoke. He took in each word carefully.
“Do you think things would have been different if you were honest with me from the start? Not just about Steven, but about everything. I feel like our whole relationship was just built on some… image of you. Like none of it was real. I didn’t even marry Marc Spector, I just married the version of him that you wanted me to see. How am I supposed to know what was really you and what was some lie you made up to comfort me? How am I supposed to trust anything that you’ve ever said to me, or anything you say to me now? How can we start to repair our relationship when its whole foundation is just… fabricated?”
He didn’t say anything, instead only staring at her with wide, startled eyes. Marc wouldn’t dare beg for her forgiveness, he wouldn’t ask her to spend her time and energy trying to love him when he could barely even tolerate himself. But he couldn’t be okay with letting her go, either. He couldn’t imagine a world where he never saw her again. A world where he never held her again. So he said nothing.
“What about Steven? How would our marriage work now, with him around just as much as you? It’s like we would have to start from scratch. Like we would have to add a whole other person into our life, and that’s after rebuilding what we had to start. How do we even do that? I don’t know how to do this, Marc. I don’t know what the right answer is. Steven is right, everything is different now. If we’re gonna move forward, however we move forward, I need to know that you’re going to try harder this time. I need to know that it’s real. The good and the bad, that it’s all real. I need to know that you’re with me, Marc.”
Layla’s mouth turned down into a patronizing smile. “You still haven’t asked me what I want. I really think you should ask.”
Marc sucked in a breath. It had just occurred to him that he’d forgotten to breathe. “What do you want from me, Layla?”
“I want to spend my life with you, Marc. I want to shred those divorce papers into a thousand pieces, and set them on fire for good measure. I want this to work.”
“Really?” Marc’s voice cracked around the word and he realized he was crying again.
Layla grimaced and fell back in her seat. “When we found Ammit’s tomb, when Harrow’s men cornered us and—when I thought I had lost you… I don’t know how to explain it. Marc, you took a bullet for me. Two bullets. Of all the things that you’ve done, of all the time that we’ve spent together…
“I know that was real. That’s the only thing I know was real. And I can’t walk away from that.”
Marc was holding his breath again. Layla lifted her head.
“But it has to be different this time. We have to do better. If we’re going to start over, I have to know that you’ll try, Marc. You have to promise me.”
“Yes, anything.” It only occurred to him after the words had spilled from his mouth that he may be able to do what she’d ask. He would be damned if he didn’t try his best, though. He didn’t have anything stopping him now. “What do you need me to do?”
“For one, I need you to be honest with me. About everything. If I’m going to build my life with you, I want it to be built on the truth. It doesn’t have to be right now, but I want to know about all of those cryptic things you’ve been hiding from me. And I don’t want to hear everything from Steven, either. I want you to share yourself with me. Okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded feverishly. “Okay”
She went on, “and I want to start at the beginning. I don’t want us to act like an old married couple. I want to go back to dating. To courting. Especially now that Steven is here. We need to start over. We take everything slow, one step at a time.”
Marc bit the inside of his cheek. “I can do that.”
“And I also don’t want you to keep doing this alone. You’re obviously going through a lot, and I know that you have Steven, but…” Layla hesitated, sparking an unsettling feeling in Marc’s gut.
“What? What do you want?”
“I want you to see a doctor.”
That, Marc knew he couldn’t promise. He had a long history with psychiatrists, one that was complex at best. Though Marc’s choice of words would be terrifying, excruciating, and suffocating. Not to mention the recent visits with Dr. Harrow that still had him questioning his grip on reality.
“I can’t do that,” he practically whimpered. Layla began to roll her eyes. “You gotta ask for somethin’ else. Anything else. But not that.”
“Why?” Her question bordered on accusatory, but she flattened her tone to make the word more gentle.
Marc searched for a good answer. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Well, we can work something out. But you have to do something. I looked up your… condition. You know, to figure out why Steven is here, and what it means for you. And all I could gather from the internet is that you have a lot to work through. You need help, Marc. More than I can give you, and I’m sure more than Steven can give you, too.”
He nodded, stoic. “I will. Just—not a doctor. Not right now, at least. I just can’t.”
“Okay, baby.” Layla caught herself on the pet name, but tried not to linger on it. “We’ll find something else. Until then, maybe start with opening up to me? I mean, I’m not going to lock you in a padded room or anything. And spouses are supposed to talk about these kinds of things.”
“Yeah, okay.” Marc didn’t know how to open up. Not even a little. The only time he’d been able to do that was in death, and even then, it was only because the threat of the world ending pushed him to it.
But again, he would certainly try with everything he had.
“And we don’t have to start right now, Marc, but…” Layla straightened in her chair and glared at him decisively. He fought the urge to curl in on himself. “I just need to know this. You said that you had Steven ‘under control’ until recently, but you wouldn’t tell me what happened. Tell me now.”
“Layla…”
“If you really want to start over, then tell me the truth. The whole truth. What changed things?”
He swallowed hard. The fight or flight response beat against his chest as he attempted to make himself say the words. The urge to dissociate was almost impossible to resist, but he knew that this question wouldn’t be any less painful for Steven to answer. Marc took a long, deep breath. He recalled the moment that it started. If he was going to explain, he wasn’t going to miss a single detail. He prepared for the inevitable wave of tears that would start the moment he opened his mouth. But he had to start somewhere.
“Two months ago, my dad called me.”
~~~
@n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace
@ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss @loki-hargreeves @starfirette @celeste412 @avengersinitiative2012 @sifinskies @unspokenmoon @maplemind @mainstreambitchlife @hot-mess-express1 @toracainz @zarahbronstein @daughterofthequeen @am-3-thyst @romanarose @moonmoonboys @wand-erer5 @jake-g-lockley @alexismm
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#layla moon knight#layla el faouly#marclayla#moon boys#fire within my soul#Masterlist
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Team Players: Original Opening Scene
The original opening for Team Players was the very steamy scene below. I kind of didn’t like the idea of just jumping into the story like this, so I decided to change it. But, in another world, I suppose this opening could have worked if I edited some more.
Please, forgive any grammar/spelling errors. This is lightly edited and was never beta read. Also, fair warning, this is a detailed sex scene. So reader discretion advised.
Fucking the captain of the hockey team in a janitor’s closet wasn’t exactly part of the plan. But, I wasn’t trying to be a checklist kind of girl this year. Not after I realized people who satisfied boxes were hardly ever fun.
Samson Morgan wasn’t the dating type, which was why I found him to be the perfect person to hook up with. We were in the same night class on leadership -- something I’m sure his coach convinced him to enroll in because it’d been the same for me.
Leading wasn’t exactly at the forefront of our minds currently. We had a fifteen-minute break before Professor Walter began lecturing again on the seven principles of great leadership. I was more interested in the seven principles of how to get off in such a short window. Sam seemed to agree with how hard his dick felt against my thigh.
“Can you keep quiet?” he whispered against my mouth. “Or do you need help?”
I scoffed. “I've never had any problems keeping quiet on my own.”
He pulled back even more so I could see the amused look in his eyes. “It wasn’t a challenge.”
“Wasn’t it though? I’m sure you’d love for me to uncontrollably moan your name. Big ego boost and all that. But, it’ll take more than a quickie in a closet to convince me to make noise.”
“You don’t think I could make you beg for it?” he asked, voice low and husky.
“Not at all.” I smiled and then, pulled him back to me for a kiss. We were talking too much. I needed some kind of release soon. “I’ve never been the begging type.”
Samson and I had been playing this back-and-forth game since the beginning of the semester. It started in the gym, with him insisting that I’d stolen his weight-lifting bench.
You couldn’t "call" a bench. You could have preferences but first come, first serve. And I always got to the gym fifteen minutes before him. So he’d have to suck it up or wake up earlier to stake his claim.
“That could change.” Sam sounded like he wholeheartedly believed his words. “With the right person, anyone can turn into the begging type.”
I playfully rolled my eyes. “Sure.”
He moved his lips to my jaw and then, down my neck. When his fingers slipped underneath my shirt, I arched into him and nearly moaned before remembering myself. No way he was going to get the satisfaction that easily.
Sam's reputation on campus was told in two parts. One: a guy who slept with any girl he could. Two: he was one of the best hockey players on this side of the country.
Not only was he good at getting girls off but good a making them still love him afterward. I hadn’t heard a single bad thing about him from the women he slept with. Sure, they were most often disappointed and sad about his preference for one-night stands. But on a whole, no one directed venom his way. That was a difficult thing to do. Maintaining a reputation like that on a college campus was near impossible when you slept around.
When Sam started to move down my body, I leaned my head back against the wall. Something was poking me in my back -- a broom handle, I think. But I didn’t complain. There was nothing to complain about when he unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them off of me. My underwear was the next to go.
“You sure about this?” he asked between kisses on my thighs.
God, his voice was deeper now. I sighed at the tone, relaxing into his grip on my waist. How long had it been since someone sounded ready to worship me? Forever and a day.
“Yes, of course." As I spoke I tried my best not to sound too hoarse. Desire had a way of making my throat dry.
Sam hummed in approval, mouth hovering over my pussy. “That sounded really close to begging, Aderyn.”
I scoffed. “It was me giving permission. Now, focus. We don’t have long.”
Sam chuckled but did as he was told. He coaxed one of my legs over his shoulder. I felt the cold air of the building brush against my wetness. The freezing temperature didn’t last for long, disappearing when Sam covered me with his mouth.
