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sukirichi · 3 years

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earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch @riri-marley | bolded users cannot be tagged

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kornflake82 · 4 years

Note

I already get a good vibe from your profile oh my god- could I have narancia trying to tell his crush he likes her thank you ❤

hello! thank you so much, i’m so happy that I've passed the vibe check!! here's some orange juice for you! i based this off the song bombastic love by britney spears, so read the lyrics or give it a listen!

bombastic love . (narancia confessing to a fem crush)

narancia was always a late sleeper, usually the last of bucciarati’s gang to dredge his way out of the bedroom while still wiping the sleep from his eyes. when he started waking up later and later, though his dedicated capo started to worry.

“narancia--” bruno set a firm hand on his shoulder, causing the shorter man to jump before facing his superior. “b-bruno! is something wrong?” he asked, doing his best to sound alert and awake, despite having barely woken up but a few minutes prior. “narancia, i know you like to sleep, but you’re mistaken if you don’t think i haven’t noticed you waking up later each day. i’m sure you--”

“bruno, it’s okay, i’ve just, uh, been heading to bed a little late these days. and i know, i know, go to bed sooner. don’t worry, bruno! i’ll be up and at ‘em tomorrow for sure.” narancia interrupted, not giving bucciarati the slightest chance to lecture him for something he just wouldn’t understand. bruno furrowed his brow, giving narancia a warning glare before walking off with a sigh.

no, of course he doesn’t understand, because bruno’s not the one seeing visions of you taking his hand while lying under the stars in his sleep, no. bruno’s not the one dreaming of you cupping his cheeks before going in for a kiss, whispering sweet nothings he would do his damndest to remember throughout the day. of course he doesn’t understand, so narancia gave him the most half-assed excuse he could understand--get off my back.

when it came to you, narancia had only thought of you as a friend, a damn good one at that. you two had amazing chemistry on the battlefront; it was almost as if your stands were tied to each other by the red string of fate. he wasn’t the only one who took notice of that of course. hell, even bruno would be impressed by how well the two of you worked together which is why he started partnering you up on missions more and more. narancia hadn’t really realized, though, that the more time he spent with you--learning about your favorite color all the way to how you ended up alongside him in passione--he developed feelings for you. he simply brushed it off as the fact that since he worked with you the most, you became his closest confidant.

his subconscious was desperately trying to get a hold of him, trying to make him realize not to compromise his true feelings, the fact that he and you should be--

“nara!!” you eagerly bounded up to him, greeting him with the bright smile he loved so much. “o-oh, y/n! what are you up to?” the faint blush on his cheeks deepened the longer he looked at you. your voice lingered in his head, and for the first time since meeting you, narancia felt nervous around you. why? why now?

“up to finding you, sleepyhead! i just got this from bucciarati-” you waved a manila folder in front of him which ended up snapping him back from his thoughts--all of you, of course. “oh! what’s this?” you gave him an exasperated look as you landed a playful punch to his chest. “all that sleeping is turning your brain to mush, nara. what else do you think it is?” you waved the folder around again, this time a little too wildly, and its contents fell to the floor with an almost inaudible thump. instinctively, both you and narancia dove for the papers; however, when both of your hands met, he mindlessly entangled his digits with your own smaller ones. “n-nara, it’s okay, i got it--”

“OH, Y/N, I,” he coughed, trying to calm the rising panic in his voice, “I, uh, didn’t even realize i did that! d-don’t worry about the papers, i-i got it.” his lean figure visibly trembled as he quickly gathered the folder messily, clutching it tightly before his chest to keep the slipping papers from falling once more. “narancia, are you alright?” you asked, noticing the flush coloring his cheeks and the sheen of sweat accruing at his brow. the soft pads of your fingers ghosted along his arm and made all the hairs on hid body stand on end. “y-yes! yes, y/n, i’m fine! don’t worry about me, just a little, uh, sleepy.”

you blinked at him while trying you hardest not to break into a fit of laughter. “narancia...you’re sleepy?!” narancia took a step back, now holding the folder with two hands. “uh, yeah, i think im g-gonna go splash some cold water on my face,” he took a few steps in the other direction before spinning right back around again, “oh, right! y/n, don’t you need this folder?”

you barely had a second to even register all that transpired within the last 5 minutes, the sight of the folder being thrust back in your direction snapping you back with a start. “ah, n-no, actually, nara, bruno told me to give it to you. he told me there was something in there he wanted you to get a chance to look over before i did...something about needing you to devise a plan on your own so you can start taking the lead a little more, i dunno.” you shrugged, giving him an awkward smile before you stepped back. “well, uh, i think i’ll leave you to your planning, nara. come get me when you’re done, okay? i’ll just be in my room waiting for you.” before he could say another word you hurriedly found solace in your bedroom.

