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#like grains of sand movie

eridanidreams · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagging: @bearlytolerant, @silurisanguine, @aro-pancake, @fangbangerghoul, @atonalginger, @aislingdmdt, @fshenkoescape, @ninjaofnaps, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, @thatsgoodsquishy0, @hockeydemon42, @fomagranfalloon @violenceandviolets, and @artemis-crimson

Y'all know the score, post if you've got 'em, and if not, just enjoy!

from stars through my fingers like grains of sand

The remains of lunch were scattered across the table. Knowing how even a short dogfight could take it out of someone, Sam had flat refused to let Cait cook. Wasn't like she hadn't already prepared a week's worth of meals already; all he had to do was reheat a few. "I'm telling you," Cora repeated patiently, "we all need secret identities. The sidekick always has a name related to the hero."

"So what are you," Sam teased. "Insectikid?"

"Young Mantis!" Cora countered.

"Too derivative," Sam chuckled. "The Spiderette? The Caterpillar?"

"Da-ad!" Cora gave him an exasperated look while Cait sat back quietly and smiled. "Mantises don't come from caterpillars."

"So what do they come from?" she asked logically.

"Nymphs," Cait offered.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, vetoing that one right now." His daughter was too young to be 'nymph' anything.

Cait tilted her head, thinking, while Sam and Cora tossed even more ridiculous names back and forth—and not just for her. "I don't need a name," he argued. "I'm not the sidekick."

"The fearless partner," Cait murmured, low and amused.

"Auuuugh! Dad, that's not how it works! If you're the partner of the Mantis, you can't be just you! You might blow her cover, or someone could use you to get to her!" Cora got up and was pacing back and forth, throwing her hands around in a twelve-year-old frenzy.

"If I might?" Cait was turning something over in her hands, and she had a wry smile on her face. "I think I can solve both these conundrums." She looked over at Cora. "For you? The Phasmid. Phasmids are related to mantises, but sneakier."

"Ooooh, I know what those are!" Cora enthused. "They're ambush predators that look like other things, like leaves and sticks and flowers!"

"Or in your case, a twelve-year-old girl," Sam teased. "Waiting to strike against any unwary library or bookstore that might pass her way."

"I LOVE IT!" Cora bounced over and gave Cait a hug. Cait, for her part, seemed to be getting used to Cora's adolescent enthusiasm, and returned it less awkwardly than usual. "So what's that?" Cora pointed at the thing Cait was fiddling with.

"Something I found in one of the abandoned bases we were exploring," Cait said, laying it on the table. It was a hand-written card; on yellowing paper, it read:

MERC FOR HIRE HAVE GUN, WILL TRAVEL SSCOM: 1957PDIN

Sam looked down at it, then back up at Cait, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" He'd been a fan of the classic vids as a kid, of course, had thrilled to the adventures of Josh Randall, Agents James West and Artemus Gordon, and—of course—Paladin.

She shrugged. "Aren't you always telling me to go big or go home? Besides, we've resurrected one legend today, why not two?"

Sam felt a slow smile cross his face. "I do cut a dashing figure in black…" He slapped the table in sudden decision. "All right. Let's do it. The Mantis and Paladin, partners in anti-crime."

"And me!" Cora piped up.

"And our fearless sidekick the Phasmid," he agreed. Drink packs were awkward for making a toast, but they managed to slosh them together anyway. "May all our victories be as sweet," Sam declared.

#sam coe #fanfic #eridani writes #starfield #caitlyn lynch #stars through my fingers like grains of sand #wip wednesday #josh randall - wanted dead or alive #james west and artemus gordon - wild wild west #the tv series not the wretched movie #paladin - have gun will travel

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cinemaronin · 1 year

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Like Grains of Sand (1995)

渚のシンドバッド Like Grains of Sand (1995) direcred by Ryosuke Hashiguchi

#渚のシンドバッド #like grains of sand #ryosuke hashiguchi #lgqtb #asian film #japanese movies #japanese cinema

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celluloidrainbow · 1 year

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渚のシンドバッド | LIKE GRAINS OF SAND (1995) dir. Ryosuke Hashiguchi Shuji Ito is a shy boy in the top class at secondary school. He feels attracted to his classmate and best friend Yoshida, who is not aware of Ito's intimate feelings. The two spend time with Tōru Kanbara, whose comic actions hide his sensitive nature. Kasane Aihara is new at school and remains aloof with her cool attitude. No one knows that at her previous school she was assaulted and is now in therapy. Meanwhile, Yoshida, who is currently involved with the insecure Shimizu, is interested in Aihara, the mysterious new girl. Each teen is hiding behind a wall which they must break through during this tough process of maturation. (link in title)

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daswarschonkaputt · 2 years

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so im pretty excited abt ur abo kp fic which is new to me bc i normally dont care abt abo? this isnt shade or bullshit btw i hope i just wanted to ask how u conceptualize gender and sex in abo? tags on the notfic r 100% right btw more trans abo. im always put off by most abo for the idea that cis male omegas basically?? have a cloacae for an anus but also a dick? it feels too alien for a non paranormal genre. do u think anatomy ought to be addressed more or left to suspension of disbelief?

right straight off the bat we're putting this one behind a readmore, because i don't want to wig anyone out. a/b/o be weird.

essentially, the way i conceptualise a/b/o and how gender and sex work is:

male/female - usually identifiable at birth, with obviously some grey area in there for intersex people.

alpha/beta/omega - surfaces during puberty, at which point the body changes in whichever way the subgender inclines.

i usually write it that it's not really possible to tell how someone's subgender will present until it does, because i think the inherent tension between "this is how i was treated growing up" vs. "this is how people treat me now" gives the most room for social commentary, and character growth, which is one of my favourite parts of a/b/o. so everyone's body has the base potential to go any subgender way.

relatedly, one of my least favourite tropes in a/b/o is the trope where a character unexpectedly discovers they're an omega and they hate it and take drugs to make themselves a beta, and they wish they were a beta/alpha and as a reader i just have to sit there like, and the logical ending to this story ISN'T that they're trans????

in fact, this trope irritated me so much that i fully outlined and started writing an original fic where the main character gets the whoops! all omega! reveal and instead of hating it and hiding it, feels fulfilled and more comfortable in himself, because it enables him to put into words and be accepted for aspects of his gender identity that have existed his entire life.

ahem. omega biology. back on track.

male omegas are one of those fandom tropes that i just... choose not to look at too closely. science brain well and truly turned off. because of how the kinnporsche mpreg fic is structured (porsche not knowing he's pregnant, and not knowing he could become pregnant) -- we're probably looking at assbabies for that one, though i usually prefer to go the male omegas are intersex (and female alphas are, as well) route, just because it makes most sense to me. but -- this is fanfic. things only make sparing amounts of sense 20% of the time.

truthfully, i think the question of anatomy depends on the fic. i do think there is a level of suspension of disbelief that is needed to read a/b/o, but to me that's true of all sci-fi. a lot of genre studies essays on sci-fi talk about this idea of a novum, a point of divergence that makes the sci-fi story different from our world. it can be a thing, an idea, a hypothetical. for example, in mass effect, the novum is the mass drivers. in star trek it's the warp core. in the martian, it's leaving a man behind on mars. and with sci-fi, you're not meant to question the novum. it's the foundational part of the universe. sci-fi is the question, "what if [x] was different?"

so with a/b/o, the novum is, well, it's the a/b/o dynamics. "what if human reproductive biology was on crack?" the bits i'm interested in are the answers that spiral out from that question -- i'm not really focused all that much on the question itself.

but, like i said, it depends on the fic. if the fic's question is, "so, if we do have these a/b/o dynamics, how does the biology actually work?" then obviously it's a bit more relevant. but i've only seen one or two a/b/o fic that approach the matter like that.

hope that makes sense!

#fic: kp mpreg au #guys pls don't get me started on the a/b/o as sci-fi again #kaputt writes stuff #asked and answered #a/b/o cw #omegaverse cw #totally respect not being able to turn off science brain tho #there are some sci fi movies i have to turn off bc i Cannot #things spiralling out from the novum is one of the best parts of sci fi tho #like in mass effect there's no ammo bc the mass driver means they can use grains of sand as ammo #just accelerating them to NYOOM speeds #so they're functionally bullets #genuinely one of my favourite parts of worldbuiling #i rave about it all the time to people who know me

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downlikelighting · 4 months

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Like Grains Of Sand (1995)

#Like Grains Of Sand #japanese movie #jmovie

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clarabowmp3 · 4 months

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HAHAHA crazy rich asians is my go to cause usually when i’m taking a plane it’s to singapore oops 😭😭

asdkdjlgf other than the shots in like Changi airport/the hawker centre or some of the tourist attractions the rest of the locations are sooooo drastically unfamiliar to me its so funny like they rlly are crazy CRAZY rich huh

#and its always made me curious #abt how much of this movie is hyperbole #cuz i alr feel like my family is on the more “”“comfortable”“” end in terms of socioeconomic status #and i still cannot comprehend anyoneee having that much wealth/having that kind of house especially in SG like hello #we're counting every inch of land we have grain by grain (of sand) + all the land reclamation #you expect me to believe there is anyyy amount of money that would let the govt allow someone to own that much land IN ADDITION to that spr #wling house? ok

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bbangtans · 27 days

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daybreak | jjk | oneshot teaser

Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional rating/warnings: M | alcohol consumption, lots of swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t be all willy nilly with this tho!!!), dig bick jk lmfao, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, multiple orgasms. a/n: inspired by my faaaaaave movie before sunrise bc if there’s anything namjoon and i have in common, it’s that we are yearners 🤝 word count: ~10k POSTED: link

You cursed every cliched metaphor referencing the elusiveness of time… the grains of sand slipping through fingertips, the ticking of clock hands that echo in the back of your head, the passage of breezes, and the eventual rising of the morning sun.

Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“I just want you to know that I loved being in this moment. Sharing this night with you, that tonight it felt like New York was all ours. I could have never seen its beauty and experienced its magic the way I did with you.” Barely managing through your cries, you gasped for a breath as you tried to make out the next words. “But why did things have to turn out this way?”