He took my clit between his lips, kissing it carefully like he wanted to double-check I wanted him. I arched into his kisses, making him feel comfortable enough to trace careful circles around my clit.
I chewed on my bottom lip, swallowing whimper after whimper because we were still at odds somehow. Despite him eating me out, we still had something to prove to one another. Neither of us wanted to be the one who needed this more than the other.
Sam pressed me harder against the wall as he sped up his sucking. One hand gripped my thigh to keep it on his shoulder. He slipped two fingers into my pussy with his other hand to explore my clenching walls. The sound of my wetness made my throat ache. I placed my hands on his head, holding him steady as I began rocking my hips against his face.
This felt like some random fantasy only my unconscious brain could cook up. I was using Sam to get off. Using the guy I’d admired from afar to make me climax when we were supposed to be focused on taking notes and writing papers on how we planned to be great leaders one day. Yeah, this couldn't get more dreamlike.
As I ground against Sam’s tongue, his two fingers turned into three, and then… my eyes flew open when he got a fourth inside. He stretched me so easily that I thought I was losing my mind.
“If you keep grinding on my tongue like that,” he murmured when he pulled back for a second. “I'm going to want to taste your orgasm. It's only fair.”
Okay, I knew this wasn't his first rodeo but damn...
I released an unsteady breath at his words and rocked my hips faster. Usually, I didn’t try to make eye contact while having casual sex. It was too intimate. Too bold. So, I resisted the urge of seeing how he looked on his knees. I kept my eyes closed and focused on the feeling of his mouth on my pussy, his fingers fucking me deep, and his words begging me to come on him.
The climax snuck up on me. One minute, my eyes were heavy, purely relaxed. The next, Sam turned his fingers to press against the back of my clit as his tongue flattened, increasing pressure on the front.
“I’m coming,” I cried as my body began to convulse.
Sam moaned into my pussy, satisfied. He gripped my thigh tightly so I wouldn’t move away from his willing tongue. The fingers that were inside of me stayed that way so my pussy had something to clench around. I started to see stars at how full I felt. He refused to pull away, even after my climax subsided, which resulted in another wave. By the time he stopped sucking, I could barely stand up without help. So, he pinned me to the wall, kissing me up and down from my neck to my chest while I came down from my high.
His dick was still hard in his pants. I gripped it through the fabric. The moan he let out was muffled against my breast.
“We’re late,” he said when I tugged down his waistband to reveal the head of his dick. It glistened with pre-cum, so swollen I didn’t know how he hadn’t burst. My nipples hardened at the sight. I wanted to hear how he sounded when he came. Would he be quick and silent? Or slow and desperate? Maybe a mismatch of both?
“So show me how you jerk off when you’re running out of time,” I challenged. “I know you probably do it a lot.”
He chuckled under his breath at my teasing. “We’ll make a mess.”
I looked around quickly, trying to see if there was anything we could clean up with. My gaze was set on a roll of brown paper towels. I nudged my chin toward them and Sam smiled.
“Show me,” I told him again.
He captured my mouth with his and grabbed my hand to place it on his dick. I moaned against his lips as he moved my hand up and down his shaft. There was enough pre-cum to work as lube. Surprisingly, he started hardening even more. The dick grew in my hand. My pussy started to get wet again at the feel of him enjoying himself so much.
When he couldn’t take the stimulation of both my lips and hands, he pulled away from my mouth to bury his face in the crock of my neck. Something about the vulnerability of this position made me hesitate for a second. He’d given me full control. Guys rarely did that. Especially athletes like him.
Sam placed his hands on the wall behind me to keep himself upright. His face was still pressed to my neck as he whispered, “Please, don’t stop, don’t slow down. Please.”
I swallowed because he was begging. Begging in the sexiest position he could be in at the moment.
He moaned as I continued to fist him. Every now and then, he’d kiss and bite my skin like he longed to give me pleasure too but couldn’t focus on two things at once.
Nothing compares to seeing a large guy groan under your touch. Sam’s fingers curled into fists that he pressed into the wall as his dick began to spill more pre-cum.
“Damn it,” he murmured when I paid close attention to the head of his dick. His gaze was on my fingers. I gave him a show, using his pre-cum to make his shaft glisten. My free hand reached for his balls. He moaned when I squeezed them.
“I need you to finish me off.” He pressed his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed so we didn’t break the no-eye contact rule.
I should have closed my eyes just in case. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. I wanted to see this. I wanted to watch him when he climaxed. It felt worth the risk.
Once Sam came, he let out a deep moan. His cum dripped down my hand and wrist. My heart hammered at the sight of his trembling body. He didn’t care if his shoulders sagged and his hands relied on the wall for stability. In my experience, players rarely let go like this. But he did. He whispered my name under his breath like it was a prayer. Like he was begging for forgiveness.
I kissed him then. I shouldn’t have because his orgasm was over. We were done. Kissing like this post-sex was for people who wanted to do something like this again. But this was it for us. Nowadays, I had a one-time policy. So did he.
When I pulled away, our eyes locked. He was coming down from his climax and seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. Why had I kissed him? It was completely uncalled for.
I cleared my throat and started readjusting my clothes. “Glad we got that out of our system.
He nodded and reached for the paper towels to clean off before tugging his pants up. “Agreed.”
“Good?” I asked before opening the door. I meant the question in reference to if he had all his clothes adjusted properly but there was unnecessary weight to my words. So, he rightfully thought I was referring to sex.
“Great, actually.” He caught my gaze. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Can’t happen again but great.”
I frowned, my expression darkening because I knew that. Hell, I probably thought it before he did. At yet, he had to go a say it out loud like I was going to turn into some lovesick puppy who’d follow him around campus.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” I said, simply and started back into the hall without looking back.
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Thank you sm for the ask about Teru :D
And I just read your tags and you said you really liked Kou 👀👀 I am curious to know why if that's okay with you :D
Thank you for answering the Teru ask! :D
And absolutely! I'll take any excuses to talk about Kou!
I adore Kou because he is kind, but it’s a very interesting and genuine take on kindness. He isn’t an angel that does no wrong and forgives it all, he is just a 14 years old boy.
He always tries his best to help, and he usually has good intentions but he fails more than anyone. He is naive and reckless: He unconsciously sabotages himself a lot, which ironically hurt people more than helps.
His selflessness is inherently selfish, and he always accepts more than he can take: He promised to always stay on Yashiro’s side. He promised Teru to keep an eye on Hanako and make sure he doesn’t get out of line.
These promises contradict each other, he cannot fulfill the two, so even though his intentions clearly aren’t to hurt anyone he will have to hurt someone. But he is impulsive and he doesn’t seem to fully realize that, so he keeps making even more promises as he goes, promising to increase Yashiro’s lifespan, promise to help Mitsuba...
He betrayed Teru by taking Nene’s side and protecting Hanako despite their deal from the young exorcist arc, he hurt Teru badly, just like he would have hurt Nene, his entire family, and Mitsuba as well, if he truly had become a supernatural.
His goal to make everyone happy is impossible. Is childish.
He wants to be the one to help, but he also wants help. He genuinely does want help, he can recognize he needs guidance and he is desperate for answers, but he doesn’t have available parents, Teru is too biased and busy, No. 5 won’t help, Hanako has been questionable (or ‘a bad friend’ in Kou’s words), and so on. He is shit at asking for help and he also doesn't want Nene and Mitsuba to worry and add to their problems. He refuses to give up tho, so he gets lost inside his own head, he bottle ups deciding to solve it all by himself but clinging to any answer he gets, no matter how suspicious the source (Yes, I am talking about Natsuhiko here).
Kou under values himself a lot. Ironically is what makes him miss the mark and not do what his friends want despite being so good at reading other emotions/ needs (jumping off the rooftop for Mitsuba despite Mitsuba definitively not wanting his friend to die for example-)
It makes sense too, in a twisted way. He was trained to take care of everything by himself: He cleans, cook, babysit, does the laundry, all by himself. He is both 'not good enough' but also 'the last line', so if no one more competent is there to help, he must suck it up and do it himself.
His family is an anomaly that can see supernaturals, so of course he want to find a reason as to 'why' he has this supernatural senses, of course he thinks he is special. In many ways, he really is special!! Even if believing he can 'change the course of how the world work' is pure arrogance. But he is 14 years old, that's self-explanatory.
Despite these flaws, he is a genuinely sweet person that believe in the good of people and overall want to trust those around him. His love goes far deeper than just a trained instinct to take care of others. He had been put on that caretaker role in the first place cause it ‘fit him’, as fucked up as it was, considering he was a eight year old kid the Minamoto family makes me want to cry.
I love the big scenes of him protecting/ cheering up/ loving his friends but I also treasure the small moments of him helping that are short and 'insignificant' but are still constantly there.
I also adore how goofy and silly he is! Just look at him, he really used 'labor pains' as an excuse, I love him so much
And Kou may be naive but he is observant as hell. He knew just what to tell Yashiro to cheer her up in the Donuts chapter. He understood Mitsuba's real wish even when he was still having trouble distinguishing the two Mitsubas. He is the first to notice the supernatural tendency of giving up and settling for a ‘compromise’.
And while he is one of the most open characters he is also constantly changing. In a natural and coherent way.
He is an exorcist that deeply loves his family surrounded by supernatural friends, he has no idea what to do but he will still cling to what he feels is right. Even when he doesn't know what is right, even when it's clearly the hardest path.