you hadn’t noticed the burning in your cheeks and the faint tremor of your hands, but they became achingly apparent the second you shut your door behind you. was nara always that cute? your mind was racing, going a mile a minute. even when he was acting like a total klutz, you couldn’t help but subconcsiously admire the way his raven hair messily framed his face--youthful, yet prettied with age. the way his hand felt around yours lingered on you like a phantom, causing you to slide down your door like a lovesick teen. have you always cherished him this much?

meanwhile in the bathroom, narancia splashed his face with freezing cold water nearly 5 times. what the hell was wrong with him?! first those damn dreams, then the way the heat in his cheeks would radiate to his reddened ears when your visage hung in his mind, now the tremble of his voice? “merda, narancia...pull yourself together!” he cursed under his breath. as he crashed back upon his bed with a groan, his violet gaze met with the folder lying limp on the bedside table; of course, he forgot to even see what the hell bruno’s deal was. taking the lead? planning without his partner? it made less and less sense the more he replayed your words in his mind--though, that could be because he was too focused on remembering the harmony that was the sound your voice.

with an exasperated sigh, narancia sat up and leaned over to snatch the folder, emptying its contents carelessly across the bed. “cosa diavolo sta succedendo?!*” in his tremblng hands was--bruno’s credit card? and with a note attached:

“narancia,

i see the way you smile aorund y/n, the way you lose yourself in her gaze and your undeniable dedication to her partnership. i think your oversleeping will resolve itself once you finally take the lead.

take her out tonight--that’s an order.

-bruno.”

narancia nearly fainted. too much was happening and too many thoughts raced into his mind as he struggled to even hold the card still enough to remove the sticky note. “so a date..he wants me to ask her on a date--”

“nara?”

narancia’s head snapped to the doorway, and seeing your figure frozen in the doorway made his blood run cold. when the hell did you get there? “y/n! wh-what’s up?” he asked, the tremor of his voice only making your own panic worsen. “uh, i came to see h-how you’re doing, but...who are you asking on a date? i-if you dont mind me asking!” your heart pounded in your chest as your mind pleaded not to hear another girl’s name, not to hear anyone but you. narancia glanced back to the note-- take her out, that’s an order--then back to you. “uh, y/n...” he set the card aside, getting up to close the distance between the two of you, then gently held both of your hands.

“n-nara, i--!” he shushed you, thumb gliding gently across the back of your hand. “y/n...i’m going to take the lead now. i’m going to make sure you never have a doubt in your mind about my next move ever again!” with newfound confidence he gave your hands a careful squeeze, before continuing, “y/n, cara...well, there’s no better way for me to say this, but,” your heart burned with desire, trembling body nearly melting as narancia took you into his surprisingly strong embrace.��

“i love you, y/n. and i want to show you just how much i love you...how does tonight sound, carina?”

*what the hell is going on?

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo part 5 #jojo vento aureo #vento aureo #narancia ghirga #narancia #narancia ghirga x reader #narancia x reader #bruno bucciarati #fem reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #fic #tomitara

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stumacherstan · 4 years

Note

Hey if youre still taking monster requests, can we get a orc x reader where the reader is either a kumiho, a nixie, or a naga? Sorry if not and thank you if you can!

Orc x naga!Reader One-shot:

The forest was beautiful was as always. The lights scattered in between the trees. The birds were singing their melody to soothe any wandered and the inhabitants of the land. The sweet smell of trees and and suffocating pollin.

A loud booming of a newcomer disrupted the peace. The tall orc panted as he was running through the trees, as if he was escaping something. Orcs are usually strong and feared, hardly anyone tries to attack them. However if a group of people are rallied up, people tend to gang up. And unfortunately Orc’s tusks sell high in black markets.

The muscular orc, Wraog, was trying to lose the people behind him. He was just trying to get the next closest village for his people who need a certain plant to heal the ongoing sickness that was going on. He was already tired of 3 days of walking and didn’t have the strength to fight off a group of mages. Wraog was slowly getting lost himself, forgetting trees and saw himself trapped between wilderness and a cave.

“You’re trapped now Orc, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way.” A sleazy voice called out to him, almost too smug for comfort.

“It doesn’t matter really, we’ll try to make it painless. Choose the easy way.” Another light aired voice, as if they weren’t going to saw off his tusks and cut his hair.

Wraog saw 3 other people emerge and he didn’t know how big the cave was. He quickly grabbed his dagger and got into a fighting position. “You can try it, but I won’t go down without a fight.”

“Ah so the hard way it is, I was hoping for this. I was getting bored of easy targets.” The once again annoying sleazy voice said.

Meanwhile, you were napping in your cave. A whole day of picking herbs for your tea and drinking in the sunlight on top of your cave. It was a productive day and you fed a couple days ago. Life was great. Peace was yours. Then it wasn’t.