The loud caws of the seagulls as they flew over the pier and the cold morning air fell onto forgotten senses as the only thing you could feel was the intensity of Jungkook’s stare on you. From your forehead that he placed a tender kiss upon, to your eyes that mirrored that silent longing his contained, the nose that he nuzzled against his, and chin that he held softly in his rough hand… It was like he was taking a picture of you at that moment. A moment where he was not rockstar Jeon Jungkook, but the Jungkook who always found a way to make you laugh and the Jungkook you dreamed of sharing matching rings with. And you were not the person living too fast for anyone to keep up with, but a person who could find the beauty in anything and the person that Jungkook could write a million and one songs about.

“Shh,” he comforted you as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I really can’t thank you enough for tonight… I’ve never hated to see morning as much as I do now.” He chuckled dryly at the irony of all.

You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”

“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.

“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest.

Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth and being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”

The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.

“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”

“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes.

No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.

#jungkook #bbangtans ff #bts fanfic #bbangtans jk ff #bts #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x y/n

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fauustic · 11 months

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a second chance

BRIEF SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, DESCRIPTION OF REVEALED WORLD-BUILDING.

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. comfort. a bit of fluff. miguel o’hara breaks up with you for your safety, but the universe gives you both a second chance.

warnings: description of violence.

word count: 7358

Somehow, the city seemed even more suffocating out the window of Miguel’s apartment, lights of every color on the spectrum peering into the room as highly advanced cars skimmed by. The millions of people inhabiting such a place had their own problems, but for a moment you wished you were someone else. On their way to work in a tip-top business suit, an old person trying to make the most out of every passing day– anything other than here was more appetizing.

For a moment, you wish you were ignorant to the burden of these powers, the powers Miguel was forced upon and the powers you greedily accepted like a little kid in a candy shop.

It was all too much.

You’ve never seen Miguel so emotional, his knees meeting the ground before you could even shut the door.

There were glimpses of what let through, the broken state of his mind that he so desperately tried to keep together like grains of sand falling through fingers. Late nights he would break down sobbing in your grounding hold, chanting and repeating broken phrases of what had him so upset. Other times these fits you slowly grew accustomed to would be set off from your kindness, actions so deeply rooted in your routine that when it started creating disturbances in your relationship. It was painful, being the glue that held him together.

At the beginning of your relationship, it was something magical. Like one of the romance comics you’d skim through as a teenager, or a romcom movie that had you pining for the lovey-dovey side character.

Miguel was set in his ways no matter what he was faced upon, and making a statement on how serious he felt about you was no different. He’d court you with the utmost respect, swaying you with gifts and flowers that reminded him of you. His affectionate nature came to fruition as you crumbled all his walls in mere months, destroying the years of progress that he enforced to keep others out.

Yet, those nasty habits Miguel formed when he had no-one else slowly peeked through the crevices of your time together. Soft red flags that waved in passing roses he’d give after bad arguments of “your safety,” a bad feeling in your gut whenever Miguel mentioned something along the lines of, “they can’t hurt you too.”

The few months leading to the end of it all was messy, as secrets he precariously kept away from you fell right at your feet. Literally, and figuratively.

Waking into your shared home, all that was on your mind was preparing a meal for you boyfriend who always seemed to come home late. The scent of the apartment washed over your exhaustion-ridded body, cracking your shoulder with a pained hiss.

Distinct woody fragrances wafted throughout the cozy décor, Miguel’s aroma of Sambac jasmine combined with cedar and praline met your senses as a familiar comfort. You wondered if Miguel experienced the same after a long day, your magnolia and orange blossom washes relieving him of the stress of work.

Miguel was overwhelmed, sickened by his work at his lab. You’d always try to help him through his struggles with a massage, which he'd melt under your touch in mere seconds, but the moment you attempted to get him to speak about his troubles he always found an excuse.

So you stopped, having to face rejection so many times by the man you adored put so much wear on your own mental health too.

Getting home a bit earlier, you situated your suit in your over-the-shoulder bag before fully stepping into the apartment. As your entire being was surrounded by the reminder of Miguel, guilt slashed through your consciousness at keeping your own secrets away from him as well. But he was worried sick always, whether it be about his own duties or confusingly about your safety.

Yet, when your sneakers you changed into moments before entering the house slipped onto something haphazardly thrown against tile floor– the façade Miguel tried to feed into to "keep you away from harm" came crashing down.

It felt like an earthquake within your own home, rattling your heart around your ribcage like a feral bird stuck in an aviary. You were quiet, the gasp where sickness soon followed escaped through your stifling fingers wrapped against your mouth. It was terrible, being exposed to the truth in an act caught red-handed.

Curiosity snatched up your brain, the urge to prove what the mask strewn against the floor truly meant. You knew what was bound to come, but you couldn't help but think of a million different excuses in the time you tiptoed through the hallway and met the sight of his scarred back sitting upon the table.

His suit was torn off in a hurry, you assumed, by the state of how the half of his suit was rolled down to his waist and his mask was ripped off and thrown down carelessly. Finally catching him in such a vulnerable position, your heart seized and shriveled just to be rolled out again as his groan in pain cut you away from your thoughts.

You were upset. You know you had no right to be, but as every lie he fabricated to allow the space to have this second life pushed to the forefront of your mind, a choked sob erupted through your throat.

Why did he suffer through this burden alone? Is this what kept him from letting me in? Your brain became muddled with questions, tears clouding your tired gaze. Miguel was in the middle of tightening a gauze against a nasty cut on his forearm, curls damp with sweat and blood, when the choked cry that escaped your lips caught his attention like a spooked animal.

"Miguel," you sobbed harder as he continued to try and make excuses,

"Cariño, it isn't what it looks like–"

Your voice raised as heightened emotions threatened the atmosphere, your grasp on your bag tightening because you had your own secrets and second identity. Why wouldn't honesty escape from your mind and rid the ache in your chest?

You settled on being mad. Being absolutely furious as you reminded yourself of the lies he'd conjured, make you worry about his job as a chemist and even embarrass yourself by going up there and filing a complaint. Knowing it was all an act and you were just a side-character to his play, a mix of disappointment and betrayal fogged your mind. "I'm not blind, O'Hara!"

Stomping back down to swipe up the mask, lens broken and flimsy under your manhandling, you waved it around the air like you were showcasing an audience. Miguel only groaned, pinching his nose as his own frustration clouded his critical thinking. "I know exactly what I'm looking at, Miguel, really? Is this why you act like you're so fucking scared of something?"

He repeated your name this time, cold and calculated. Like you were a villain on the battlefield Spider-man– he– just destroyed earlier, spitting out the criminal's tag like it was worse than the dirt he stepped on. "¡Mierda!" He seethe, standing up only to shuffle closer, but you only stepped away. "Do you think I enjoyed keeping this fucked up secret away from you? No estoy orgullosa de mí misma."

Tell him you have the same problems.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You cried instead, and his hands reached to cradle your cheeks but you pathetically swiped them away.

Tell him you have to worry about living until the next day for the sake of protecting others.

He was frozen stiff, his hands– claws you've never noticed before, unsheathing in and out of his palms. "I.. was. But I was terrified."

Tell him you're scared of others finding out who you really are too. Tell him you relate, and there was no reason to hide anymore.

But you didn't, instead you wiped away your own tears with sweaty palms, struggling to keep yourself from staring at Miguel's broken expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, his arms reaching out to you subtly to show if you walked into his arms he'd never let you go.

"Scared of what?" You tried your best to sound as furious as before, but all that came was a meek whisper.

Miguel's own tears fell onto the floor, catching your eyes as you stared at his mask in your clutches. "I'm so, so fucking scared of losing you. Tú eres mi vida, the air I breathe. You're the one constant I've had in my life, having it ripped away from me would kill me."

He's finally being open, and for a moment you saw light at the end of the tunnel. A turning point for the man, a second chance at being transparent in your relationship. It gave you the courage to come clean about your own second life and to apologize for your irrational words. But he spoke before you, rough and etched with hurt.

"But I don't know if we can keep this up."

"What?" The trance he was putting you under was shattered.

He laughed at nothing, his stare tinted with animalistic craze. Miguel's claws dug into his curls, "We need to break up."

The mask in your grip fell, a stunned silence settling over the two of you. He had just said he couldn't live without you, how he wouldn't know what to do if you were ripped away from him– and now he's proposing a breakup?

"You, what? Is this some joke?"

He turned away from you, pacing in unsaid panic. You knew he didn't want to do this, yet once he had a plan in his mind you also knew that he'd sacrifice anything to do the "right thing."

Miguel repeats your name the second time that night, your composure thrown off at the lack of pet names he would utter like honey from his tongue. He sounds hollow, dissociated from himself to make this discussion finish quicker. "They, I'm scared– okay? Scared shitless that they're going to come after you." He wheezed out another dry laugh, his bruised knuckles coming to kiss his eyes to blind his vision. The loudness of your voice from before must be giving him headaches. Because you were struggling with the same thing too.

"I can fend for myself–" you began to counter, hands coming in contact with the spider suit in your bag before his booming voice shook you to your core.

"No, no. You don't understand." Sobs choked his words, a flood of tears he couldn't bother to rid staining his cheeks and rolling down his jaw. "You can't! They're coming for me, and the ones I love. And the only one I love is you." Miguel emphasized himself by grazing your chest with a talon, exactly where your heart beat lurched and pattered like a broken down engine. "They will target you, and they will kill you."

Desperate, you were the one now begging for him to walk into your embrace. But he only turned away, his marred back facing you. The image burned itself in your mind.

"Who are they, Miguel? Why, even now, you won't tell me anything?" You sank to your knees, crawling towards him in despair. It couldn't be over.

"Hemos terminado. We're done, over." Miguel's tone steeled over, icy and painful and jarring. "Get out of my house."

He stood there like a statue, one arm holding himself only for his free hand to be pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel didn't move as you quieted down your wails, and storm through the house to take what was yours and what you needed.

No words left your lips as you would steal a glance at his unmoving figure, the only giveaway that he was even breathing was his wavering composure. His attention stayed fixated on a corner of his apartment, head turned away from you the entire time.

You didn't care that you were still leaving so much of your stuff as your legs tripped over themselves to finally leave his apartment. You had more than enough money to live on your own, to buy the barebones like a toothbrush and necessities all over again.

Miguel O'Hara would now be a thing of the past, and all of the things tied to him could burn down in the apartment he held you.