He wants to be right about supernaturals being good. He want them to be evil, so he can still be proud of the Minamoto Clan, not feel odd in his own family. He wants Teru to see his ways. He wants Teru to keep being always right. He wants his school friends to be part of his life, he wants them far away from it all. He have so many wants but he tries to ignore them, only focusing on himself when is to focus on his flaws and mistakes, to try to learn from them.
And he is understanding enough to accept these are his wishes, but they aren’t reality. And Kou is constantly shown to hate all that’s fake.
He is a beautiful box of contradiction: He is extremely arrogant yet he lacks confidence. He is a resigned optimist. He is emotionally smart yet dumb when it comes to almost everything else. Extremely strong, fast, and capable compared to normal kids, but with an inferiority complex. He is self-aware yet dense as hell. He is moved by guilt just as much as he is moved by love. He has a savior complex but his ideals aren't unshakable, far from it.
ALSO VERY IMPORTANT: He is shaped like a friend! His smile is free joy to me!
#kou minamoto#tbhk#toilet bound hanako kun#i told myself 'i'll keep it short. No rambling!'#and it STILL so long#but yeah! here are some of the reasons why i love this boy#he is taller than me?? but he is still my son in my heart#kou my beloved#i want to hug him so bad#minamoto kou#k
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3
Chapter 23: July 2016
“Martin, sit the fuck back down. I think we can invoke the ‘you’re supposed to keep the bandages dry’ exception to the ‘you didn’t make the food so you have to help with the dishes’ rule,” Melanie said, a little exasperated.
Martin shrugged and didn’t even look in her direction. “I’m also supposed to change them out every twelve hours. Your argument is invalid.”
“One of these days I am going to convince you to sit down and take it easy after you do something stupid and reckless.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that, but you still haven’t invested in the horse tranquilizers. Hand me the dish soap, would you?”
Sasha came up and bumped her hip lightly against Martin’s, nudging him to the side. “Here, I didn’t help with breakfast either. I’ll wash, you wipe.”
Melanie grudgingly ceded her space at the sink and crossed back to the table to continue gathering the dishes. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Sasha after last night—she was altogether too curious for her own good, nosy would perhaps be a better word, and she struck Melanie as the sort who would risk anything, including the lives of those around her, to gain a little bit more knowledge. There’d been rumors that the previous Archivist was the same, and now that she knew Gerry had been traveling with her, she was even more inclined to believe them.
Actually, if she was being honest, the only person from the Archives she was sure about was Tim. He was solid, true-blue, courteous, respectful, protective, solicitous of his friends, generous to a fault, a damn good cook—and Gerry was right, Martin was definitely selling himself short if he thought Tim was out of his league. But the other two…jury was still out.
She wanted to like Sasha. She didn’t want to like Sims. The fact that he’d given her less reason to dislike him than Sasha had pissed her off for reasons she chose not to think about. It took a conscious effort not to glare at him when he wordlessly began collecting the dishes from the other side of the table without being asked.
Andy had never done that. They’d lived in the same house since they’d started getting Ghost Hunt UK off the ground, since they’d been able to afford someplace with more than one bedroom and wiring that wouldn’t short out the whole building every time Melanie tried to edit the video, and in all that time he’d never once cleared the table without her having to ask him. Arguments about common courtesy had almost always been met with I never asked you to make food, Mel, that’s on you or something similar. Pete and Toni, on the infrequent occasions they stayed the night or came over for a meal, had had similar attitudes, not that she would have asked them. But Tim had asked, Sasha had offered, and now Sims was just…helping.
It would have been annoying if she hadn’t guessed they were doing it because of Martin. There were a lot of things in this world she could forgive if it meant her brother’s life sucked at least a little less.
“We can wait and talk about…everything in a bit,” Gerry said, nudging his silverware towards Melanie. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind me waiting to give you my statement until later. Might be a bit much.”
Sims shook his head. “I don’t mind. There are…probably more important things that need discussing.”
“You’re not even a little bit curious as to how he came back from the dead?” Sasha asked. Something in the quirk of her lips suggested she was teasing, which was honestly a surprise to Melanie, who hadn’t expected Sims to be the kind of person you teased.
“He’s been in America,” Sims said, dry as the Sahara. “Between him and Damien Mitchell, I have to assume either incompetence on the part of the authorities or it’s something in the water.”
Melanie whirled around to face Sims, shock at what he’d said temporarily overriding the fact that he’d been the one to say it. “Damien Mitchell is alive?”
Sims froze, for just a second, then straightened and turned to face her. “I overheard someone mention it on the Tube the other day, so I looked it up—apparently he turned up in San Francisco a few weeks ago, alive and well.”
Melanie swore. “How’d I miss that? You think they’ll start touring again? It won’t be Sinner’s Gin without Gonzalez and Nichols, but they could get others, or even just do a two-man act, you think?”
“They could, but like you said, it wouldn’t be Sinner’s Gin, and I don’t think they’d perform under that name,” Sims replied. “They need a bassist and a drummer to really sound right, though. It’s not about the music, a lot of their discography would work with just an acoustic guitar, but Mitchell gets lost in the music without something to ground him.”
“Okay, but their first album—”
It had been too long since Melanie had been able to have a conversation like this. Martin and Gerry might have both listened to it with her, but while Martin could appreciate some of the technical aspects of it, he’d never really connected with the music like she had, whereas Gerry preferred heavy metal to the softer, more blues-y feel of Sinner’s Gin. (Martin had once commented that Gerry was too angry for it and he wasn’t angry enough, and she still wasn’t sure if he’d been joking or not.) This was the kind of talk she hadn’t had since the band’s heyday, and it didn’t stop with the band itself either. She was drawing breath to launch a new argument over two albums by a band she’d never met anyone in person who’d even heard of and which was better when the rattle of water against the window punctuated it and distracted her for a moment.
“When did it start raining?” she asked, surprised that she hadn’t noticed—and also a bit surprised that nobody was standing between her and the window over the sink.
“Somewhere between whether Rising Sun was justified in dropping their bassist after he went to rehab and you attempting to give Tim unanesthetized gender reassignment surgery,” Gerry said dryly.
“My fault,” Tim said, holding up a hand, before Melanie could register her horror. “I was in Scouts, I know better than to get within the blood circle when someone’s holding a knife. Even a butter knife.”
“Do either of you want some tea before we start talking?” Martin asked. His hands—which were wrapped to allow better movement than the EMTs had done the night before—curled around the body of his mug, which was held in front of his face; Melanie could have sworn he was hiding a smile.
“No, I think this is going to be a hot cocoa conversation. Jon, you want a cup?” Melanie turned towards the cupboard where she kept the mugs.
“Oh, ah—yes, that—that sounds good.”
Gerry mumbled something Melanie couldn’t hear, but when she looked in his direction, he was looking at the Archives group as a whole. “So where do we want to start?”
Sasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen, which she laid on the table in front of her. “I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, so…I started making a list.” She tossed Melanie an apologetic look. “This was on the nightstand in the room you set me up in, so…”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She’d put Sasha in Andy’s old room—they’d rented the house furnished—and he’d probably left behind a few little things he didn’t care about or hadn’t noticed. The notepad looked like the one he’d pilfered from the Holiday Inn Express in Glasgow. “What’s the list about?”
Sasha tapped the pen against the page. “You said last night the statements that couldn’t go on the laptop, the ones we have to record on tape, those are all to do with the Fourteen. So I started making a list of the statements and what they go with. Some I’m not sure about, but…I guess you know, so you can tell me if I’m right and fill in the blanks.”
“Most of them, yeah,” Martin said slowly. “One or two…I dunno, they could go a couple of different ways. But we can do our best.”
Melanie handed Jon a cup of cocoa and sat down; he gave her a nod of thanks before turning to Sasha, who skimmed her list. “All right. We’ve got…well, technically I think we’ve got thirty-seven different tapes, but only thirty-six different statements because of that one that got split into two parts. I think I got them in order that we recorded them, but…”
“Order’s not important.” Martin’s voice wavered uncertainly. “Maybe. I dunno. Might be some kind of pattern, but…”
Tim looked over Sasha’s shoulder. “First one was that one from Edinburgh, right? ‘Can I have a cigarette?’”
“Right, the anglerfish thing. I think that’s the Stranger. Pretending to be something it’s not, you know?” Sasha looked to Martin for confirmation, who nodded. “Second one, Joshua Gillespe and that weird singing coffin. That’s the Buried, that’s obvious. Third one was Amy Patel and the thing that wasn’t her friend Graham and the table up in Artifact Storage. That’s the Stranger, too. Obviously it’s the Stranger.” She paused. “Right?”
“The thing that isn’t Graham is the Stranger,” Martin said slowly. “I’m…not altogether sure the table is, though. It’s—there’s something about that one that’s nagged at me. The pattern on the table makes me think more of the Spiral, but…”
“You didn’t…” Sasha gestured at his face. Melanie felt a surge of irritation again.
“Christ, Sasha, no. I—honestly, I can’t risk even going into Artifact Storage if I can help it, but I sure as hell can’t Look while I’m in there.” Martin rubbed his forehead. “There’s too much in there. I’d knock myself out, at best. And it’s too much of a temptation.”
Jon tightened his grip on the mug briefly, then seemed to force himself to relax. “Moving on. The next one on the list—that was Ex Altiora, wasn’t it? I-I assume that was the Vast.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gerry said. Melanie scowled at the mention of the book.
Sasha tapped her pen thoughtfully against the table. “After that was the bin man, right? With all the weird—that’s one I’m not sure about. The teeth made me think the Flesh, but the doll’s heads makes me think the Stranger, and the burnt prayer could maybe be the Desolation.”