You felt the ground beneath you tremor which woke you up from your slumber. You groaned and strained your ears to detect anything. You heard voices and curiosity was caught on the hook. You slowly slithered out, but not enough to be seen, to see what was going on. You cringed at the whole commotion, lowlife hunters ganging up on another victim. You hated weaklings that felt hunting in numbers were better.

You saw the whole fight go down and the orc was slowly losing no matter how much he countered. You normally didn’t care too much about others, as you only had to take care of yourself to survive. But they were on your territory and you had time to spare.

You quickly striked out and grabbed one with your tail and slammed them down on the dirt. You grabbed one that was on the orc’s back and bit into his arm, ejecting some venom that was gonna hurt for weeks. “You’re all dissssturbing my sssssleep!” You hissed out.

“Holy shit, a naga. We’re in luck! Get them!”

However they were outnumbered by the strength of an awoken naga and an orc. You both quickly defeated them. They had to run off with their numbers dwindled.

You spit on the dead and shook your head. “I hate mages. Little shitheadssss.” You looked up at the slightly beat up Orc. “I don’t really care in particular, but are you okay?”

Wraog’s legs shook and he fell onto the floor, clearly tired. As any normal being would after trying to fight off five mages by themselves.

“Hey! Get up!!” You shouted at him. You poked his side and groaned. “I guess I’ll take care of you,” you grumbled. You heaved and grabbed him by the legs, you started trudging in your cave. “By the stars, you’re so,,, heavy!”

You finally got him inside and wiped your forehead if any sweat. You got a rag and wet it with well water and cleaned his dirtied faced, rinsed the rag in a bucket, and soaked it in clean water once again. “You poor thing, never seen a orc almost be defeated.” You uttered softly as you placed the wet rag on his forehead.

You quickly cleaned up any of his wounds and fed the starving fire in your cave. You checked him once again just to make sure there wasn’t any other harm done and went into your corner of bedding to pick out a warm blanket to put over him. “Sleep well big one.”

Wraog’s purple eyes burst open. A wonderful smell of stew lowed into his nostrils like a sweet dance. He groaned as he sat up. “Where am I?” The slightly moist rag fell onto his lap, he picked it up and inspected it.

“A ssssimple thank you would ssssuffice,” you answered. You stirred the cauldron and added little pinches of seasoning. It was already done but you were adding finishing touches.

“Oh, you’re the one who helped me.” His eyes traveled down to your tail and widened in surprises. Usually Nagas were selfish creatures and kept to themselves. “Thank you very much, I’m Wraog.”

“I’m (Y/N).” You got out a bowl. “It was really no problem, someone had to teach those poachers a lesson at some point.” You poured the stew into a bowl and handed it to him as well as a glass of water.

He sloppily smiled at you, tusks in the way and all, and grabbed the bowl and glass. “I very much appreciate this.” He slowly ate since he wanted to savor it.

“May I asssk why you were in the foressst?”

“I was trying to get to the next village as mine own has been struck by a sickness. I don’t know the herbs name but I have the notes as to what it is, I was seeking help before I got ambushed.” Wraog wiped his mouth of any excess. “This is really good.”

It wasn’t your place, and you didn’t really care about his people. But you kept getting reeled in. “How bad is the illness?” You noted that he complimented your food. A very respectful orc.

“None of the witch doctors can help without the herb. It’s slowly spreading and getting worse. I hate seeing my people get quarantined.” Wraog looked down. “I hope I can heal soon so I can stop bothering me. You’ve done so much for me already.”

like most nagas, you couldn’t really express emotions well. “Well that sssucksss, let me see your list. Maybe I could be of sssome assssitance sssso you can leave ssssooner. Let me see your notessss.” You stuck out your hand patiently.

Wraog’s eyes lit up like a puppy, excited and cute. “Really? This means so much, I’ll make sure to never bother you again.” He dug his big hands into his pockets and pulled out a small black book. “It’s right here.” He flipped to the page and handed it to you.

You read through everything, your tails tip sticking around impatiently as you drank in the information. “I know what herb thisss isss, I don’t ussse it often unlessss I’m ssssick as well. A very good rememdy that helps. I have ssssome and know where to fetch ssssome more.” You glanced at him then looked away. “You can sssstay here, don’t make too much of a messss.”

“Isn’t it too dark by now? Shouldn’t you also rest after fighting?” Wraog cocked his head like a concerned dog. “Don’t overwhelm yourself.”

Your stomach fluttered but you clicked your tongue in annoyance as to not show your true feelings. “Then I’ll go out in the morning if that’ll ssssoothe you, I don’t want you messsing up your ssstitchessss like the big oaf you are.” You quickly served yourself and ate it delicately.

Wraog wasn’t use to silence, he was use to boasting and chatters filling up the air. He looked around your cave that was big enough for him and you. “Very homey. Suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow. Ah orcs, always the talkative ones. “Thank you.”