Your senses could tell that once your sneakers squeaked down the hallway of his apartment, thinking you would never be able to notice– Miguel's knees met the floor of his apartment with a heavy thud.

Fighting the amount of bags in your hands while simultaneously pushing the button of the first floor repetitively, the last memory you have of Miguel was his unfiltered sobs filling the apartment floor.

☆

With time, you found yourself.

Whether it be from the new body wash you had bought for yourself or the different commute you began to take for work, a niche engineering project you've stumbled upon after the breakup– and it coincidentally helps you test materials that you could incorporate into your suit. The constant reminder of the man you brought to your knees didn't hurt that much anymore. Progress was being made, or so you thought.

Every time your back met a brick wall from the force of some outer-dimensional monster turned sentient who all of a sudden wants to get back at the human race, the thud that echoed from the impact would knock you right back to the apartment filled with sweet praline and magnolia. His sobs trailing behind a screech of pain from your enemies, causing hesitation in your combat.

The cheers below you snapped you out of your daze, civilians chanting for your victory or screaming in fear as they ran away. After the breakup, you've found yourself with the leniency of being able to suit up whenever your heart desires because you weren't keeping a secret away from another anymore.

You bit your cheek in frustration, upset at how you handled the situation because you had done the same and you were mad at him for doing exactly what you were doing. All these months have passed, and you still can't help but feel guilty.

But it's in the past now.

Another screech met your ears, back shivering as a chill washed over your spine. With the fast reaction speed you were able to build, you swung out of the way to another rooftop before the alienistic creature side slammed you. The web slinger you have tinkered with enhanced your ability to shoot out organic webs at a consistent pace, working as fine as a charm when you swing back towards the vicious monster to crunch your knuckles sickeningly into its slimy flesh. It glitched disgustingly.

It withered away with ease, falling off the skyscraper it had leaped upon in an attempt to finish you off. Throwing a device onto the being, it was trapped into a vibrant hold it couldn’t get out of.

Your soft cream-white suit glistened with its green blood, covering the black trim you painstakingly painted in the dead of night.

The appearance you kept up as a Spider-person upgraded with time because you didn't exactly mind the limelight. Not staying in the shadows anymore since you didn't have to worry about O’Hara finding out about you, your suit became something you adorned with confidence. It was a part of you now, as cheers sounded out from below at your entertaining brawl with a slime monster that totally wants to eradicate the city.

But yeah, go ahead and cheer you poor ignorant souls.

You never really came up with a name, but as you began incorporating little trinkets on your newly added combat satchel like a stray feather and charms of swans because a little girl said "your suit reminded her of one," the news generously graced you with the title "Spider Swan." On some bad days on the broadcast, though, the name would easily become a tomato show for jokes like "baby bird couldn't flap its wings," or "someone left the nest a bit too early."

It was infuriating.

The headgear installed in your mask allowed you to pick up on police waves, listening into calls and urgent matters so you could have a better idea of where you were needed and how you could help.

It rang through the noise of webs slinging from a glass window to a neon billboard, the police urgently requesting backup on a city street not that far away from you. It was describing a creature just like the one you obliterated, slimy and green and totally not from your universe. A scream pierced the radio waves, encouraging a sense of a little more urgency in your movements.

Becoming more involved with this line of work, you began to understand Miguel's worries. Corrupt organizations would pray for your downfall, threatening everyone you should probably hold dear to your heart as your spurred shoes met the slide of their faces. Other times skilled criminals would form alliances with one another and try to dig up your true identity as a way of blackmail.

It never worked and they're now where they need to be, but you suppose after you hear so many threats you begin to take it with nonchalance– and suddenly it isn't an empty threat– the panic that overwhelmed O’Hara was perfectly reasonable.

The beautiful lights of the underground city lit up against your lenses like a wildfire, a visual feast you’ve never been able to get enough of. Swinging throughout the tight spaces of Nueva York, you neared closer to where you were needed. A gunshot veered past you, presumably from a dumb cop, and you had to flip in the air and roll onto the street before picking up speed again.

Hissing out in pain, a quip escaped your lips when you neared the police force. “Did anyone here train to do their job? The last time I was here you almost shot me in my good eye–” Before you could even finish your sentence, two rookies pulled their guns in a defensive stance. With a heavy sigh, you easily subdued them with your webs before swinging into action.

The monster looked as if it was already struggling, turned away from your figure and groaning in its mother tongue, oozing with a gross slime that littered and disrupted the flow of traffic down below. It was relatively larger than the one you had just captured and suddenly the device in your hand feels a little too small. Nonetheless, as the villain flailed lazily, the heel of your foot met the crunching sensation from one of its many eyes. You almost gagged as it exploded onto your white suit, but the navy blue lenses meeting your contrasting white made time stop. It wasn’t until one of the many tentacles belonging to the creature yanked your ankle– soaring you violently towards a skyscraper– that the trance from the one you had been avoiding was interrupted with a shock.

“You–”

He had been trying to find you like a fox finding a bunny, you knew that. Waiting in the shadows, you always see him stalking beyond the darkness. And now you’re right here, finally coexisting in the same space after months of a cat-mouse game. “Can’t exactly talk here,” You yelled, deepening your voice in a pitch that made you cringe. “Let’s put a raincheck on what’s going on here and focus on the weird dimensional-octopus that’s currently beating your ass.” Spider-Man, with a groan of frustration that was just so familiar, noticeably squinted in your direction that had you sweating bullets as he right hooked the head of the monstrosity.

You knew everything about him. He knew nothing about you.

“I’m supposed to be the one and only Spider-Man of this–” He dodged a tentacle aiming for the head, only to unsheathe his claws and start ripping into the flesh of the villain. The smell, something similar to the stench of Sulphur mixed with radioactive chemicals. It burned your enhanced senses, tipping your balance before you caught yourself.

“Well obviously, you’re not.” Steadying your emotions, the calmness of your tone contrasted his irritability. “You know it’s not impossible–” Webs meeting tentacles, the screech of the glitching excrescence interrupting your words before quickly silencing it with another heel to the eyes. Pointing up and then at the watch around his wrist, you gave him a pointed look and a shrug. Nothing was said, but at the exasperated howl at your accusatory gesture– he obviously understood the unsaid.

“I’ve been speaking to you for a minute–” Another punch. “And I’m already finding you the most annoying out of all of them–”

You rolled your eyes, webbing the tentacles of the monster together like shoelaces stuck together. “Gee, thanks tough guy.” No response.

The monstrosity the two of you had been grappling against grew more frantic with its movements, growing more aware of its losing battle by the moment. With defeat in tow, the tentacles split into multiple. Green juice splattering excessively over the city blocks, it screamed horrendously in pain. The dimensional monster was imploding into itself, never allowing it the chance to return back to its universe.

Being so close to the glitching, dramatic death of the slime monster– Spider-Man pushed the heaving half-corpse’s weight off his own in a flurry. Always having to be quick on your feet in this field, you webbed the monster in the air so it could hang uselessly– the death of the anomaly would not be able to interfere with anything amongst Nueva York.

Being on your own despite having so much at your finger-tips, the separation between you and O’Hara made things difficult. You were on your own despite being at the core of everything.

Head buzzing with spider senses, your attention snapped towards the man that is tangled with your entire being– a useless game of push-and-pull that neither one of you are giving into.

Spider-Man miscalculated the leap away, his claws trying to find purchase in the metal beams of the building. But something was wrong, the slime running down his forearms ruining his suit’s resistance.

The structure O’Hara clung to was threatening to crumble due to the constant strain of the battle, doused in the greasy muck that pixelated and discolored by each passing moment the villain was close to combusting entirely. Before you knew it, the construction of the building that was so complexly fabricated was coming down and shifting into rubble on the borough down below.

Your limbs began moving on its own, your mind racing into a frenzy of saving the people down below and the man you revolved around like the sun and moon– unknowing forces pushing the two of you together but never touching.

Until now.

The collision lasted only seconds, but to you it was as if the eclipse was forever. Skin sizzling with nerves you didn’t even know you could feel ignited aflame, the pads of your feet coming into contact with the building’s crumbling walls– diving into spaces and using the webs you shot as a catapult.

Your hold came into contact with a body before you knew it, warm and intimate like you were back in his home. Tucked away in the softness of his duvet, your arms wrapped around his skin like an anchor against the raging waves. Memories came flooding in, lightheaded with your spider senses crying out in danger against the puzzle pieces that placed O’Hara on a pedestal. The first rose he gave you floated through the crevices of your brain, an astray petal landing softly on a memory you forced down.

The radioactive spider that latched its fangs into your skin on the night you met O’Hara, pain mixing with anticipation.

It's like the city lights grew more vibrant at the realization, soda blue mixing with dragon fruit pink– lime green swirling with sunny yellow. Everything fits together. This was how it was supposed to go, despite all the pain.

Strength you’ve built up allowed yourself to heave him onto your shoulder, breathing heavily at his weight crushing yours. But determination and adrenaline pushed you further, swinging through the shadowed city until you found a safe perch– laying him down gently. Time was running out, but you had to do what needed to be done.

Ripping on the tattered mask upon your face, you scooped up his head into a soft grasp. Right hand behind his neck and the other leaning the back of his head towards your unearth identity, his lenses tiredly widened at the abrupt reveal.

Tears you didn’t know you had in you– not shedding a tear ever since the day the two of you broke up– flooded your eyes and rolled down your sliced skin. Salt mixed with flesh, the pain kept you wide awake and aware.

“Still the most annoying one you ever met?” You couldn’t help but try to ease the tension in the atmosphere, yet failing with obvious reason.

O’Hara whispered your name like a blessing, claw upon his chest meeting the dirt on your cheek in the softest graze he’s ever bestowed against you. “You– you’re here.”

“I’m here.” You echoed, resting your forehead against his own. His suit caressed against your skin, and the world stopped. All that you could hear was his soft wheezing of breath and your own, and suddenly everything felt okay.