“I don’t think it’s the Desolation,” Martin said slowly. “I’m not completely certain about that one, but I think it’s the Flesh. Lancaster Road is pretty close to…there was a Flesh stronghold not far from there at around the same time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were related somehow. Can’t prove it, though. I’ll admit I was a bit tempted to take a Look at Mr. Woodward while I was doing the follow-up with him, but he seemed like he’d managed to get some distance from it, so I left him be. No sense in dragging him back if he’s managed to escape.”
Melanie pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything. Sasha continued. “After that was Timothy Hodges—well, we know that one, Jane Prentiss was involved, that was the Corruption. The one after that was that construction worker at Hill Top Road—”
“No, there was one more before that,” Jon interrupted. “I didn’t have you all do any research into it—there wasn’t any point, or at least I-I didn’t think there was—but it was that one from 1922 that was mixed in with the statements from the early aughts. A staff sergeant who served with Wilfred Owen during the first World War.”
“That’ll be the Slaughter, then,” Melanie said with a wink for Martin. “War’s always the Slaughter.”
Martin gave her a crooked smile. “I can take a look at it when we get back to the Archives…whenever that is…if Jane Prentiss didn’t destroy it. But yeah, probably.”
“No need. I believe you.” Jon turned back to Sasha. “The next one on your list…I remember there was an awful lot of fire involved. That was the Desolation, right?”
“That’s what I have written down.”
“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Martin said. “Might have been a couple other things involved there, but not with the statement itself.”
Sasha nodded. “Then we had Julia Montauk’s statement—that one was the Dark, obviously. After that was Trevor Herbert, the so-called vampire hunter…was that the Hunt?”
Melanie set her mug down a little harder than she meant to, making Jon flinch; she gave him an apologetic gesture, even as she spoke to Martin. “Not Trevor the Tramp?”
“One and the same. He was dying of lung cancer at the time, apparently.” Martin stared into the depths of his tea, worrying at his bottom lip. “Midway through he took a nap in the break room. Rosie told me he died there.”
“Wait, what? I thought you said you saw him,” Jon said, looking up at Martin in surprise.
Martin shook his head, still avoiding looking anyone in the eye. “No, I—I couldn’t risk it.”
Sasha set down her pen and cocked her head. “Couldn’t risk what?” she began, then stopped. “Being recognized. You thought he’d know you. You were—doing things outside the Institute, you were involved in the whole paranormal community—that’s how you know all these people when we need contacts for the really weird ones. You thought he’d expose you.”
Melanie was abruptly reminded that she hadn’t decided if she liked Sasha or not. She turned a glare on her that could have melted glass. “You don’t understand the Hunt. Most people who are bound up in it think they’re doing good—hunting monsters, saving the world, that sort of thing. But it usually turns into hunting down anyone who’s bound up in one of the other Fears, and then it just becomes about the Hunt itself. Depending on how far along on that path Trevor was, he might have been able to smell how tightly bound to the Eye Martin is—and seen him as something to take down. As prey.”
“And if he had,” Martin added, looking up finally, “it’s not like he would have just killed me where I stood. The Hunt’s about the chase, not the killing. I didn’t know he was dying, and even if I had known he was sick, the Fears tend to protect their favorites, so I wouldn’t have known for sure he’d actually drop dead of lung cancer mid-statement. If he started stalking me, he’d have found too many other people. That’s what I couldn’t risk, Sasha, putting anybody else in danger. I might be the monster, but that doesn’t mean a Hunter wouldn’t see someone I care about and assume they’re just as bad.”
“You’re not a monster,” Melanie and Jon said in unison.
A smile flickered over Martin’s face. “Not the point, but thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” Sasha offered, and at least she sounded sincere. “I didn’t—that wasn’t how I meant it. I just meant you’ve worked so hard to conceal…all of this from everybody.”
“Yeah, the more you know about this sort of thing, the more attention you attract.” Martin made a face. “Sorry.”
Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it was inevitable.”
Tim, who’d been quiet for a while, spoke up then. “The one after Trevor’s half-statement was that one we couldn’t track down, right? The completely made-up personal details from the guy who said he’d dreamed about Gertrude dying?”
“Yeah, ‘Antonio Blake,’” Sasha said. “If that’s not the End, I’ll eat my hat.”
“You don’t wear hats.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t own one. Anyway, then we had the second statement with our friend Gerard here in it.”
“Gerry,” Gerry said.
Sasha paused. “Sorry, what?”
Gerry shrugged, but Melanie saw the same desperate hope in his eyes she remembered from when she was a little girl as he said, “My friends call me Gerry. What was I involved in this time?”
“Desolation,” Martin answered. “That book you tried to get off that one bloke where you both wound up in hospital a couple nights before Christmas.”
Gerry touched the side of his face tentatively and sighed. “Yeah, I remember that one. Nasty business.”
“May I ask a question?” Jon asked hesitantly. “Martin mentioned that—the three of you used to burn Leitners together. Yet every statement I’ve seen involving you, you’ve done it on your own. Is there…a reason for that?”
“Time constraints, mostly,” Gerry answered. “Both the incidents you’ve mentioned, my mum was…uh, hanging about. And with Ex Altiora, she knew it was out there and that someone wanted to get rid of it. If I hadn’t burned it quick, I might not have been able to before she stopped me. With the other one, I didn’t want Martin or Melanie getting hurt, so I lied and told them it was a basic purchase run so they wouldn’t end up in the line of fire, literally. Then it all went tits up and I had to take care of more than just the book.”
“For the record, we knew he was lying,” Melanie said. “He was really, really bad at it.”
“Hey!” Gerry said, offended.
Melanie ignored him. “We wouldn’t have gone with anyway. We’d made plans to go visit Dad and Lily for Christmas. Or at least that was the excuse. Just wanted to get out of London for a bit, really. Anyway, what’s next on that list of yours?”
“Our first live statement,” Sasha said, looking down at the list. “Naomi Hearne.”
Gerry’s face fell. He looked up at Martin and Melanie. “Evan?”
“Five months after you,” Martin said quietly.
Gerry slumped. He looked suddenly a thousand years old. “Christ. None of us were ever getting out, were we? Doesn’t matter how fucking young we were, doesn’t matter if we wanted it or not, we were always going to have to stay or pay the price.”
Tim looked back and forth between the two of them. “Didn’t he die of a heart condition?”
“Yeah, sure.” Melanie snorted. “The Lukas family is really tightly bound to the Lonely. Evan was fighting it with everything he had—we didn’t all see as much of each other as we used to at the end there, but we’d all go out for drinks sometimes, and he was happy. When Naomi proposed, we tried to convince them to elope, up stakes and move, but neither of them wanted to give up their jobs. Two months later Evan was dead. Dunno if it was the Lonely or his family punishing him for trying to leave, but even with all the shit I was going through at the time, I thought it was suspicious that they said it was his heart that did him in.”
There was a moment of silence before Sasha returned to her list. “After that was that creep who kept losing body parts—that’s the Flesh, right?”
“Angela Grackle,” Jon murmured. He looked embarrassed when both Melanie and Tim shot him identical looks of surprise. “I—I heard the three of you talking last night. Martin mentioned that he, ah, wasn’t going to let anyone else investigate that in person.”
Martin exhaled slowly. “Yeah. We’d heard of her before—I recognized that one as soon as you brought up the name. It did legitimately take me a bit to find her, but the real reason it took so long was I had to take precautions. Attacks on the Archives by other entities aren’t uncommon, and I didn’t want to give her any wiggle room to use me as a vector for that attack.”
Jon shivered. Tim frowned slightly at Martin, but Sasha kept going. “Lost Johns’ Cave…is that the Dark or the Buried? I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s both. I think they were both trying to claim Laura Popham, but she was always more inclined to the Dark, so she sacrificed her sister to the Buried. At least, that was the impression I got, since I didn’t—I couldn’t help with that one.” Martin gave Jon an apologetic look. “We had a bad run-in with the Buried a few years back—long story—but I was lucky to get out alive, and I won’t be so lucky a second time, so I kind of have to keep well away from anything to do with it.”
“No, absolutely,” Jon said firmly. “I would think that would apply to all of us. We’ll need to be extra careful with anything any of us have encountered before.” He paused, and a flicker of something very like genuine fear came into his eyes for a moment before he turned back to Sasha. “The next one on your list…it’s Carlos Vittery’s statement, isn’t it?”
Sasha nodded. “That’s the Web, of course. Not particularly subtle, if you ask me.”
“No.” Jon exhaled heavily. “I never should have let you go back to investigate.”
“If you’ll remember, I didn’t exactly tell you I was going back,” Martin pointed out. “And…if I’m being honest, I would have gone back even if you’d explicitly told me not to bother. I, um, I kind of Looked at the building the first time I was there, mostly to make sure the Web wasn’t still hanging about. It wasn’t, but I saw the hints of the Corruption in the basement, which is why I really went back to take a second look.” He turned to Sasha. “I think the next few you investigated while I was, um, out, so—”
“It’s all right, Martin, you can say ‘held prisoner in my own home by six million worms in a trench coat while the rest of you went about your lives without a thought for me like the horrible excuses for friends you are,’” Tim said flatly. Both Jon and Martin flinched at that, but Tim was already looking over Sasha’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah, that one—next one should be easy enough, it involved a Leitner, and I remember you were actually the one who went to talk to the statement-giver, we’d been investigating it at about the same time as the Carlos Vittery statement. The Boneturner’s Tale, that’s the Flesh, right?’