Wraog nervously chewed on his lip, he hated awkward silences. He could talk on forever. “Your scales are also very beautiful! Hard to believe you live alone with your beauty.” The word vomit came out and his green face exploded into a darker shade.

Your tail stopped rattling and your ears once again heated up. You coughed awkwardly, trying to make sense of the scene. “I, I choose to live alone. Male nagassss are too ignorant for my liking. No point of mating with sssomeone who I won’t enjoy ssspending time with. What about you? A mate?” You inquired, not because you wanted to pursue. It was just a curious thing seeing it was brought up.

“Ah I see, a beauty against the world. No wonder, I wouldn’t have expected you to be mateless but by choice makes more sense,” Wraog warmly smiled, “I don’t have a partner either. Haven’t found anyone specifically who’s peaked my interests.”

You decided to flirt a little, “I wouldn’t expect a handsome sssweet orc like you to be sssingle. I’m sure you have the ladiesss lining up.”

Wraog felt his heart beat a little faster. “Not normally or maybe Im oblivious to it.” He accidentally yawned, killing the mood.

“Well-“ You grabbed his empty bowl and cup, “I sssuppose it’s time for us to sleep. I gotta get up early to fetch your herbs. Rest well Wraog.” You coiled up in your comfy corner with pillows and blankets and fell asleep peacefully.

Wraog had a more difficulty falling asleep, he couldn’t help be marveled by you. A sweet beautiful naga out here by themselves? You were sweet and sour and it certainly peaked his interests. His eyes wandered all over your form till he himself fell asleep.

————————————————

The next morning, you stretched and cracked any stiff bones. You looked to see Wraog sleeping and smiled softly. You quietly slithered to him and looked at his face with deeper insight. You noticed how his look hair draped over him with delicacy, how he breathed heavily due to tusks being in the way, how sharp his tusks were, and how he just seemed at peace. Your hand swiftly caressed him before you giggled and left the cave by yourself with a basket.

You inhaled the sweet air and listened to the birds sing their song. You looked for the sweet purple and orange plant that could help save his village. You went by the river that held the most of the herb. You carefully picked them without cutting yourself on the prickly thorns at the bottom and laid it down in your basket. You repeated this action until your basket was full and made your own way home.

Wraog had woke up and sat up rather quickly when he saw you were gone. “They’ve gone out to get the herb, right.” He told himself. He tried to make himself busy as by making some breakfast, although he wasn’t sure what you liked or where most of your utensils were.

Still, Wraog tried his best. He carefully broke the eggs and beated the yolk and poured into the skillet. He added salt and pepper and left it to sit. He started on the small rations of the mysterious meat, he tried not to think about it. He cut it into pieces and mixed it with the eggs and folded the eggs with meat inside. Wraog was sure to add spices and although he was confident it tasted good, but it didn’t look appealing. Your food looked appealing and his looked like a mess.

He carefully scooped portions out in your bowl and his bowl. He poured water for both of your cups. Wraog decided to be cute and go outside and pick some bright (colored) flowers that matched your tail. He put in the middle of the table. “Damn, I’m stupid. I don’t know when they’re getting back.”

“I’m back?” You declared. You raised your eyebrow to the messy breakfast before you. “I see that you prepared food for the both of us, thank you.” You set your basket down and coiled up next to the table. “You worked really hard on this. I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do since you helped me so much.” Wraog’s face darkened a deep green as he felt his stomach flutter with butteries at your soft smile. “Those are enough for those of the sick, I should be thank you the most.”

“You can thank me again when I escort you out the forest. That’ll be the last thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ll need an escort. I can handle myself.” Although he secretly wants to spend more time with you.

“Do you even know how to get out of here?”

“Oh-“ Wraog felt even more embarrassed and probably looked like an idiot in front of you now. “No.”

“That’s why you need an escort you oaf.” Your words were not bitter, just playful. You started to eat and your eyes turned into slits at the taste. “This is amazing!”

“I tried my best, I’m glad you like it.” Wraog smiled with pride. “After all, you deserve the best.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as you continued to eat.

____

After breakfast was finished, you put the plates into a corner where you would wash them later. You grabbed a sun hat and bag full of water so you wouldn’t dehydrate on your small journey. “Do you have the strength to carry the basket all the way home?” You asked the orc who was standing outside your cave now.

“Yes, I’m fully rested now and you’ve taken care of you quite well, and fortunately I heal fast thanks to your herbs.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay give me a couple of more minutes.” You remembered how he said it took him three days to get where he was before he was ambushed and packed him a different bag for his own supplies so he can be okay for the trip. You hated seeming soft so you exited your cave and gently threw the bag at his feet. “Your supplies so you don’t die on the way back, your people depend on you.”