“¿Cómo puede ser eso?” He muttered aloud, “How can this be? How are you here?” he became a mumbling mess as nervousness clutched his rationality. O’Hara’s hand swiping against your jaw shifted to the small of your back in a hug. It was like nothing had ever happened, and you were about to fall in the ravine of his presence before a ear-blasting trill of beams breaking pulled you back into reality. You stood up, rolling your mask back on before looking down below. A miracle was going to have to happen for everything to turn out okay, but you were willing to take that risk. He called your name, reaching the hand not clutching his side out in desperation. “Don’t do this– you can’t change–”

You kept your back turned, shooting your webs onto a piece of rubble falling for leverage. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Was the last thing you said before you plunged into the chaos that was unravelling Nueva York from the inside out.

☆

The abrasion of concrete rubbing against your skin carved into your skin, until it didn’t. Dust threatened to enter your lungs as you weaved in and out of obstacles created from the fissures of collapsing high-rises, bodies clasping onto you like a lifeline– until that ended as soon as you started as well.

Everything made sense finally, and then it stopped. Paused as soon as it strengthened, disentangling memories and causing fragmentation.

Lips met yours, the firm grasp of palms against your hips. “Cariño, you don’t understand how much I’ve thought about my mouth on yours since we last met.” A familiar voice whispered into your ear, kneading into your flesh as each syllable rolled out lazily. But the warm breath fanning the side of your face never came, and the wisps of hair that met your forehead never tickled you.

The touch of an elevator button against your index ignited your senses, bags dragging down your tired form. The thud of knees meeting tile followed, before ending with sobs echoing in the corners of your mind.

Darkness enveloped your mind, the vibrancy of neon lights that grew so comforting never came.

Cold metal met your limbs, grazing your chest and the beeping of a scan met your ears. Orange hues painted the darkness for just a moment, before vanishing like a hallucination. Little bits and pieces of words would echo throughout the chamber you’ve found yourself in– “When do you think,” – “¡Mierda! Are you even doing your job correcting?!” – “Let me take over,” “You have no idea what you are even looking at, Miguel!” – “But you do?!”

It was like this for a while, until the words grew closer and the colors overlapping pitch black spread like webs.

The first thing you felt was a weight on your leg, thigh trapped under the pressure of something breathing and shifting ever so slightly. The covers lying atop your form was nothing close to the softness you were used to, instead the scratchy fabric brushed against your skin and the thin gown you felt as you twitched.

Your muscles ached, both out of stiffness and the strain of what you remember: the buildings collapsing around you, rubble piercing your skin. Your throat felt dry, the lights overhead intruded against your eyelids. The metal sensation from before, cold and icy, trailed along your arms as you woke.

Peeling your gaze open, your spider senses went into overdrive. It feels as if your body had sunken into the pit of an ocean, drowning and heavy with salt water flooding your pores.

The first to catch your eye was the spider-shaped robotic machinery tending to your wounds, scabbed and bandaged with care. Your fists curled into the bed you rested against; the smell of chemicals embedded within the fabric burned at your nostrils. The luminescence of the lamps on the bedside counter were dimmed low as your gaze adjusted to the sensory intake, breathing deeply in a way to calm yourself.

This place was nothing you’ve ever seen before, but with an abundance of spider-themed gadgetry adorned along the wall and medical systems– alongside the hyper-technologically advanced computer interfaces connected to the tubed legs of the metallic spiders accessing the wounds you had, you assumed it must have been the Spider Society HQ you’ve heard in passing. The building above the greenery beyond Nueva York, a vision you were only able to get glimpses from riding the train.

Holding your breath, you looked at the weight atop your thigh.

A tuft of combed-back brown curls met your stare before tracing the few strands hanging delicately over his forehead. His eyes were fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. Deep stress lines you desperately wanted to thumb away rested in-between his brow, leading you to the circles under his closed eyes. Deep and prominent against olive skin, O’Hara was now in a slightly modified, upgraded version of his navy blue suit that had none of the previous damage from the battle you stumbled upon.

His head lay against your thighs heavily, breathing in your scent deeply as he dozed off. Every few snores, he’d stutter in his sleep as if he was about to shock himself awake– but he easily settled back in the softness of your muscle after his hand upon your stomach would grab the flesh of your stomach softly.

You took a moment to study him. There’s been a few times you’ve sighted him in the streets, usually his mask covering his identity always. This is the first time you’ve truly had him so close and the realization of it all made your palms sweat and your stomach churn. The usual quips and your homemade spider-mask could not save you now, you were in the den of a lion’s. He quite literally had you in his grasp.

The knowledge you had of this place was limited, not being a part of the Spider Society because you had to avoid him– and now that everything has been revealed in regards to both of your secrets you had no idea what to do from here. Not like you could do much right now though, your bones feel fragile and your muscles feel weak. How long have you been holed up in this cage?

A groan escaped O’Hara’s lips, a frown contorting his features. Under the spell of sleep, he looked much more soft. The rigidness of his stoicism couldn’t plague his expression as dreams consumed him, but as his frown deepened and the lines between his eyebrows became more prominent,, you couldn’t help but slide your hand underneath his. Squeezing it, his scarred fingers subconsciously intertwined with yours without a moment’s hesitation.

A smile bloomed onto your lips at the sight, your heart running a marathon at the closeness you were allowed. All the anger festered up from that night ebbed away with time and understanding– having the role as a Spiderperson since the split made you candidly comprehend the stress and dedication one has to have. With the experience, the hardness O’Hara had on himself and others suddenly made sense, and as the confusion cleared– love remained. The man within your reach finally, has always been in the corners of your mind, memories unearthed by every little thing in your life. You may have changed your route to work, but then you started to pass his favorite restaurant. You may have changed your body wash, but the scent of praline underlined the floral smell of ocean breeze.

He was always there, one way or another.

Silence enveloped the room, minus the soft beeping and the slight hiss that escaped you whenever one of the freaky looking medical spiders zapped skin back into place. Yet, as you sat there quietly while looking outside the window, tracing flying cars with your gaze or simply admiring the amount of green you’ve possibly ever seen before– a shaky voice met your rhythmic, soft breathing.

Your name was the first thing he said, disbelief lacing his tone before both his hands scooped up the clutch you held onto him with delicacy, like he was hiding away a treasure in the palm of his hands. “Can’t believe anything any of this–”

“How… how long was I out, O’Hara?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, fragile and meek. It made you feel pathetic– being able to save so many people in less than two minutes and suddenly you couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table to fiddle with a water bottle and a straw. He set the straw to your lips, grabbing your chin to take the straw.

He sighed, tutting like a worried mother hen. “Don’t use your voice so much, cisne. Drink.” It’s been so long since you’ve been waited on hand-and-foot that it almost made you annoyed, but you did what he said because you are bedridden after all. And in a way, it made you feel like he cared. The way O’Hara’s thumb swiped your lower lip when water trickled down your chin was calculated, as if he was trying to embed the feeling into his brain again.

“You had been slipping in-and-out of consciousness over the past week and a half.” He murmured, leaning into your space as your free hand patted on his chest to indicate you had enough water. A soft frown threatened at his lips, worry evident in his gaze.

Coughing from choking down so much water, the question tumbled from your mind without second-thinking. “And how long have you been here?” You felt your cheeks hearten due to the lack of filter, but a part of you really wanted to know.

Your embarrassment transferred to him as soon as the question hung into the hair, his gaze ripping away from your own. His frown wobbled at getting caught within the act, vulnerability showing through for once between the amount of time the two of you have shared. “I’ve..” Having an internal battle with himself, he exhaled with stress in defeat. “Been here since you got here.” Your eyes lit up, and he only groaned at your obvious excitement.

“You were worried.”

“I was– I was not worried– dios mío–”

You sat up further on the pillows behind you, pointing into his chest as he leaned further away in lighthearted mortification of finally having to talk about his feelings. “O’Hara! You were! You were worried!”

“If I admit it will you stop repeating yourself–”

“Yes,”

O’Hara’s brow furrowed as if he was in physical pain, leaning back into the chair he sat right beside your bed. His hands still stuck firming around your sweating ones, his head leaned back in exasperation. “I was worried. I am always worried about you. I was scared shitless sitting there on that ledge while you dived into the unknown.”

Breath stuttering, you held the air within your lungs for a long second. It felt like a dream, having the Miguel O’Hara hunched over with his hands around your own like a delicate doll, flushed and embarrassed because he finally has to admit his feelings. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, and if you had the strength to lean forward and do so, you would. But exhaustion was dwelled deep into your limbs, and you didn’t want to overexert yourself.

“And, and– stop calling me that. Jesus, it’s like hearing a teacher addressing me.”

This caught your attention as his scarlet eyes met yours, swirling with a flurry of emotions that screamed of intensity. “Calling you what?” You asked, trying to sound indifferent when truly you were just teasing him. But he was more than observant– and when he caught you trying to play him like you were a guitarist and he was your bass. This only riled him up more.

“O’Hara?! I’m Miguel to you, Miguel.” His hands tightened around your own as he repeated his name twice, almost like a plea. “Stop making me act like a child, I have a reputation to uphold–”

“You became O’Hara the day you broke up with me.” Low blow, and quite petty– but you wanted to test if he truly had changed.

The rant you cut off halted without another word, O’Hara’s forehead meeting your thigh as if you just slapped him atop the head when you knocked sense into him. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice choked up almost instantaneously, his emotions as high as ever like he just processed you were truly here and talking to him. “And look at where we ended up.” The latter didn’t sound like he was speaking to you, more like he was stuck in his head someplace far away. “Your safety was what mattered the most to me– and back then these people, these people threatened to remove you from here. Wipe you off the plane of this universe like you never even happened.”

You were silent as his hands kneaded into your thighs gently, fingertips trailing up your stomach like he was trying to remember every part of your body again unconsciously. “I didn’t want to lose you, and for the longest time I pushed it away as much as I could until I couldn’t anymore.”

Your brain clicked and churred, gears rolling back in place in your post-coma fog. “.. Is that why you were so stressed, so different throughout the end of our relationship?”

Miguel sighed heavily, tears threatening to fall as if an entire world was lifted off his shoulders. “.. Yes. Yes, I’m not proud of it. I’m really not proud of myself.” He repeated, confessing his sins like you were the pastor and he was a sinner. “I just was terrified for you to be gone.”

“.. I’m tired of having so much loss in my life.” It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

His shoulders raised, stammering as if he was holding himself back. Without a word, you shrugged your hand from his own. Scarlet gaze meeting yours in surprise, fangs on display unknowingly as his mouth slacked– your arms raised towards him and instantly he allowed himself to melt into your embrace.