“Oh, God, yeah. Christ, and I though Angela Grackle was nasty.” Martin pulled a face. “What came after that?”
“What did you write down here, Sash—does that say ‘meat flat’?”
“Meat flat?” Melanie and Martin said in unison.
Sasha swatted Tim’s shoulder. “Man who had a ground floor flat put up with a load of banging and a rancid smell every two weeks for a good two, three years, only to eventually find out the man upstairs was getting meat delivered and just…nailing it to every available surface. I assume that’s also the Flesh.”
“That…yes. It’s also one of the most bizarre things that I have ever heard of.” Gerry frowned. “And that’s saying a lot. Might have to see what I can come up with there…what else do you have?”
“The next one…well, two really, it was two parts to the same statement…” Sasha shook her head. “Honestly, Martin, I think you might have to actually look at this one, because I’m stumped.”
Martin spread out his hands, palms turned upwards. “Could you at least give me something to start with?”
“Father Edwin Burroughs,” Jon said slowly. “The priest Ivo Lensik mentioned coming to Hill Top Road. He was arrested in 2009 for, ah, apparently murdering two first-year university students and…eating their skin. Which sounds like the Flesh, but there’s so much more to it than that…”
Melanie sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself and shot a look at Martin, who looked flustered and slightly guilty. Gerry narrowed his eyes at both of them. “What? What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Martin said, not entirely convincingly.
As many times as Martin had thrown himself on the sword, or under the bus as the case may be, for her, Melanie felt like she owed it to him to do the same for him now. Besides, it was mostly her fault. “Look, in my defense, I was left unsupervised.”
“Melanie.” Gerry’s eyes narrowed further.
“No, it’s not—nothing like that. It’s just, you know, I’d just had to put Dad in a care home and Lily had gone in as well, and Martin was working double time to try and keep abreast of any issues we needed to deal with and handle things with you being in prison, and I was on break between terms, so I had all this energy and nowhere to put it,” Melanie said, the words tumbling out of her almost desperately. She’d always hated confessing her shortcomings to Gerry—it was different with Martin, he never judged, just found a way to help—but if it meant he didn’t get on Martin’s case about this, she’d do it. “As soon as I saw in the papers about what had happened, I knew it had to be something involving the Fourteen, so I started poking around the edges of it—”
“Melanie!”
“—and I honestly found more questions than answers,” Melanie continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I couldn’t pinpoint it either, and I sat with Martin a few nights and went over what I’d figured out, and there were just too many threads, so, well, I found out when he was going to be taken to the courthouse and convinced Martin to call out of work and dragged him to get a good spot to view and—”
“And you Looked,” Gerry completed. His lips pressed together in a flat line. “Fuck, Martin, what if he’d sensed what you were doing?”
“I wouldn’t have risked it if I’d thought he could do that,” Martin protested. “Not in public. Everything Melanie came up with—and if you’ve got his statement, you can tell me if I’m wrong about this—but it seemed like he didn’t choose to do any of it. So yeah, I took a Look.”
“And?” Gerry prompted.
Martin winced and dropped his gaze. “And I passed out.”
“What?” Tim, Gerry, and Jon all said at once.
“It’s not what it sounds like,” Martin said quickly. “It’s just—I’d not ever really seen someone with more than one Mark before and I wasn’t prepared for him to have seven or eight different ones. And they were all still fresh, so they were bright. It was like someone suddenly aimed a spotlight at a disco ball. Hit me hard and I lost consciousness for a minute or two.”
“Nobody noticed,” Melanie added. “Not really. One or two people standing closest to us did, but I told them we’d seen him around campus, and we were still young enough—well, I was a uni student—that people bought it. I did kind of have to give a fake interview to one of the reporters, but I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, just, uh, not originally mine.”
“Melanie.” Gerry pinched the bridge of his nose.
Tim grabbed the pen from Sasha, flipped to another page of the notebook, and scribbled something. “I have a question, but it can wait until we’ve finished this, I don’t want to get distracted…okay, next on the list, you’ve written ‘Enjoy Sky Blue’. Yeah, that was that woman whose son got eaten by the sky, right? Definitely the Vast.”
Jon nodded. “And I was recording that one when you—ah, came back to the Institute, Martin, so the next statement would have been yours. Obviously that was the Corruption. Then after that was the letter from Albrecht von Closen to Jonah Magnus…”
Gerry groaned dramatically, tipping his head back. Martin grinned. “Ah, yeah, I remember that one. That’s the Eye.”
“You’re sure?” Sasha asked, surprised. “I would’ve thought it was the End. I mean…the thing was dead.”
“It was watching him with no eyes. Definitely the Ceaseless Watcher. Besides, I can always tell those without effort.” Martin grimaced. “Call it kinship, I guess.”
“Oh.” Sasha took her list back from Tim and made a note. “After that was the clown puppet and the calliope…I guess that’s the Stranger? You said clowns tend to be.”
Melanie noticed Tim’s fists clench tightly, but didn’t call attention to it. Martin nodded slowly. “I know the Circus of the Other was, too.”
“After that was that weird church woman—that’s definitely the Dark—and then…Michael,” Sasha said, staring at the notebook. “I know Timothy Hodges was, well, Corrupted, but…who is Michael?”
“I don’t think Michael is a who,” Martin said. “From the description you gave, I’m pretty sure ‘Michael’ is just what the Distortion is calling itself these days.”
“Oh, is that all,” Tim huffed. “Just the Distortion.”
“I mean…th-that’s not what I mean, Tim. I mean Michael isn’t really its name, or its identity, any more than anything else would be. It’s lies incarnate, deception made manifest, the Twisting Deceit.” Martin’s voice shifted slightly as he spoke, and Melanie felt the prickle of static in the air. “There is no just about the Distortion. It is all-encompassing, all-embracing, it wraps itself around you until truth becomes lies and lies become confusion and you can no longer even recall the question, let alone find an answer to it. If it gives itself any other name, it is only to—” He broke off in a sudden, high-pitched yelp. The static died abruptly. Jon gave a choked gasp and dropped his mug, which miraculously didn’t spill or break.
Gerry withdrew his hand from the back of Martin’s exposed neck, scowling and looking worried at the same time. “Christ, Martin, when did you start doing that?”
Martin’s eyebrows drew together in a bewildered frown. Melanie’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she covered her mouth with her hand, even before he asked, “Start doing what?”
“Your voice went…weird there,” Tim said slowly. He looked as worried as Gerry did. “Like it maybe wasn’t you doing the talking.”
“I—oh, shit.” Martin went pale under the bandages. “That’s not supposed to—I-I don’t—”
“If it helps,” Jon said, not sounding altogether sure if he thought it did himself, “I’ve never heard you do that before.”
Melanie stood up decisively. “Okay. Anyone want refills? Because I think this is where we take a break, move into the living room, and light a couple candles before we keep going here.”
Nobody argued with her, not that she would have expected them to. Even the people who didn’t know much about this sort of thing realized that Martin needed all the protection he could get. The Ceaseless Watcher was trying to dig its hooks in tighter, and Melanie and Gerry would fight that with everything they had. They always would have.
She was starting to realize the Archives crew would, too. It made her feel better about Martin being trapped there. At least a little.
#ollie writes fanfic#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic#melanie king#martin blackwood#sasha james#jonathan sims#tim stoker#gerard keay#all aboard the exposition express! next stop: trauma town!
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The Real Article
THE OTHER PART OF my experience as a Christian that I tried to deal with in The Final Beast was the experience of prayer, and . . I drew directly from an event in my own life.
A year or so before writing the book, I took two or three days off to attend a series of seminars on prayer conducted by an Episcopal laywoman named Agnes Sanford, who was recommended to me by a friend as a fascinating and deeply spiritual woman who had had remarkable success as a faith healer. "Spiritual" was another of those words that I always choked on a little, and faith-healing was something I associated with charlatans and the lunatic fringe; but since my friend had only recently left the college chaplaincy to become a Jungian analyst, I couldn't dismiss him as easily taken in, so I decided to accept his recommendation and go.
I saw Agnes Sanford first in the dingy front hall of the building where the talks were to take place, and after no more than a few minutes' conversation with her, I felt as sure as you can ever be in such matters that if there was such a thing as the Real Article in her line of work, then that was what she was. She was rather short and on the plump side with a breezy matter-of-factness about her which was the last thing I would have expected. She had far more the air of a college dean or a successful businesswoman than of a Mary Baker Eddy or Madam Blavatsky. She seemed completely without pretensions, yet just as completely confident that she knew what she was talking about. She had an earthy sense of humor.
The most vivid image she presented was of Jesus standing in church services all over Christendom with his hands tied behind his back and unable to do any mighty works there because the ministers who led the services either didn't expect him to do them or didn't dare ask him to do them for fear that he wouldn't or couldn't and that their own faith and the faith of their congregations would be threatened as the result. I recognized immediately my kinship with those ministers. A great deal of public prayer seemed to me a matter of giving God something that he neither needed nor, as far as I could imagine, much wanted. In private I prayed a good deal but for the most part it was a very blurred, haphazard kind of business—much of it blubbering, as Dr. Muilenburg had said his was, speaking words out of my deepest needs, fears, longings, but never expecting much back by way of an answer, never believing very strongly that anyone was listening to me or even, at times, that there was anyone to listen at all.