“You’re too kind to me.” Wraog couldn’t help but give you smooth forehead a smooch. “I’m glad I stumbled up on even if it was caused by those damn mages.”

Your face blossomed with color and you looked down so he couldn’t see your slitted eyes. “Whatever, let’s go.”

You led the way the whole time, you rarely leave the forest. Only leaving when you need specific supplies, but you usually take short cuts and use your speed to your advantage. Orcs aren’t as fast as nagas so you slowed down your pace for Wraog.

“You know, when I’m not running from mages. The scenery is very beautiful.” Wraog commented, once again hating the silence.

“I suppose it is, I never really took the time to stop and smell the flowers. I usually go wherever I’m headed without slowing down.”

“Fast paced life huh?”

“I guess I’m just use to do everything by myself and just keeping myself busy since I live alone that my set routine stops me from doing new things.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“Nagas are usually lonely creatures. Too territorial unless they have a mate or kids. So I guess you can say I’m use to it.”

“Well does it get boring?”

“I sleep away my boredom.” You paused. “I also read books and imagine myself as the character. It’s really nice.”

“Well, if you’d like, I can always stop by and hang out with you. I have a good sense of direction.”

“It took you three days to even get here, why would you do that just to see me?” You turned your head to look at him as you kept on slithering your way through.

Wraog shyly looked up at the sky, “You’ve really peaked my interest, and I think you’re really cute and interesting and kind. I wouldn’t mind traveling to see you.”

You turned your head back as your face flushed, “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind. In fact, I would like that. You’re kind too and cute as well.” You muttered the cute part although he heard you pretty clear.

As you guys chartered more, soon enough the clearing. The clearing showed the path of where Wraog was walking.

“Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

“Not goodbye (Y/N), see you later.”

“Oh right! See you later.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Wraog bent down a little bit to peck your cheek. “Thank you once again for everything, maybe one day we could be more.”

Your eyes turned into slits once again and your ears burned. You closed your eyes and hugged him, taking in his scent so you could remember it until he came back. “Thank you for giving me a chance. See you soon.” You let go although it took him a little longer to let go of you.

Wraog waved as he started walking, and you watched him till he was nothing but a speck.

#orc #monsterlover #monster boyfriend #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster x reader #exophilia

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

hilary (can i call you hilary like we’re not some internet strangers??) i read the new PEL update and akskajnakowl. Matthias. Sweetie. Going to Druskelle Inc. always somehow causes more problems 👏🏽👏🏽 i mean to be fair, i read the story and im truly astounded by Matthias’ level of no braincells at times. My sweet sweet bland white bread. i just… the common denominator is that every time Matthias and Nina split up some shit goes haywire. Stop doing that 👏🏽 these two are going to need to be bubble wrapped to make it down the altar.

also i would be remiss if i didnt take a moment to acknowledge the King Garbage man himself, Aleksander Morozov. like wooooow. he really tried to pretend he was a badass and then was like “…alina?” what an absolute simp and the funniest part is he tried to be like, “Oh Vanya? Where is that dear friend? Of course, I, ME, i am thriving and walking around in all black dramatically.” BUT who’s laughing now Aleks because Ivan has been in a steady relationship for almost a decade and Aleksander gave off PEAK “the wedding is back on when she unblocks me I SWEAR.” I dont know if we ever find out where Alina is now but I picture her THRIVING ✨ and being unbothered that her ex is tossing away whole missions just to simp over her. She’s giving off “Oh i need a last name and some backstory to dust off the memory a little” and meanwhile Aleks is like ALEKSANDER.EXE has failed to load when he even hears the start of her name.

Hahaha indeed, going to Drüskelle Inc. always causes problems because YOUR BOSS IS A NAZI, MATTHIAS. Which tbf, you have now realized, but not before it caused a shit ton of problems, drove Nina away, got Fedyor kidnapped, and oh yeah, you shot directly in the literally-too-stubborn-to-die head, my darling. So many problems could have been avoided if you had just a few more brain cells, Matthias. Just a few. Yet we love you anyway. Get well.

And yes. Aleksander is a complete utter no holds barred nuclear flaming dumpster fire in Phantomverse. Like. Somehow even more than canon, if that's possible. And yes Alina is probably off somewhere living her best life but still getting a tremor in the Force like I... I sense somehow that Aleksander is blowing up his own life again because he is still not over me, wow, really. While Aleksander 100% secretly hopes that Nina knows Alina and will put in a good word for him, which is an absolutely horrible plan given all the, you know, kidnapping and beating up by GRU thugs, but literally no one, ever, said that Aleksander was a romantic genius. No one. Ever. Ever.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I am glad you are enjoying it. 😂😂😂

#anonymous #ask #pel asks

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xinea · 4 years

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BakuDeku AU that combines the “students don’t know their professors are husbands” trope with the “is kelly your wife or your dog??” meme

Professor Midoriya’s class all the students know about his spouse, bc he gushes about “Kacchan” ALL the time, and everyone wonders “What does the Ka- stand for? Kaoru? Kazuki? Katashi??” He seems physically incapable of saying.