“I didn’t know.” Was all you said.

“I didn’t want you to know,” He murmured against your cheek, breath fanning your ear and arms meeting your back strongly. Just like your dreams. Miguel’s words trailed off anxiously, before concluding with something you haven’t heard in a long time, “mi cielo.”

Tears soaked your shoulder sleeve, but you didn’t care. “But I want you to know everything now. I want you to be a part of my life now, we can get through it all–”

A small frown met your lips, heart clenching at his words. “I, I can’t–

“Mi pajarito, please,” Miguel breathed in deeply, “I really, really have missed you.” His hold surrounding you tightened subtly. The buzz of floating cars whizzed by as silence enveloped the both of you, the noise of watches sounding throughout the hallway kept you grounded. Drilled it into your head that this was truly happening, that you’re here with Miguel with both of your secrets unveiled. Under each other's protection.

“Miguel, I.. I can’t be hurt again.” You wanted him, wanted him more than anything. But something snatched your heart up and forced it into an aviary. It raged against the railings of its captor, fluttering with desperation. You were scared of rejection again, the repressed emotions flooding your senses and making you sob. Miguel held you as you cried and continued to do so, tracing shapes into your skin like all those months ago. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The plea escaped you through tears, Miguel promised and promised and promised as he swiped away the wetness amongst your cheeks, his cold exterior he kept affront during your relationship crashed down in waves as his own tears pressed into your skin. “I’m so sorry. Please, please like you gave me– give me a second chance.”

His fingers trailed up, grasping the nape of your neck while the other caressed your cheek with a shakiness you’ve never seen before. Always so confident, it reminded you of the brokenness you witnessed on the last night you were together. But this felt genuine, the looming fear and despair hanging over his head all those months ago were fanned away with time. This was Miguel’s honest attempt at vulnerability.

You stared into his tearful eyes, a smile playing at your lips as your hands sat upon his own holding your face. Leaning in, your nose brushed his as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips, chapped and cold, met his contrasting warm and refined touch. Miguel presumably did not care, as his fingers intertwined with your hair and grasped your chin with a sparked need. The kiss was short and sweet, as the two of you breathed into each other’s mouth. Relishing in the moment, you pushed forward again as desperation seeped into your rationality.

Your hands moved from his own to his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss and he just consumed whatever space you gave him. Miguel was aware of every muscle he pushed against you, but as the both of you clawed into each other’s flesh Miguel’s resolve to stay gentle ebbed away as his spit swapped with yours. It was if you were a struggling flower, and he was both the air and sun and water combined. He was everything you needed, and he was everything you wanted. To you, he was the sun and you were the moon– seeing one another in passing but never touching until today.

But to him, you were the stars that littered the sky. A comet passing by, beautiful and alluring. You were in each neon sign of Nueva York, where he stared a little too hard and could see a figure of you that was constructed from the little imagination he had left.

He saw you in the headquarters he overworked himself in to forget you. He saw you in the shadows of the city he protected. Miguel saw you in everything he believed in, yet everything he went against simultaneously.

But he’ll learn to make exceptions with himself and the rules he place, because as his fangs dig into your lower lip and the noise that erupts from your throat wraps him around your finger– Miguel tries to understand how he ever let you go.

“Miguel, you kiss me once and you’re already trying to bite me–” You begin to scold in your little way, until Miguel shushes you with another kiss to the lips.

“It’s all out of love, cariño.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara comfort #miguel o'hara angst #x gender neutral reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 #x angst #x comfort #comfort #angst

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strawberrystepmom · 8 months

Text

nsfw - mdni. f!reader, gojo and reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. they are skinny dipping!!!!!!!!! he’s a little mushy here ngl. wc 1142

“Have you ever skinny dipped before?”

Satoru’s question catches you off guard as you both watch the sunset over the horizon, your knees pressed to your chest while the gentle roar of the ocean drowns out any other sound you could possibly hear for miles.

Except for him, of course.

Turning your face to look at him, you raise a brow and make a show of absentmindedly brushing grains of sugary sand off of your thigh. He tilts his head and waits, surprisingly patient, but takes note of the way you chew your bottom lip with a half smile before finally answering.

“Have you?”

It’s not the retort he was expecting and you can tell immediately, his uncovered eyes widening as you unfold your legs and stretch them out in front of you.

“Of course. Tons of times.”

He’s lying but what else is he supposed to do?

You’re dressed in your yellow bikini - something stupid you dug out of the back of your dresser drawer for this trip just in case the two of you could find time to stop at the beach - and he watches as the strings tying the flimsy fabric sag after a day of being taut across your body.

If he untied them, he bets he’d feel indentations in your skin from the ties. Little patterns he could drape his fingers across, something only he’d get to see.

“Was it as magical as the movies make it look?”

Your voice makes him shift his gaze off of the crease where your thigh and hip meet and back up to your face, sunkissed and stunning even as night falls around the two of you. The beach is empty, almost surprisingly so, and part of you wonders if his question was an invitation rather than a stroke of curiosity.

He shrugs.

“Would’ve been more fun with better company.”

You snort, one of his favorite sounds, and he wonders who you think he has done it with. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for it to have been Shoko and Suguru at one point in his life. Maybe it was with someone you’ve never met, a mysterious stranger who was lucky enough to rove their eyes across each blue vein beneath his pale skin in the moonlight just like this.

“Like me?”

The question is loaded and you both know it, meeting the others’ gaze with equal parts amusement and uncertainty. Your face feels warmer than it did under the blazing midday sun when he looks down at you through his lashes and nods.

There’s something almost uncharacteristically shy about the way he looks right now. It’s hard enough to tell him no on any given day, it’s damn near impossible when he looks at you like that. You look around the beach to make sure it’s truly as empty as it looks and sounds.

Not a soul in sight besides him, the one who makes the stars seem less dazzling in comparison and the one you’re almost certain you’d give your heart to a hundred times over if he asked.

Without another thought, you shrug.

“I’ve already given you a few of my first times, what’s one more?”

A grin spreads across his face as you reach behind you rise to standing, brushing any excess sand off of your legs, and head toward the water’s edge. He waits back for a moment, watching your every step. He scrambles to run toward you when you look over your shoulder with a salacious half smile, your fingers making quick work of the knot at the base of your neck.

“Let me help you,” he offers while he bounds over, lithe and long fingers quickly handling the knot in the middle of your back. Your top flies off without a second thought and you don’t feel as embarrassed as you assumed before taking it off.

It’s exhilarating, even more so when you look up to see the faint dusting of pink across Gojo’s nose and cheeks. Your hands move next to your bottoms and you watch his every glance while you untie one side and then the other, fabric fluttering to the sand below.

Stepping closer to the water, you dip your toe into the waves and yelp at the coolness. It doesn’t stop you from continuing, walking until the water is to your knees and your thighs and eventually covering your hips. He gapes from the shoreline and you pout, almost too far out for him to tell but close enough he knows exactly what you’re about to say.

“Come on, Satoru. You’ve never been shy before.”

The words are what have him reaching for the waistband of his trunks, pulling them down over his muscled thighs and your breath catches seeing him just as you imagined he’d look in this moment.

Otherworldly. Ethereal. Glowing, even. He rivals the stars, the moon, the men you used to dream about after sneaking into your mom’s romance book stash.

If you weren’t so eager to get one up on him tonight with his flustered state you’d say those things aloud but instead you let him wonder. You watch him enter the water until it’s knee deep, thigh deep, hip deep, and you let him come to you and scoop you up in the water.

You little siren, he thinks. It has to be true, water sparkling across your shoulders and arms like gems.

Gathered in his arms, bare chest pressed to bare chest as you situate your legs around his waist, you giggle and crane your neck to kiss his cheek.

“I know you’ve never done this before,” you tease and he grumbles under his breath that he’s been caught. You simply giggle and kiss him again, your lips finding his own quickly while his arms wrap around your torso.

“How’d you know?”

Shrugging, you smile.

“Good intuition, what can I say?”

He smirks and without warning, he walks the two of you deeper into the water until it covers your chest and half of his torso, his eyes heavily lidded as they look down at you.

He’s a vision.

You love him so much it’s almost painful and you have to look away, enjoying the view of the glistening moon across the surface of the water in the distance.

“For what it’s worth,” he captures your attention again and you smile while letting your hands dangle off of his shoulders. “I’m glad this is my first time.”

He dips his head and kisses you again, his lips salty from the gentle sea breeze. You memorize the taste knowing it’ll become synonymous with this night, with him, with the way he shines brighter than the moon.

“Good enough company?”

Your tone is teasing and you reach up the back of his neck to absentmindedly play with the hair growing at the base of it.

“The best I could ever ask for.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #satoken

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cherienymphe · 2 months

Note

Do you have any tips on studying the art of seduction or tapping into your sensuality as a woman? Books, movies, anything helps!

Rare topic of conversation alert but-

Forget men entirely. Tapping into your sensuality as a woman has nothing to do with men and everything to do with you and your love for yourself.

Date yourself. Court yourself. Move through life like you are in a relationship with you (because you are) and act accordingly. Treat yourself with care. Nourish your hair and skin and invest time + energy into making your mind and body feel good. Epsom salt baths, dancing, body oils, hair oils, buying yourself flowers, taking yourself on dates, meditation.

You can't be sensual if you're ignorant of and afraid of your own body. Familiarize yourself with it (stand naked in the mirror a lot, touch yourself non sexually a lot, study your own body a lot). You have to love your body and feel comfortable in your natural form. You have to feel confident and good both in and out of clothes.

That last part can intertwine with sexuality too. It's important to know what you like and what makes you feel good. It's healthy. Experimenting with self pleasure can help you learn a lot of things about yourself, some of them even non sexual.

Sensual means physically pleasing and it's related to the 5 senses, and taking the time to really indulge in those 5 senses will help you. We all know that things that are pleasing to the ear can have the power to relax us or turn us on, so listen to things that get your blood moving and make you feel warm. It could be asmr, it could be binaural beats, it could be a creator who reads stories and poems. I personally love to listen to Tom Hiddleston read poetry and short stories. He has a voice that is very audibly pleasing to me. Buy and wear scents that lift your mood, watch media or look at art that stirs up intense feelings. Indulge in touching things and things that feel good on your skin. Sleep naked, sit in the grass, walk on sand. Eat things that are very flavorful and juicy and messy lol. If you drink wine, I'd actually encourage you to research what kind of wine is best to drink with certain foods that really make flavors pop. Play music around the house, light scented candles or wax melts, give yourself massages. Just really indulge and take advantage of all of the senses that you can.