That was the whole point, Agnes Sanford said. You had to expect. You had to believe. As in Jesus' parables of the Importunate Friend and the Unjust Judge, you had to keep at it. It took work. It took practice, was in that sense not unlike the Buddhist Eightfold Path. More than anything else, it took faith. It was faith that unbound the hands of Jesus so that through your prayers his power could flow and miracles could happen, healing could happen, because where faith was, healing always was too, she said, and there was no power on earth that could prevent it. Inside us all, she said, there was a voice of doubt and disbelief which sought to drown out our prayers even as we were praying them, but we were to pray down that voice for all we were worth because it was simply the product in us of old hurts, griefs, failures, of all that the world had done to try to destroy our faith. More even than our bodies, she said, it was these hurtful memories that needed healing.
For God, all time is one, and we were to invite Jesus into our past as into a house that has been locked up for years—to open windows and doors for us so that light and life could enter at last, to sweep out the debris of decades, to drive back the shadows.
The healing of memories was like the forgiveness of sins, she said. Prayer was like a game, a little ridiculous the way she described it, but we were to play it anyway—praying for the healing both of ourselves and others—because Jesus told us to and because most of the other games we played were more ridiculous still and not half so useful.
We were to believe in spite of not believing. That was what faith was all about, she told us. "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief," said the father of the sick son (Mark 9:24), and though it wasn't much, Jesus considered it enough. The boy was healed. Fairy-tale prayers, she called them. Why not? Jesus prayers. The language of the prayer didn't matter, and her own language couldn't have been plainer or her prayers more unliterary and down-to-earth. Only the faith mattered. All of this she spoke with nothing wild-eyed or dramatic about her, but clearly, wittily, less like a mystic than like the president of a rather impressive club. And you could also get too much praying, too much religion, she said, and when that happened, the thing to do was just to put it aside for a while as she did and do something else....
[Frederick Buechner]
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Hello! I'm so sorry I haven't responded in awhile, I came down with the flu lol. However, I am in awe that your favorite discography is No Limit(that's mine too🥰). I hope that you enjoyed your weekend with your family, I'll try to save my longer asks for week days as to not infringe on your deserved family time.
Im excited to start working on your gift, I already have a few ideas. Bare with me as I throw random questions at you haha
What is your favorite Hyungwon photoshoot? I'd love to know, or what about a favorite Hyungwon era lol? I personally am all about Gambler and No Limit.
You mentioned listening to Mercy so I HAVE to ask, do you have other favorite tracks written by him or the rest of the boys? Speaking of the rest of the guys, what's your favorite monsta x photoshoot if you have one? They can all be the same but for me personally they're different for some of these questions which is why I ask.
Anyway, I tried to keep this message rather short as to not consume too much of your time, Biff. However, during the days between responses, I wish you good heath and lovely days💚
xox mbb Secret Santa
The flu??? NO! I hope you are recovering well and that it wasn't too bad! But I did miss you, so I'm glad you're feeling well enough to send me another ask. <3
Hahaha, you were concerned about taking up too much of my time, but the joke's on you, babe: I can't do anything in a timely fashion when it comes to the Monstas. This reply has taken me an hour and a half legit because after collecting six years' worth of content, it's easy to get so lost in it. MBB are so spoiled. *sobs*
(Also, that's not a complaint. I had fun, but I promise that this is a lot more than you bargained for loooooooooooooool.)
Oh boy, gifties! Let's do this! ;)
Favorite Hyungwon photoshoot? In order to answer this, I had to endure the pain of going back through my comically large Hyungwon folder, and it was nothing but pain, but I endured for you, dear Santa. Since I am forced to choose, I will go with either the newest Dazed magazine shoot, which I imported a copy of, you better believe (heh heh), or his spread in Xiesta, which I just MIRACULOUSLY acquired a copy of after a full year of searching (mbb be going to their graves with that photobook in hand).
Evidence A:
Evidence B:
Don't let this confuse you though--my all time FAVORITE boy looks (and this goes for all the MX boys, though I'm in a mood now thanks to having to comb my folder, so I'm gonna double-down on the HW ham here) are:
1) [most fave] white tee/jeans (bonus points, ballcap)
2) GLASSES.
3) Hoodies
4) Candid boyfriend looks
5) One-of-a-kind features
(Hyungwon's lip freckle and his special ear make me scream incoherently into the abyss on the regular just like Wonho's bellybutton freckle or Minhyuk's slow blink or Kihyun's lip corner beauty mark do.)
Favorite era for Wonnie though??????? Okay, the ones you named are top-tier to be sure, but as far as I'm concerned his era for me is now. I've never seen him living so bravely or truly, and it is doing all kinds of funny things to my brain. He's grown into such a confident man that it has me, a very confident woman, quaking.
My other favorite Hyungwon tracks are "Nobody Else" and "Wildfire." Head empty. Only Hyungwon. Oof. As far as other songs: "Night View" destroys me; "Kiss or Death" remains my favorite MV and I absolutely HATE that that gem of a song was relegated to the Universe app and I never even got my gd choreo; "Love" in headphones is a masterpiece; "Champagne" is my fave Japanese track; and "Monsta Truck" is my fave OT7 song.
Favorite group shoots are: OT7 - Are You There? album shoots, specifically Versions II & III
(Is my bias showing??? haha)
OR
Fatal Love shoots, specifically this one where they are all millionaire CEOs:
And the Chillax Mode photobook (though the MX University is a close runner-up as well).
Sorry this was excessive. I spiral easily. ;) Forgive me?
Real talk: I love that we have so many things in common! You are the perfect Santa for me, beloved! <3 And as you can see, you remained anon! I have been TERRIFIED of doing that myself. I check and re-check and re-re-check before I send mine lol!
Have a wondrous day/night/twilight/whatever, my precious Santa!
#asks#new friend#secret santa#my santa has immaculate taste#i went overboard#i'm sorry they just make me do that
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Fray had been watching Ernastral, and she was not pleased with her progress.
"I'm beginning to question your commitment, Ernastral," Fray said, arms crossed and glaring up at her. "You haven't heard the voice since our last communion, which means you haven't taken my lessons to heart. You know I'm trying to help you, don't you? All of this is for your benefit. You listen, but you don't understand─"
Fray suddenly staggered, as she had towards the end of their last meeting. Erna reached out a hand to help, but Fray righted herself and pushed the offered hand away.
"Never mind." Fray looked her in the eye again. "You're the stubborn type. I know that. We'll just have to keep at it until you open your eyes. Moraby Drydocks. That's where we'll head next."
She found Fray standing on the docks, staring out towards the sea. Off to one side, she was faintly aware of a merchant talking to a Maelstrom sergeant. About what, she wasn't too interested.
"...Never much cared for the ocean, myself," Fray remarked. "That friend of mine─the one I told you about after our first communion. We came out here together, once. Long story short, we ended up doing something ridiculously foolish and were lucky to make it out alive. I tried to talk her out of it, but she just had to get on that damn boat..."
"Don't be like that, friend!" the merchant pleaded loudly. "Isn't the Maelstrom supposed to aid the smallfolk when they're in a spot of trouble?"
Ernastral finally glanced over to see what the trouble was. The Maelstrom sergeant, a Roegadyn woman, had her hands out, attempting to placate the distraught man.
"So far as it is possible, yes, but... such matters fall within the purview of the Yellowjackets, and─"
"And they told me to bugger off─can you believe that!? I'm begging you, Sergeant!"
"I..." The sergeant trailed off as Ernastral suddenly caught her eye. "Wait. Is that you, Lieutenant?"
Ernastral sighed, but walked over anyway. The sergeant lit up.
"It is! The legend herself! Forgive me, madam, I never thanked you properly for your service to Limsa Lominsa. When I first heard Leviathan had been summoned, I feared that─"
"Why, if it isn't that famous adventurer who's been killing primals left and right!" the merchant interrupted. "Truly, the Twelve must be watching over me, because you're just the woman I need!" He then burst into a fit of sobs that Erna wasn't entirely sure were genuine. "I...I am the victim of a terrible─nay, heinous crime! I was waylaid by Qiqirn bandits near the Salt Strand, who left me with naught more than the clothes on my back!"
"And why should I take time out of my day to see to your troubles? Shouldn't the Yellowjackets be handlin' a case like this?"
"How can you say such a thing, madam!? Without your help, I'm ruined!"
A sigh, a pinch of the nose bridge. "Ugh, fine, I'll help."
"Spoken like a true hero! So you know, the rank and file didn't seem so dangerous, but their leader was a mean-looking bastard... But considering the foes you've faced in the past, he couldn't possibly pose a threat to you!"
That's what I'm afraid of.
"Shut your trap and wait here. I'll be back."
Ernastral and Fray made their way over to the Salt Strand, where a bunch of Qiqirn gathered. She'd fought them before, when she was much weaker and less experienced. They'd been a challenge back then, but these days? They could hardly put up a fight. Funny how the things that once seemed so difficult were now barely worth a second glance to her.
"If this Qiqirn isn't everything he promised, I'll take it out of his hide..." Fray grumbled. "Let's make the most of this, Ernastral. No style, no guile, just chaos. Mark your limits, then push yourself beyond. Let the darkness guide you and set you free."
They were weak, especially compared to her, but there were a lot of them. She carved a bloody path of destruction through them, mowing down any Qiqirn bandit too brave or stupid to flee. Their leader proved a decent enough challenge, actually forcing her to push herself as she fought. But soon enough, he too lay dead at her feet.
Fray let out a breathy laugh as she struggled to catch her breath. "Tenacious bastards... Right, then. The goods."
Erna gathered up the box and stuck it in her pack, ready for delivery back to its proper owner.
"Good. There's nothing left here for... for..."