Meanwhile, everyone WISHES Professor Bakugou had someone, because whenever he’s not tearing his students apart, he only ever mentions his pet named Deku (Because that’s obviously not an affectionate name by human standards), who constantly rushes out into the street to greet babies and puppies alike, makes a mess of all the paperwork in the house, and only ever eats when Bakugou puts food directly in front of him.

(”Heres an idea,” suggests Student Who Cannot Look at One More Textbook Without Feeling Tremors to a group of friends in a bar, “Let’s get Bakugou a date! Maybe that’ll ease ‘im off our backs for once.”

“I’m down,” agrees Student Going on 48 Hours of Sleep Deprivation. “We could ask Midoriya if he knows anyone in his department who’s single. He’s such a romantic, I bet he’d love to help out!”)

#bnha #bakudeku #deku would either break apart immediately thinking katsuki is telling his student's he's not happy w his love life #or catch on and proceed to troll his students for the rest of the semester #there is no in between #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #sometimes i meta #i mean i would write this if i werent such a mess

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leelee10898 · 5 years

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Chikara: Zenshin suru (2/?)

Summary:Moving forward. At least thats what Ellie is trying to do. Meanwhile Colt finds trouble back home. Catch up HERE. If you would like added to the tag list, let me know.

Raiting: Mature. This series deals with violence, angst, death, sexual situations and bad choices. Read at your own risk.

Ellie sat up in disbelief oh you have got to be kidding me she flopped back down on the bed. "Oooh come on Ellie, its gonna be so much fun." Ellie rolled her eyes as she was lifted up off the bed. "Seriously Ingrid, how the hell did you end up in here? You had a different roommate." Ellie groaned, could her luck get any worse? A horribly emotional Thanksgiving, and now this, she was convinced someone hated her.

"Well," Ingrid flipped her hair and sat on ellies bed "I put in for a new roommate before Thanksgiving. She was horrible, she used to microwave liver, the dorm smelled like burnt rotten sneakers." She pointed her finger to her throat, making a gagging sound. "So they called with this opening and well, here I am!" She perked up. "Come on, there's a party tonight in the dorms across the quad, lets go."

"A party? God no. I'm really not in the mood to party, it was a long, long break and a long flight, you go on without me this time ok. " Ellie refused.

"No can do! I have watched you mope around this campus like a sad little puppy dog. It stops now! Get up, get your ass dressed." Ellie eyed Ingrid in disbelief, was she really going to allow her high school rival boss her around. She stared at Ingrid a moment longer, arms folded against her chest. "Fiiiiiiine!" She got up and started getting ready. Once she was fully dressed she grabbed Colts jacket and walked out the door.

They walked into the crowded halls of the building across the quad. The music pumping throughout, kegs in many of the rooms and almost everyone had a red solo cup in hand. "Want a beer?" Ingrid tried talking over the loud music. "No. I don't drink." She shouted back, Ingrid shrugged her shoulders "suit yourself." Ingrid paraded Ellie around, introducing her to so many people. She felt oddly out of place, but if she was going to try and move on, she figured maybe this was a start. What she wouldn't give to have Riya here with her now, but Riya was a little over an hour away at hartfeld. They were standing there talking to some girl Ingrid knew when two guys approached, one with Dark blonde hair, the other a brunette with stunning blue eyes. The girl walked away leaving the two of them, with the two guys. "Looking good Ingrid." The blonde smirked as he leaned in kissing Ingrid's cheek. "Kyle, this is Ellie. Ellie, kyle." Ellie gave him a shy wave. "Nice to meet you Ellie, this is my friend Nick." Kyle introduced the two.

Ingrid and Kyle were caught up in an intense, flirtatious conversation, leaving Ellie and Nick standing there. "So. You don't look like you want to be here." Nick finally broke the silence. "I'm not really into the whole party scene." She admitted. "Neither am I, I only came because Kyle wanted to see Ingrid." He chuckled as he stood next to Ellie. "Yeah. Ingrid drug me out. Still getting used to being friends with her, after being rivals for so long."

"Oh, so you two knew each other before college?" He quirked his brow, seemingly interested in having a conversation with her. "Yeah. We went to the same high school. Battled for valedictorian our senior year."

Nick leaned in a little closer. "And which one of you won it?" His voice low and Intoxicating. She bit her lower lip. Trying to stop the huge grin from spreading across her face. "I bet it was you. You got that smart and beautiful thing going for you." Her face was now beat red. "Beautiful huh?" She tried to even her voice, praying he didn't hear the slight tremor. "I call it how I see it. And you Ellie, are probably the most beautiful woman here." Ellie turned a deep shade of crimson, it had been a while since anyone flirted with her. She couldn't help but think about Colt, what he was doing in that moment, wondering if he even thought of her at all anymore. Ellie mentally reprimanded herself, she was trying to move on with her life, she needed to stop pretending that she and Colt were anything but a distant memory now. "Hey Nick, wanna dance?" Nick smiled wide "Lets do it."