Look up sumrandomchick, zitacherry, and Anastasiamoongirl on tiktok

Movies/TV: kama sutra a tale of love, dangerous beauty (1998), The Borgias (Giulia Farnese and Lucrezia in particular), The Woman King, Moulin Rouge, Margarita With a Straw, The Handmaiden, She's Gotta Have It (2017), Belle de Jour (1967), Poor Things (I have yet to see this one but I have heard praises on its exploration of female sexuality). I personally don't want to recommend Memoirs Of A Geisha due to its wildly awful inaccuracies (so much so that the woman it's loosely based off of tried to sue the author I'm sure), however, if you take it with a grain of salt and have good discernment, there can be gems found in it.

#asks

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7s3ven · 3 months

Text

ATHENA’S GIRL. luke (pjo) / pt 2

trailer > part 1 > part 2

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Chaos endures on the trio’s trip to Camp Half-Blood and Luke learns that Y/N isn’t as tough as she projects herself to be. Upon finally arriving at camp, Y/N is met with a pleasant surprise when Athena claims her on the spot.

“Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you. I see you changing from how I've designed you. Have you forgotten your purpose?"

Warning : LONG chapter

—

Athena had one goal in life; to create a dazzling warrior who would be worthy of calling themselves her golden child. She moulded her kids into the people she wanted them to be but they often strayed from her ideals, only disappointing her. Perhaps her biggest success in life was designing Y/N.

She was such a brilliantly bright teenager with a natural knack for fighting, using her prior learnt skills from numerous sports classes (all compulsory at her school). Athena liked to call Y/N her pride and joy. Or, she would’ve if she didn’t notice the fondness forming between Y/N and a certain Hermes son.

Y/N lay asleep on the train, resting her head in a pillow she had found in one of the compartments. Luke and Chris sat across from her, impatiently tapping their feet.

“Psst.” Luke whispered, nudging his friend, “You wanna check out the food cart?” Chris turned to stare at Luke, slight frowning.

“She told us to stick together.” He muttered back, gesturing over to Y/N who was quietly murmuring in her sleep.

“She’ll be fine. We’ll be quick anyway. By the time she wakes up, we’ll be back.” Luke reassured Chris, ushering him towards the door. The two Hermes boys silently shuffled out of the small room and walked down the hallway, following the smell of food.

Y/N turned on her side, resting her head against the back of the plush seat. She groaned, half conscious yet still half asleep. Everything was a blurred daze as she slipped back into an unconscious state, ending up in a barren desert.

The H/C-haired girl looked around, confused and a little shaken. She quickly pinched her arm and winced when she felt a twinge of pain. “Where am I?” She whispered to herself, yet her voice echoed.

The sand beneath her feet rumbled and twirled around her, forming a hurricane. Y/N panted in panic as grains of debris threatened to hit her eyes. She turned her head to shield her face until the sand finally dropped to the ground again, revealing a beautiful and grand hall.

The walls were pure white with delicate golden details. If Y/N didn’t know any better, she’d think this was what first class would have looked on the Titanic ship. Or what was portrayed in the movies, at least.

“Do you like it, my dear?”

Y/N spun around at the sound of a silky, feminine voice. A tall woman sat on a marble carved throne, resting her elbows on the sides. She smiled at Y/N. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly looking, and her brown eyes held warmth within them. She brushed a lock of long, shiny raven hair aside.

“I know how much you wanted to see the inside of the Titanic.” She spoke again, crossing one leg over the other. “Come closer, don’t be shy, my love.” She beckoned Y/N forward.

The H/C-nette slowly stepped towards the goddess. “Who… are you?” She asked when she finally stood not a meter away.

“I’m your mother, dear.”

The more Y/N looked at the woman, the more she saw their similarities. Although Y/N’s hair wasn’t as glossy as her’s, their sharp facial features still held the same stony gaze and their heights reflected one another.

“Why am I here?” Y/N carefully asked, her eyes darting around to stare the crystal chandelier.

“I’ve been watching you, my love. You’re a wonderfully talented girl gifted with such academic skill.” The deity let a small laugh slip past her red lips, “But I must warn you, do be careful on what you choose in life. Not everything is as it seems.”

Y/N sent her mother a confused look. She could decode complicated English written in her beloved books but she couldn’t understand what the goddess was telling her.

“You are still a young girl, Y/N.” Finally, Athena rose. She stood before Y/N in all her beautiful glory. “I understand that the topic of love may plague your mind and hide your true goals from you. But is it worth choosing a boy over high education and your academic studies?”

Y/N was slowly piecing everything together. “Is this…” She spoke softly as she trailed off, “Is this about Luke? Because I don’t like him. Not at all.”

“I didn’t mention a name, dear. You came up with that one on your own. Don’t let a boy cloud your judgment, especially not a Hermes son. They are as tricky as they are mischievous.”

Athena pulled Y/N into a sudden hug that seemed a little too tight to be friendly. Y/N struggled to breathe while Athena rested her chin on her daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t forget the lessons I’ve taught you.” She whispered, “I designed you to be perfect and I’ll be damned if I let a Hermes boy of all people ruin my greatest achievement.”

She spoke so gently but there was a dark edge to her voice; a twisted and wicked side to her beauty that Y/N had failed to notice before. “If you ever forget your purpose, I’ll be sure to remind you.”

Her voice faded as Y/N’s dream began to disappear. Her surroundings floated away like watercolour paint bleeding into thick paper until Y/N found herself sprawled on the couch and Luke and Chris nowhere to be seen.

She groaned as she sat up, her groggy eyes stinging from the bright sun. “Ugh, where did they go?” She muttered to herself as she peeked through the door. She yelped when something suddenly crashed. The floor shook and the train came to an abrupt halt.

“Attention passengers, we seem to be having a few problems with the engine. It’ll be up and running again in at least an hour.” The conductor chimed through the speaker.

Y/N cautiously opened the door, coming face to face with Luke. She frowned as she pulled the pair of demigods inside. “You can’t sneak off like that!” She hissed, “We’re not in vacation, you know that, right?”

“Relax, writer. We were just getting by food.” Luke handed her a squished sandwich, “Besides, I don’t think there’s any monsters on this train.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be close to catching up. We have to keep moving.” Y/N locked the door and closed the blinds, concealing what she was about to do next. She picked up her spear, which seemed to take the form of a weapon at the most convenient times, and smashed it into the window.

The plastic glass broke away in shards, falling to the ground. Luke and Chris gaped at her. “Let’s go.” She demanded, picking up all her stuff.

“Remind me never to mess with her.” Chris mumbled to Luke as they jumped out the window. They stayed low but everybody on the train was too busy gossiping about the engine to notice a trio of teens run into a forest.

“It feels like we’re walking in circles.” Luke groaned while Y/N huffed in annoyance.

“That’s because you are. You’ve been walking around that tree stump for the past ten minutes.” She snapped. The group had sat down to rest and Luke took it as his chance to get on Y/N’s nerves again. He chuckled.

"Camp shouldn't be too far." Chris said, looking around. Though, he wasn't too sure. He was merely saying that to calm Y/N's nerves.

"We should keep moving. Better safe than sorry." Y/N stood up, forcing Luke to finally stop circling around the stump.

"But I'm so tired." Luke complained, whining like a man child.

"Well, I guess you'll have to accept being a dragon's snack then." Y/N snapped, furrowing her brows in frustration. Luke and Chris shared a look.

"She's in charge." Chris exclaimed, not wanting to be the tiebreaker. Luke groaned but begrudgingly followed after Y/N.

“As long as we follow the train tracks, we should be fine.” Y/N piped up.

“That’s going to be hard then.” Luke pointed up ahead where the tracks mysteriously disappeared. All that was left was a singular stick of wood. “The monsters are becoming smarter.”

As if on a cue, a shrill laugh cut through the tense forest. Y/N’s head darted up to see a woman with large, eagle-like wings. Her sharp eyes landed on Y/N first. “Just who I’ve been looking for.” She uttered with a piercing voice. She dove below the trees, outstretching a clawed hand to grasp Y/N. Luke quickly stepped in front, swinging his sword at the harpy.

“Give me the girl and I’ll let you be on your way.” The harpy chittered, clumsily landing and circling around Y/N. Luke followed the actions of the monster, narrowing his eyes.

“Why her? If anything, I’m the most valuable member here.” Luke quickly replied. On the sidelines, Chris brandished his sharp sword, watching the harpy carefully.

“Oh, you don’t know what you have in your possession, my dear boy. She’s not merely a girl. She’s valuable.” An unsettled grin pulled at the harpy’s lips. “Just give her to me and I’ll”- The creature was cut off by Chris slicing one of her wings. Luke leapt forward as well, expertly cutting her in places he knew wouldn’t kill her solely to torture her.

“I’m finishing my quest so unfortunately, I can’t give you her.” Luke spat as the harpy tried to dodge his swift attacks.

“What if I told you Hermes would finally see you again?” Her words made Luke freeze. He stared at her in shock, lips parted like he wanted to say something.

Chris was shoving everything into his bag, getting ready to make a run for it as soon as Luke was snapped out of his trance. He grabbed Y/N. “We have to go.” He said but Y/N was stubborn.

“You want me?” She asked, stepping forward with only her glowing spear in hand. The harpy’s eyes flickered to her and she harshly pushed Luke aside.

“Your confidence will be your undoing, girl.” The harpy hissed. “Can you even use that weapon?”

Y/N mockingly shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, I took down a dragon but maybe that was a lucky shot.” The harpy wasn’t able to react before the spear stabbed through her stomach. Realising she had made a terrible mistake of underestimating Y/N, all the monster could do was scream as she faded away.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked Luke, who was still kneeled on the floor.

He scoffed. “I’m fine. I didn’t need you to save me.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief, “What? I was trying to help!”