Ernastral paused, glancing over to Fray with a concerned frown. Fray staggered and fell to her knees, looking exhausted. Erna approached her, reaching out a hand, but she stopped her with a shake of the head.
"Finish it," Fray said. "Finish what we started."
Erna returned to the merchant, depositing the bloodstained box down in front of him. He blinked, looking a little taken aback as he studied it.
"That seems to be mine, but..." He opened the box and went through its contents, before letting out a groan of disappointment. "Llymlaen take me, I can't sell this! Everything's soaked through with Qiqirn blood! What did you do─carve one open and leave him to bleed all over my wares!?"
Look, the bastards were trying to protect their ill-gotten goods. Where the hell else do you think the blood was going to end up?
"I'm ruined... utterly ruined." The merchant fixed Erna with his most displeased glare, the sort that he no doubt used on any hapless merchant who happened to stick him with a price tag he disagreed with. "Madam, I demand recompense for your reckless destruction of my property! I am a reasonable man, so I will acknowledge that you are not wholly responsible. Fifty percent of the value should suffice."
Something inside her snapped.
"Fifty percent? FIFTY PERCENT?! You begged me to go fetch yer sorry goods from fuckin' BANDITS because the authorities couldn't be bothered to do it themselves, and then you have the audacity to yell at me for getting blood on it?! What did you fuckin' think was gonna happen when you asked me to go carve up some godsdamn bandits on your behalf?! You're fuckin' lucky it weren't your own blood that was on it in the first place! The next time you go beggin' random adventurers for help with somethin', don't turn around and complain because oh no, it turns out gettin' your stolen shit back from bandits might involve killin' 'em and gettin' blood every-fuckin'-where!"
The sergeant and the merchant stared at her, the former with her mouth agape and the latter looking like he was about to faint from terror.
"P-Pray forgive me my insolence, madam!"
"Lieutenant Klyng, madam, I... You have every right to be upset, but..." The sergeant glanced towards the terrified merchant. "...I think he understands, madam."
Erna's blood ran cold. That... that wasn't me! That wasn't me! It was Fray, all of it was Fray! It's always been Fray!
...Right?
Erna muttered an apology before turning on her heel and running off after Fray, who she'd spotted dashing towards the other end of the docks. The salty sea breeze vaguely helped settle the uneasy pit forming in her stomach. The same pit that had formed when she saw the destruction she'd wrought at the Naadam, when Lord Hien described her as "terrifying." She still remembered the look of mistrust and disgust on Zhai'a's face upon noticing she was a black mage. How long it took for him to trust that she wasn't just some witch hellbent on destroying everything, that she actually was in control of the dark powers she commanded.
But is she really in control? The destruction she wrought at the Naadam, the scorched earth and unmelting ice, begged to differ.
Maybe Zhai'a was right about her.
"We can't keep doing this, Ernastral," Fray said. "You must see what it's doing to us... What they're doing to us..."
Ernastral hugged her arms against her chest, suddenly acutely aware of the cool sea breeze blowing across the docks. How it cut through the outfit she'd been wearing ever since diving into the depths of the Ruby Sea. It was not meant for cooler climes like La Noscea or Coerthas.
"...He deserved it," Erna said. "Every word."
Fray laughed, a harsh sound that rang strangely through her ears. "Right you are, Ernastral! Right you are!"
She could practically hear the smile on Fray's face behind her helmet, and it chilled her even more than the breeze cutting through her.
"Felt good, didn't it? Seein' that blubberin' wretch tremble. I think he nearly pissed himself!"
Fray let out another self-satisfied cackle. Erna found herself grinning despite herself. Yeah... yeah, it did feel good to put one of those pompous merchant types in their place.
"You're finally starting to see them for what they are now, aren't you? Good, good. All that remains is to hearken to the voice─to grasp its words and discover your true calling..."
Erna reached out towards Fray, and began the communion as she had multiple times before. With each breath, she slipped further into the abyss.
A chorus of voices cries out for a hero, and she comes.
She smiles. She nods. And she remains silent...
But she too has a voice...
I will be heard...
"...Ernastral Klyng."
Erna opened her eyes and stood up, facing Fray.
"You stand at the precipice, but do not fear the fall. Cast yourself into the abyss, and you shall soar above, free at last."
She felt her stomach twisting into knots again. Cast yourself into the abyss. Oh how many times had she had such a thought? How many times had she considered plunging into the depths of black magic, of really cutting loose and raising hells?
How many times had she shied away, for one reason or another? For the sake of her friends, of her family, of the people around her. How many times had she had to keep quiet about her arts lest she face hostility and distrust. How many times had she had to keep a low profile lest her very presence bring misfortune upon innocent souls.
"There are other lands than these, Ernastral─lands where we are not known. Ask, and we shall quit this place forever. Only when you have renounced everything are you free to do anything."
Are you ready to give up on the fame and glory you once sought?
"When we meet again, you will give us your answer."
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Very Short Crackpot FNAF One-Shot: “A Conversation Between An Animatronic and An Android”
AKA “What happens when William (as Scrap-Trap) talks it up with a version of Hatsune Miku?”
The only regret I might have is accidentally making Miku OOC.
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Scraptrap placed an elbow on the wormwood table. He leaned forward, though the chair opposite him was empty. His one metal ear raised and lowered, if only to keep the servos working. He would have kept an eye on the time, but no clock was present in the nearly-lightless room.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait much longer. A distant whirring sounded from the back of the room. Whitish beams of light shined in from the right corner. These beams, as if by some wondrous force, made a young woman materialize out of thin air. She sat still for a moment, as if waiting for the rest of herself to make the trip. Then, when her appearance stabilized, she simply waved and smiled. “Hello, sir,” she said in a robotic, but friendly tone. “How are you?”
“I’m mystified, quite frankly,” Scraptrap responded, his uneven eyelids raising. “Can.. you see me?”
The woman put a finger on her chin. “I think so, sir,” she answered, her tone flattening a little. “Are you the rabbit in front of me?”
”Yes, I am,” Scraptrap replied with a nod. “And you are—Forgive me if I butcher this—Ha…Hot-zune…?”
“Hatsune Miku,” the woman cut in with that ever-polite tone. She moved her finger to the corner of her mouth, as if to draw attention to it. Then, she drew out each syllable: “Ha.. tsu.. neh.. Mee.. coo”
Scraptrap bobbed his head. “So, you do pronounce the ‘e’ at the end?” he questioned. “Because I understood that the ‘e’ was silent.”
“It goes either way here in your country,” Miku shrugged. “As long as you get ‘Miku’ right, I don’t really mind.”
Scraptrap chuckled in relief. “Seeing as we’re doing introductions, I can help you pronounce my name,” he added as he leaned back in his chair. “Unless you’ve already got it down, of course.”
Miku gave a sign of appreciation. “I have got both names logged into my voice bank,” she explained. “But thank you for your consideration.”
“Of course,” Scraptrap responded casually. “Now that we’ve gotten all of that settled, I suppose I should ask you the obvious: What are you exactly? A musical artist from Japan? An android, given your voice bank system? A synthesizer come to ‘life’? I’ve been scouring the web, and I’ve been seeing conflicting reports.”
Miku straightened herself into a regal posture. “I am many things,” she replied in a proud tone. “A singer in multiple languages, a worldwide superstar, and a fashion model of sorts. But, if you want to know my true function, then I’ll put it this way; I am a tool to help artists find a voice for their song. If they cannot sing,—Or they just want to make their song sound cooler— then I step in. I am, as you said, ‘a synthesizer come to life’.”
“Fascinating!” Scraptrap exclaimed, his hoarse voice nearly cracking from the expressed shock. “I had a similar idea for my own business back in the early nineties, but I used original recordings from voice actors. You sound completely robotic to me— Which is a compliment of high regard, mind you.”
Miku grinned. “Thank you, but I do use recordings too,” she corrected before she pointed to her head. “They are all spliced syllables that my ‘head’ arranges, ranging from ‘A’ to ‘Zee’. But, since I’m from Japan, I don’t think I pronounce some of your words correctly.”
”Ha,” Scraptrap scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about that, Miss Miku. You’re doing very well, given where your native language. Believe me, I’m sure I’d be bungling up yours if I tried to learn it.” Then, as if some phantom voice reminded him of why they’re here, he returned to a more professional posture. “Moving on,” he continued. “Given your previous answer, does this mean that any artist can use your voice?”
“Yes,” Miku answered swiftly. “As long as they have the right software for me.”
“For any genre?”
“Yes, sir. I have even sounded as grungy as you when performing metal.”
Scraptrap raised his ear at the last remark, but pressed on. “So am I to understand that there are countless artists, ranging from multiple genres?”
“There are many ‘producers’, yes,” Miku responded with a firm nod. “That’s what we call ‘artists’ here.”
Scraptrap’s eyes shifted erratically. “I’m going to be honest with you, Miss Miku,” he said with a tremor. “I originally called you here because of general curiosity. My daughter wanted to dress up as you for Halloween, and I had no clue who you were. As we discussed earlier, I did do some research and the frenzy for knowledge grew. Now that we’ve explained some of your background and your purpose, I.. I almost want to try this whole ‘producer’ idea. F-For one song, of course.”
Miku leaned forward. “Do you want to ‘look cool’ for your daughter?” she asked with a hint of smugness.
Scraptrap rubbed the back of his stringy neck with his head. “If it’s even possible,” he admitted with a weak chuckle. “I know she respects me and all, but I feel like I might embarrass her soon enough. Especially with this whole meeting situation.”