****

California…

Colt climb off his bike and stashed it, he made his way quickly down the familiar street and ducked in the side through the loose boards. He had been coming to the shop here and there for a few months, ever since the heat from the FBI died down. He hadn't been in a couple weeks, he spent Thanksgiving break with his mom and he was itching to get back to the shop and continue his treasure hunt. He started in the back of the shop, mostly sticking to the private quarters. His pop wasn't like a regular blue collar guy, he didn't use a bank except for the legit auto shop account. Everything else he had was hidden in the shop like In the walls where one or more of his great grandparents installed a fireproof safe, Loose floorboards, hollowed out cabinets with a removable panel. Colt had found the deed to the garage, a copy of Kaneko's will leaving everything to him, the original he was certain in a safe deposit box somewhere, he knew he would have to piece clues together, it was what his dad did. He also found Several stacks of money, bonds and other property deeds.

He climbed the steps to Logans loft. He had yet to go up there, the bitter taste of Jealousy still thick on his tongue. He hated Logan from the moment he met him, he hated that a pretty boy was his father's prize poodle, he had the nice car, the good jobs, and he had Ellie eating out of the palm of his hand. He snorted, a smirk forming on his lips when that changed. He swore he could still feel the softness of her lips pressed against his, her arms wrapped tightly around him as they lost themselves in the pacific.

Colt walked through the room, stepping over debris, a gaping hole in the roof letting the moonlight shine in giving him some natural light.

He found a metal box under the burnt bed frame, he had to pry it open, not much inside except a few slips of paper and a flash drive. He checked his phone, 9pm. He had been there longer then he should. He pocketed the flash drive and descend the stairs to the bay. His eyes landed on something glimmering in the moonlight. He reached down to pick up the item, his heart caught in his chest as he realized what it was.

******

The day he took Ellie to her driving test, he wandered around inside the dmv, waiting for her to finish up. He knew she would pass, she was a natural. A rack of keychains sat displayed in front of him, he fumbled through them until he found the perfect one.

He waited outside as Ellie bounced out of the DMV, a freshly printed license in hand. "I passed, I passed!" She squealed as she threw her arms around Colts neck. "Congratulations. Here I got you something." He held out the silver crown keychain. Ellie looked between him and the key chain, as she took it out of his hand "thank you colt. But why a crown?" Colt shrugged his shoulders, "I'll tell you later, now come on let's get back to the shop."

*******

How did it get here? He knew Ellie had it on her keychain when she left for school, she hadn't been back to the shop after that night, unless. Unless she was there, sometime while he was away. He felt the lump in this throat grow bigger, she was there and he could have seen her. In that moment the need to see her, to feel her in his arms, to hear her voice, taste the sweetness of her lips. It was all too much to bare. He shook the thoughts from his head, she was at Langston, safely away from the crime ridden streets of LA, it wouldn't be long until he was with her again.

He put the keychain in his pocket, along with the flash drive and headed to where he stashed his bike a few blocks over. He kept looking over his shoulder, a nagging feeling he was being followed. He got to his stash spot, attempting to quickly climb on his bike and start it and thats when he hit him. Colt crashed to the ground with a thud, his bike coming with him. He had just enough time to roll as his attacker came down on him with a knife. He sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. His assailant charged forward, colt side stepping, grabbing the attacker by the arm, bringing his elbow down on his shoulder, the knife hitting the ground with a clatter.

The man clutched his shoulder, crying out in pain. "Wrong choice buddy. Guess you don't know who I am?" Colt spat as the man turned, baring a rage filled face. "I don't ask names, I do what im told." He circled Colt, looking for his opening when his fist connected hard with Colts jaw. The attacker grabbed the knife, as colt lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. Colts first landing blow after blow, the man lifted his hand, slicing into colts side. Fuck! Colt screamed out in pain, it only fueled his rage further as he screamed "Who sent you?" he screamed as he twisted his body bringing the mans arm behind him,incapacitating him. "Arg, not going. To tell you." Colt shook his head as he pulled his arm further behind him. "Ahhh. Wallace. His names wallace." Satisfied colt released his hold on the man, shoving him to the ground. "Of course he didnt give you a fucking name. The little bitch. He knew you'd never fucking do it." Colt circled the man, stalking him like a lion and he was his prey. The man looked up at him confused, A devious smirk played on his lips, "the names Kaneko." He let the name set in. "I'm thinking the letters M.P.C are flashing in your mind right now aren't they?" The man sat there, paralyzed in fear. "Now, you run and tell all your friends, that MPC still runs things." The man nodded his head and took off.