“Yeah? Well, stop showing off. For the record, I’m easily capable of taking down a dragon and harpy too. You aren’t special.” Luke glared into Y/N’s eyes and she returned his harsh gaze, “Don’t let your arrogance cloud your mind.” The Hermes boy was so close that Y/N could smell his fading cologne.

She was the first to look away in annoyance. “I never said you couldn’t slay those monsters.”

“Yeah, well you thought it then!” Luke exclaimed as Y/N walked off, getting a head start.

“Dude.” Chris finally spoke, “I thought you were like a chick magnet.”

“I believe in being nice to women but her even breathing air annoys me.” Luke grumbled before he jogged after Y/N.

“Haven’t we already passed that rock?” Y/N questioned after an hour of walking.

“I’ve never seen that rock in my life.” Luke snapped back. Somewhere along the dull trip, he had gotten to the front and was now leading the group.

“We passed it on the train.” Y/N uttered as Luke’s gaze began to wander and landed on a nearby building. “And if the train passed it, then that means”- Luke cut Y/N off.

“We’re going the wrong way.” Luke finished. Y/N took a deep breath to calm her agitation. “The harpy must’ve been sent to confuse us.” Luke quickly turned to Y/N.

“You went the wrong way!” They shouted in unison, pointing and pinning the blame on each other. Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t blame me!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

“This is your fault! You walked off first!”

“And you kept walking! You idiot!”

“Don’t call me an idiot! You… you… manipulative, psycho bitch!”

“Are you sure you’re yelling that at the right person?!”

“No! I got it off Gossip Girl! Percy watches it!”

“Who is Percy?!”

Chris pushed his way between Y/N and Luke, shoving them apart. “Guys! It’s only an hour setback! We can get back on the train!”

“The train tracks are missing, genius!” Y/N turned on him.

“We’ll take another train.” Chris replied.

“The next train is in an hour!” Luke added.

“You guys fight and back each other up like a married couple! Make up your mind!” When Chris was getting frustrated now. Y/N groaned to blow off some steam.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” She said once she calmed down, “We’re going to catch the next train and we stay low until it arrives. Once we’re on the train, we go to our compartment as quickly as possible and we don’t leave until the train stops. Got it?” Y/N sternly stared at the two boys. They silently nodded.

“Don’t make eye contact with anyone.” Y/N warned, fiddling with the tickets.

“You’re going to rip them. Give them here.” Luke snatched the tickets from her, safely shoving it into his pocket.

“So, what about food?” Chris questioned, “We have to eat something on the train.”

“I preordered our meals. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“And you didn’t ask us? What if we don’t like it?” It seemed like Luke’s goal in life was to frustrate Y/N. And it worked every time.

“Train food is better than plane food.” She grumbled, “If you don’t like it then suck it up, you big baby. Nobody cares about your opinion.”

“You wound me, writer.” Luke quietly chuckled to himself, clasping his hands together.

“Train’s in forty minutes. We shouldn’t be out in the open.” Y/N dragged the two boys back into the shade, away from the burning sun. “We wait here. Don’t move.” Luke tried to walk off but Y/N was quick to grab him.

“What if we need to go to the bathroom?”

“Then be quick. Obviously I’m not going to follow you into the bathroom.” Y/N exhaled in agitation before grabbing her bag, pulling out a book.

“Is this really a good time to read, writer?” Luke asked, peeking over her shoulder. Y/N didn’t reply, which only provoked Luke to annoy her further. Chris was wildly shaking his head but the brunette swordsman only grinned.

“Hey, writer.” He poked her, “Moby Dick is a stupid author.”

Finally, Y/N looked at him again, giving Luke the attention he so desperately craved. “Moby Dick was the whale. The author was Herman Melville.” Luke’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment but he tried to sheepishly play his mistake off.

“I know. I was just tryna get your attention.”

Y/N turned back to her book, silently flipping the page. Chris held back muffled laughs and Luke subtly flipped him off.

The minutes passed like slow hours and eventually, Chris walked off to find a bathroom. Luke was left sitting next to Y/N, his knee bumping her’s occasionally. He clicked his tongue to a random quiet beat to entertain himself.

“Stop that.” Y/N demanded.

“Stop what? I ain’t doing anything, writer.” Luke innocently played it off.

“Stop existing!”

“Woah, I don’t wanna kill myself. Otherwise the girls at camp would be doomed with my charming looks.”

“Yes, well they’d be fine without your so-called wits. You thought Moby Dick was the author. Ha! A whale writing. That’d be something, Castellan.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

“You’re really mean, do you know that?”

“And you’re insufferable. Though, I doubt you know what that word means. It means annoying.”

“I’m not dumb, writer.”

“Moby Dick was a whale.” Y/N tauntingly reminded him with a pointed look which had Luke’s cheeks turning red once more.

“Stop bringing up the whale!” Luke exclaimed, groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/N looked away, victoriously smirking.

“The train is ahead of time.” Chris uttered as soon as he returned from the bathroom, “It’ll be here in ten minutes. Let’s get ready to board.”

As Y/N stood on the platform, letting the scorching sun beat down on her, she could feel a pair of eyes stare daggers into her back. She slowly turned her head, locking eyes with a tall Russian man. Almost too tall to be human. He grinned at her, showing off his sharp and pointed teeth.

Luke took notice of the slender man as well. “They know we’re here.” He whispered, subconsciously stepping forward to block Y/N from the man’s view.

“Are we sure he’s a monster or just a little creepy looking?” Chris butted in.

“Let’s get into our compartment as soon as possible. I booked one near the end so it’d be easier for us to get out if anything goes wrong.” Y/N muttered as she stepped onto the steel stairs. She handed the conductor her ticket and he examined it before letting her pass.

“This one.” She mumbled to the two boys. She shoved the door open and once all of them were tucked safely inside, she slammed it shut and locked it.

Luke and Chris watched in confusion as she searched the wall for something they couldn’t see. “What are you doing?” Luke questioned, a little confused.

“Compartments like these often have a door leading to the next one.” Y/N exclaimed, “These doors are able to be locked and unlocked but I don’t doubt a monster’s ability on being able to acquire a key. Oh, and close the curtains, will you?”

Chris was quick to do as Y/N said, grasping onto the velvet fabric and yanking it to conceal the window.

“You seem to know what you’re doing. Are you sure you haven’t run away before?” Luke said that in a joking tone but Y/N’s frantic actions to find the lock paused.

“I… uh… tried running away when I was ten. The orphanage wasn’t exactly the best place to live. But after spending what little savings I had, I returned because there was nowhere else I could go.” Y/N cleared her throat and shook her head. “But that’s in the past. I don’t regret it because I was able to see parts of the world that nobody in the orphanage could. And it was beautiful.”

“So how’d you end up in that private school?” Luke pressed on further.

“The school has a deal with the orphanage. Every year, one child is picked to study at the school. It’s like a scholarship, if you will. All costs, even lunch, are covered. And I knew I wanted out because I couldn’t stand being in a cramped room any longer. So I worked harder than everybody else and I studied overtime because I don’t accept defeat. I get what I want and that scholarship was no different.”

Luke let out a low whistle. “Impressive, writer. But I didn’t expect anything less from you.”

“I found the lock.” Y/N announced, “Do either of you have a key or a pocket knife or anything I can jam in there?” Luke handed Y/N a small pocket knife and she slightly smiled before harshly shoving the blade into the lock. “That’ll hold it.”

She collapsed on a squeaky mattress, her legs dangling off the bed. Luke could hear the faint sound of her back clicking.

“How long will this train take?” He asked as he sat down across from Y/N. Chris had already dozed off, sleep-deprived and exhausted. Y/N subtly shrugged.

“Maybe a day? I want to get off as soon as possible because that man creeped me out. Check the other wall, will you?”

Luke had no choice but to stand again and search the smooth barrier for a lock, running his hands over the wall and furrowing his eyebrows.

“Nothing.” He concluded. Y/N hummed, seemingly pleased.

“Meals will be delivered to us. In the mean time, avoid making interaction with anyone.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Luke hesitated for a moment before he spoke again.

“So… why’d you run away?” Luke was met with silence before he heard Y/N quietly sigh.

“The orphanage didn’t treat us as humans but rather as pests they had to get rid of. They were so happy to see me go to school because it meant they had to spend less time on keeping me in line. I was… a troubled kid. Now I know why. It’s the godly blood, isn’t it?” Y/N cracked open one eye to look at Luke, who nodded.

“You didn’t regret running away?” Luke questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He heard Y/N lightly laugh.

“I’ll never regret it because those were the best weeks of my life. I met people I had never seen before and I found comfort in knowing I’d never see them again. There was one girl who was like me, troubled and a little angry. We became best friends for the few nights we spent together until she had to move on.”

“What was she like?”

“Beautiful… and dangerous. She enjoyed starting fights. She was a little younger than me… with brown curled hair and pretty hazel eyes. Her name was…” Y/N trailed off, “Oh… well, I don’t remember now. That’s a shame.”

“Clarisse.” Luke piped up, “That was her name, right? Clarisse?”

Y/N stared at him with her lips parted. “Yes… that was her name. How do you know her?”

“She’s a demigod too. A daughter of Ares. She’s actually at camp as we speak, waiting for new kids to arrive so she can torment them.” Luke chuckled, turning his gaze to stare at the floor.

“You know, you aren’t as mean as you try to be.” He uttered after a full minute of awkward silence. Y/N’s eyes darted to look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “I’ve met girls like you, writer. Girls who do everything to block people out because they don’t see themselves as someone a person could ever like. Those types of girls suffer a lot… don’t be like them, writer. Bring down your walls for even just a few hours.”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply but a shrill scream interrupted her.

“Hey! What happened to the rule of no one leaving?!” Luke shouted as Y/N rushed to the door.

“That doesn’t apply to this situation!” Y/N loudly retorted. Luke spared Chris a glance before he darted after the H/C-haired girl. She was already kneeled beside a woman, frantically shaking her and checking her pulse.

“What happened?” One of the train workers rushed over to see the commotion, his face paling at the sight of the woman’s blood staining the lush carpet below.

“She screamed and ran out of her cabin.” An onlooker explained.

“No pulse… she’s already dead.” Y/N whispered.

“Everyone, to your compartments. Do not move until we give the all clear!” The worker yelled, blowing his whistle harshly. Y/N fumbled around with something in the body’s pocket and Luke was quick to drag her away.