The android giggled, putting a hand to her mouth. “Don’t ‘sweat it’, as you say here,” she answered confidently. “I’ll talk it out with my new producer, then let you know if it’s all good. If it is, then just send us the lyrics with that little teddy-bot of yours. We can take it from there.”
“In English or in Japanese?” Scraptrap asked in a daze.
“Whichever works for you. I can handle multiple languages.”
Scraptrap muttered something to the affect of ‘should’ve remembered that’ under his breath, then cleared his throat. “Then I suppose I can give you a rough guitar track, if that would help,” he suggested. “I know I’m.. limited in my ability to play now, but I’m sure it would aid your producer in his work.”
Miku bobbed her head confidently. “Sounds like a deal,” she grinned, stretching out her arm as she stood up. “Welcome to the Vocaloid world, Mister Scraptrap.”
With some effort, Scraptrap ‘shook hands’ with the ghostly figure. Though he was simply interacting with thin air, an absolute rush of joy filled within him. “Before you go, I think there’s one more topic we need to dicuss,” he added. “Am I allowed to remain anonymous for this? Or do I need a brahd new stage name?”
Miku hummed thoughtfully. “If you want credit for the idea, I’d go for the stage name,” she advised at last. “Do you have any in mind?”
Scraptrap’s eyelids raised. “What’s your country’s word for ‘Gold Rabbit’?” he asked in return.
”Gōrudousagi,” Miku replied cheerfully.
The rabbit grinned. “I think, with some alterations, that’d be a fantastic stage name,” he remarked, refraining himself from ‘hugging’ the woman. “They’ll just assume it’s some random soul helping out with the production! It’s perfect! Thank you so much!”
”You are welcome, Mister Gōrudo,” Miku finished, bowing low. “Thank you so much for having me.” Before the elder rabbit could finish, however, Miku vanished into thin air. The projector shut off with a heavy clank. Scraptrap was alone yet again.
The owner of the projector, sitting in a separate room, looked at the extensive collection of open windows on his computer. Miku sat there in the center of her screen, happily relaying one of her idle animations. With a heavy sigh, the man leaned back in his seat and looked up at the celiing. “We’re really going to be in for it now, Meek,” he grumbled with a slight drawl. “I don’t know what he’s got planned, but I’m sure it’s something that would break your little voice bank if I wasn’t in charge. Guess I’ll just wait it out until my old friend’s ready with his ‘demo’.”
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I'VE BEEN THERE
Let's talk about how hard to survive this year. Isn't? We encounter a lot of unexpected happenings. We cried, we give up, we surrender and we almost die. So answer me in a honest way, what keeps you going?
Since there's a lot of unsaid words, unspeakable feelings and not answerable thoughts there's also a lot of things to give thanks.
Written this on December 8 at 9:03 PM but i don't know when will i publish this. I guess it's up to my mood? opps no! I'll surely upload this soonest as much as i can.
But before we go dig in, i want to say thank you!
Thank you for reading, i honestly don't imagine that someone like you will read this blog. It's really appreciated, no words can expand how grateful i am to have you as my reader. I mean, i do not know what will be the outcome of this letter after i publish this but i promise to give you more chapters. So let's cheers for surviving the whole year!
A message to my past, present and future self
2021 thank you.
A thousand thank you for you. 3000 sorry for myself. And forever praise to the Lord for letting me survived this year.
No one saw me drowning in pain, but You saw me. No one notice that i disappear, i escape and i give up but You saved me. No one thought me to fight for this but You gave me a thousand reason to continue.
I encounter a lot of people, the permanent ones and a people for a short time. Most of them used me for their own satisfaction, some of them hurt me physical, emotional, spiritual and mental. It caused me trauma to trust people, it made me hard to believed what love really feels like. I mean, not a romance pov but in some way, how can i tell somebody to love themselves but i can't do it by my self?
She have a thin body, thin eyebrows, dry hair, ugly nose and it's hard for her to accept who really she i is. And when ever someone call her pretty it made her really anxious because she really don't believe that she is beautiful. Btw, SHE IS ME.
In my whole entire life, all that I've experienced is they're bullying me, using me and no one can listen to me. And you know what's the hardest? people knew me for being so confident and not shy over nothing. But it's not 〒_〒 I am the happiest and the saddest person you've ever met.
I've been there.
For a long time that i suffer and cried over the things that they have done to me i realized that all of the people that caused me trauma are fully moved on. They are okay. And i hope me too.. (napag iiwanan na ako...)
I'm still drowning from my own thinkings that, "why would they do that?" "what did i ever do to deserve a life with so much pain?"
It kills me everyday.
It so suffocating that I'm swallowing my pride just to forgive them without hearing any sorry. It's really hard 〒_〒
But praise forever the Lord for letting me feel all the kinds of feelings. Because one thing i knew is that, i am very brave. His love made me brave.
I've been there.
And i thanked God for allowing me to know Him. Coz you know what? if i don't know Him, i am now dead. I tried many self harm, thinking that if i end my life i will be living in peace. But thank God because He let me encounter Him and by that, the fear that i'll go to hell is the one who keeps me going. Believe it or not, I've been there.
And to my future self,
promise to love you more
It's hard but i know you will find rest in His presence
I know you can forgive them in order to open your heart to love them once again
Take your time to heal from the pain they caused to you and make it more easy to find the reason to continue
It's almost Kez, it is
You will finish the race, and you will continue because i know you
You may feel tired but you don't really want to give up
I'm so excited to see you happy again, to see you growing and healing.
Please hang in there for yourself, walk for your dreams and go fight alone. I know you can do it!
i love you and happy new year. ♡
New start for all of us, and you, the one who's reading this. Fight for yourself okay? if nobody can fight for you. YOU can do it by YOURSELF. I know, i know that it's hard for you to trust yourself at this moment but please believe that even if the time is running you have your own race, and you must run for YOURSELF.
Because you don't have to compare yourself to what others achievement. Because YOU HAVE YOUR OWN. You just don't see it right now, but YOU HAVE YOUR TIME and you must wait for it. Please stop praying for the things that really don't work out. I know, i know it's hard but can you change your mindset from i can't to I MUST CAN?
I mean, you must can because you are you! You know your self more than anyone else. Even if your mother has given birth to you, she has no idea what is your other side, believe it or not you only know your self. And the ability to believe that you can, CAN help you to survive.
And at this year, let's declare that "I MUST SURVIVE!"
Declare that upon your lungs,
Say it to your heart
Believe it to your mind
Change for yourself
You must love yourself
Because at the end of the day
YOU MUST CAN.
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thinking about an owl house au
(its been a good chunk of time since i watched the first season too so forgive me for any misremembered stuff)
but luz doesnt run into eda when she first arrives. a random chance where eda isn’t looking, luz slips away, and everythign changes
shes moving through the market, in awe of everything around her. and then some guards find her. two big bulky idiots- and one short guy with a golden mask.
hunter see’s this person- with the ears, this human- and decides that belos needs to see this. so he takes her to belos, saying to luz that belos will “know what to do with her.” luz, of course, is scared. thats a fucking ominious thing to say.
so he takes her to belos. belos orders everyone out of the room. he starts being his normal early season Emperor Belos self. he hasnt had seasons of this human thwarting him- he, when not in front of others, has no reason to be mean to her. she’s human, after all, like him. well luz doesnst like how he’s saying everyone is “evil” because sure, they were kinda creepy, but like so are spiders but they’re not inherently evil.
conversation happens but luz realizes this guy is from colonial times and she figures out he plans to return home and pulls the same card she does in her stand off with him in the show: “the human world has changed, and you need a guide.” so he doesnt lock her up, despite how she sympathies with the witches.
well, he does lock her up. but in a decent room high up so she cant run. and they begin lesson on history and culture and changes to the human world. and look, luz isnt stupid, but she is a certified Weird Kid and so her interests and relm of knowledge isnt the best place to start, but it works.
the emperor knows his golden guards have this faulty thing where they keep liking witches and keep betraying him. theyre obedient, yes, but up until theyre not. so he doesnt order hunter to look after the human- thats a recipe for disaster- but he doesnt explicitly order him to stay away from her. that would just be piquing his curiosity too much. so it happens that hunter stumbles upon luz as she is frantically taking notes on thins she remembers for the next lesson, some aspect of human culture and media that she thinks is interesting: The Good Witch Azura.
anyways the two befriend each other, and when belos finds out, he pulls the “she’s messing with your mind only i can see through her tricks stay away” because okay, obviously hoping hunter wouldnt be interested didnt work.
well hunter isnt stupid, but he is still obedient. but this is also the first person to be nice to him, to treat him like a kid. so they keep talking. and at one point, luz gets curious. and sneaks around. and finds a guide to glyphs. and eventually one to the spell that puts people in other peoples minds/memories.
she convinces hunter to go in with her (”if hes really as good as you say, then this should reinforce it, right? and i’ll agree with whatever you and he say about this place and the human realm” by this point, shes already tried to convince hunter that belos hates witches, and hunter doesnt believe her, but its gotten him thinking a little) the memory part goes pretty much the same to Hollow Mind, but they make an exit because obviously she actually knows the spell and didnt accidentally stumble in this time.
hunter is horrified, but cant run off because theyre in the middle of belos’s castle. so luz and him form an escape plan
and this begins the duo on the run.
and i havent thought past this much, but basically they meet their friends from the show who are all pretty much worse off (luz wasnt there to help willow join the plant track, and amity with her parents, and eda with all that, and etc).
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