“Someone killed her, Castellan… a swift stab to her chest. Was it a monster?” Y/N breathed as Luke led her to a quiet corner. He shook his head.

“Monsters shouldn’t affect mortals. The mist covers them. This might be actually murder.”

Y/N shuddered. “Warn Chris.” She demanded while Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you going to do?” He questioned.

“I’m going to search for evidence.” Y/N up a large stolen key, “I wasn’t up until three in the morning solving true crime stories for nothing.”

•

Y/N carefully slipped into the woman’s cabin, her eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary. She crouched down, looking underneath the messy bed. Below the rickety wooden frame lay a single pipette. Y/N reached out her arm, grasping onto it.

“Why would someone need this? Unless this lady was an arts and craft kind of person.” Everywhere Y/N looked, all she found were scraps of paper and an occasional book. “Oh, you deserved to be stabbed for reading this. What a monstrosity.”

Y/N wrinkled up her face as she pulled out a copy of Lolita. She threw it aside but a quiet clang caught her attention. A small brooch had fallen out of the novel and rolled across the floor, hitting Y/N’s shoe.

She crouched down and examined it, running her thumb over the letter H that was engraved in the rusty metal.

“What was this woman’s name?” Y/N grabbed the bags, looking for any kind of name. “Mia… not starting with H. This was left behind… and this pipette… it’s used for cleaning smoking pipes but I see nothing. She wasn’t a smoker.” Y/N shoved the two items into her pocket and quickly exited the compartment, coming face to face with the unusually tall man from before.

“It’s not safe to be lurking around.” He grinned, which gave Y/N no comfort.

“I was just leaving.” She muttered, letting him brush past her. He tipped his hat.

“As you were, miss.” He slinked away and something white fell out of his pocket. Y/N was quick to rush over and pick it up. “A pipette…” The man didn’t smell like the strong scent of tobacco that always seemed to trail after smokers. Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“Where have you been?” Luke stood in front of the door like an angry mom waiting for her kid to arrive home. “The workers called a mandatory meeting. They didn’t know you were missing, luckily.”

“Was there anyone who smoked a pipe?” Y/N asked, ignoring Luke’s previous statement.

“Uh, yeah. A male doctor. Why?”

“Did you get his name?” Y/N was relentless with her inquires.

“The worker called the doctor Harvard Armstrong.”

“Harvard? Like the university? Who names their kid that? That’s just sad.” Y/N scoffed her herself. “But it works.”

“What works?” Luke was sick of being left out of whatever Y/N was planning. He could practically see the cogs turning in her head.

“I found these in the woman’s cabin. Her name’s Mia.” Y/N threw her sad evidence onto her bed, “A brooch with an H on it and a pipette. This pipette is specifically for cleaning pipe cigarettes and Harvard and H match up.”

Chris lifted his brows. “Are we seriously solving this murder crime right now?”

Y/N tuned out his words. “There’s not many people who use a pipe these days. It’s rare to come across. And it was a stupid clue to leave, even under a bed. Is it safe to walk around the train?”

“Yes, but it isn’t advised- Woah, where are you going?!” Luke grabbed Y/N’s arm before she could walk away again. “Look, you may be half god but you’re also half human. You can die just as easily! Don’t go off and risk your life for some Mia lady you didn’t even know!”

“Then come with me, Castellan. What’re you afraid of?” Y/N shoved him aside while Luke glanced at Chris for help.

“Just go, dude. I’ll lock the door. Knock three times when you come back.”

That’s how Luke ended up trailing after Y/N in the deserted corridor.

“I can assure you, Mister Norman, that we are doing everything in our power to catch the culprit.”

As Y/N walked around a corner, she spotted the same sharp-toothed man talking with another staff member.

“Bullshit.” Norman spat and scoffed.

“Are you sure you aren’t the culprit, Mister Norman?” Y/N spoke up. Luke glared at her, trying to shush her.

“Miss L/N, this is a private conversation.” The worker uttered, “You shouldn’t even be out.”

“You’re Russian, right?” Y/N stepped forward, much to Luke’s dismay. “H… I found it in a book written by a Russian author. Isn’t H in the Russian Alphabet pronounced as N? Harvard… Norman. That was a tricky one you left. And the pipette. Very cunning to try and blame someone else. But Harvard Armstrong, the man you tried accusing, was in the room next to us and he never left until after.”

“You’re a nosy girl.” Norman grumbled.

“Yeah… and I just don’t like your vibe altogether. This is your’s, right? Your next reaction will confirm it.” Y/N tossed the brooch high into the air and smiled as it neared the floor. Norman was quick to catch it, holding it close to his chest as if it were a sacred treasure.

Y/N winked, “Bingo.”

Norman quickly turned tail and tried to run but the train worker was faster, practically tackling him to the ground.

“You just solved a fucking murder crime in under an hour.” Luke said, astounded. “How did you know it was even him?"

“As I said, I didn’t like his vibe… and it was a gamble anyway. I took a lucky guess.”

•

“I can’t believe she solved a murder with only two pieces of evidence.” Chris whispered to Luke as they strolled through the woods towards camp.

“Again, I can hear you.” Y/N turned to glare at the boys, “I haven’t disappeared or suddenly gone deaf.”

“Dealing with a deaf you probably would’ve been easier.” Luke cheekily smiled as he spoke his mind.

“Ugh.” Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes. “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit on my face.” Luke mumbled but it was loud enough for the other two to hear.

Chris choked on air while Y/N spun around bewilderment. "What?" She seethed in shock. Luke battered his lashes like he had done no wrong.

"What? I didn't say anything." He played along, much to Y/N's annoyance.

"You weirdo." She muttered, "How far is camp? It's getting dark and I don't really want to be a harpy's midnight snack."

Chris pointed at a tree on top of a hill that stood not too far away. “At least two more minutes.” He said. Y/N was relieved to finally step past the tree and into the temporary shade it gave her.

“It seems people are already waiting for you.” Luke mumbled under his breath as he spotted the small crowd of demigods standing behind Chiron, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl the oracle wanted Luke and Chris to retrieve.

“She doesn’t look like anything special.” A pretty blond with glossy lips whispered to the equally stunning group surrounding her.

A golden haze began to form the moment Y/N paused in front of Chiron. The golden mist swirled like the sand in Y/N’s dream, forming a majestic looking owl that loudly cooed and flew high into the sky. It dived back down, exploding into golden glitter that rained down on Y/N like heavy pieces of hail.

“Welcome Y/N, daughter of Athena, to Camp Half-Blood.”

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leonsbunny · 5 months

Text

Best Friend

( Re2r!Leon Kennedy x gn!reader || reading together )

A word to describe your home to Leon was warm. It was always warm at your house, even on cold summer nights. It made him feel warm. Warm in his chest, in his face. Though he tried not to show it. Not in front of you.

Leon was at your house so often that he even had his own personal cushion to sit on. His own cup, his own little nook to wait in while you got ready for the day out together.

Though today was different, today you both agreed on reading those books you had laying around for once. Those books with the cloth covers with lacquered gold lettering, getting them for the “aesthetic” and not the practicality of actually reading them like you promised.

You casually lie your head on his shoulder as you read, Leon tenses up his eyes glued to the page of some book you picked out for him. The title didn't matter to him. It mattered that you picked it out for him. He wanted to make you happy, make you proud of him. Feeling Leon tense up against you made you look up at him. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth in his chest against your cheek. “Hm? What's wrong, Scotty?” You smile as you say the nickname. God. That nickname. He absolutely hated it, it was so cheesy, but he'd put up with it with you. You were his best friend, you had the pass to call him that. Scotty.

No words leave his lips, yet he mouthed them. The blond gave you a somewhat delayed nervous smile. A shy, reassuring grin to tell you that he was okay. “Ah it's nothing. Don't worry uh…” He tries to think of a nickname for you, something, anything to call you, but he can't. He sighs softly, breath coming from his parted lips as easily as his name slips through your own. “Do you think we'd be best friends in every universe?” He decides to say, looking to his side at you. Leon closes his book, waiting for your answer as it lays in his lap. He almost leans over, towering over you as you lay on your side.

“Course we'd be best friends in every universe.” You reply without thinking. “If you were a bug on a leaf, I'd be a bug on a leaf. If you were a cowboy, I'd be your right-hand man.” You add, chuckling. “That's a silly question, Leon. Course we'd be best friends. No matter what.”

Leon frowns out of embarrassment. The way you replied made him feel dumb. He didn't know why. Course you and him would be best friends. No matter what.

If you were the beach, he'd be a grain of sand. If you were a cat, he'd be one too. All that mattered to him was that you were there with him. You were his comfort. A comfort he was too scared to admit himself.

All this thinking makes his head feel mushy. Mushy and warm. In your room, no less.

“Ah of course we'd be friends no matter what. I'm really glad we are.” he smiles, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. “I'm just making sure, that's all.” He says, placing his book on the floor next to him.

His eyes drift, from your face to the floor. The faint fairy lights draped on the walls make this all the more soft to him, Leon thought. He was going to pour his feelings out to you. At this moment. Not all of them. He wasn't ready to admit them all. Not yet.

The soft lights above you illuminate his face, and he looks down at you, his blues soften. "You know, I'm glad I met you. I don't know if I'd be the person I am today without you.”

His words were a confession to you. A confession of love for you. Leon didn't think you'd realize that this was his way of admitting he loved you. Without even saying those three words. Without a big reveal, with flowers and all that lovey dovey stuff he saw in movies. He wasn't ready for that.

He looks back down at you, waiting for your answer. Your reaction. “Aw…Leon..” You softened up against him, Leon was a bit glad you didn't call him Scotty this time. That'd ruin the moment, he thought.

“I'm glad too.” You bring him down with you into a hug, which makes his eyes widen. He didn't expect you to react this way. Pulling him into a hug was the least of his worries.

You hug Leon close to your heart. Leon could feel your heartbeat. “I'm really, really glad we're friends.” You say softly, your arms wrap around his frame. “You're the reason I get up in the morning sometimes, you know that?” You tell him, though Leon couldn't see your face because of the way you hugged him, he could tell you were smiling as you spoke. As if he was someone you were proud of. You were. You were proud of him.

#re2r leon #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #re2 leon x reader #<3 #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #!!!

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