Colt clutched his side, the realization that he was hurt crashing down on him at once. He hopped on his bike, flying down the highway to the only place he could think to go.

He pulled up to a small house in a backwoods California town, Killed the engine and walked to the house. He reached the door, banging harder than necessary. "Colt. What the hell are you doing here?" The voice spoke through the latched door. "I know. I'm sorry but, its an emergency." He pulled his blood covered hand from his side. "I need your help."

Permatag

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101 @hazah @desiree-0816

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear

@simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent

@akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch @choicesarehard @paisleylovergirl @itskismetbb @itsmarleen

@rhischoicesfanfics @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @iplaydrake @coffeebeandragon @jasidu2 @charliezchan

@umiumichan @sarwin85 @skdskdskdskdskdsk @liamzigmichael4ever

@littlemissimaginativerhi @somebarbietingz

#chikara rod fan fic #ride or die bad boy romance #choices ride or die #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #colt x mc #i love colt kaneko #leelee10898 fan fic

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dreamydorito · 5 years

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Fictober 2019- Day 1- The Carnival

Prompt 1- ‘It will be fun, trust me.’

Original Fiction, For General Audience

TW- Fear, Anxiety

The Carnival

A/N- I’m so excited to be doing Fictober this year, might give up pretty fast but im hoping to last a while. Feel free to join me and let me know how you’re doing. Have fun!

Stephanie has never been to the carnival, that was, never before today. Not for lack of trying, as she resisted in every possible way, Jen, however, was persistent.

At six in the morning exactly, she was awoken by a loud knocking at her bedroom door. After a moment, her roommate let herself, content she gave Steph enough warning to make sure she was prepared. It was more curtesy than usual as Jen had a habit of bursting into rooms regardless of the time of day, it was clear she was trying to get on Steph’s good side today. Only just awake, Stephanie only vaguely registered Jennifer's presence before she was ripped from her semi-conscious state by the burst of light that flooded in the room as the curtains were ripped open.

‘Get dressed sweetie, we’re off on an adventure today’

Jen’s surprises hardly ever ended well. Just her experiences at the Petting Zoo where the snake escaped and was already around her neck before anyone realized what had happened and the massage place that turned out to be a mafia front leaving them stuck in a shoot out dressed in nothing more than towels were enough to make her shiver at the word adventure for many years to come, not even getting started on all their other bizarre shared experiences.

She was about to protest when she registered the start of eye bag bruising under her eyes and the small tremors in her hands. Although these signs were almost unnoticeable, one doesn't survive life as Jennifer Blackstone’s roommate without an inbuilt sensor for her each and every emotion and habit. So it was one of those nights huh?

Taking into account Jen probably needed a win and she had no valid excuse not to, Steph let herself get dragged out of her bed, eventually getting changed into pineapple print summer dress. Although it wasn’t exactly her style, it was a birthday present from Jen and she loved it.

The blindfold Jennifer put on her while she drove them to their mystery location was becoming a little itchy however luckily she could feel the car coming to a stop. When she removed it she saw a sight she avoided all her life. The Carnival.

She had no issues with the carnival personally, it was just the rides she dreaded, and so she put those off for as long as possible, ignoring the Anxious voice in the back of her head screaming. Instead, she enjoyed the other attractions.

To no-ones surprise Jen was incredible at the games, winning several stuffed teddy bears, offering them to passing children as soon as she received them, explaining to her bemused friend ‘The bears couldn’t possibly live a happy life in our small apartment. I only play the games to prove I could win them. Which I obviously can’

Stephanie, on the other hand, opted for the food stalls, buying a candy floss as big as her head, the two girls sharing it between. Together they waited for twenty minutes in a queue of hyperactive children and exhausted parents to get their faces painted. Jennifer asked for the most ferocious dragon possible meanwhile Stephanie opted for a more traditional butterfly on her cheek.

Content with her day, Steph was ready to head home, a tug on her hand stopping her in her tracks.

‘Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!’

Stephanie was unsure, she was hoping to avoid this, her deathly fear of heights crashes and fast things eliminating most rides. This uncertainty was visible to Jennifer.

‘Apart from the teacups, it is the calmest ride here. If you get scared you can always just hold me by the hand. It’ll be fun. Trust me’

Unable to resist her puppy dog eyes, Stephanie gave in, grasping Jen’s hand for dear life as they approached the attraction and paid for their tickets. As they sat down side by side however the uneasiness faded away. Right next to Jennifer she felt safe. Even as the Ferris Wheel lifted them up, she felt just as good. Unclouded by fear she was able to admire the beautiful view of the city, tinted by the golden and pink hues of sunset.

Giving Jen’s hand a squeeze she told herself to trust her next time, maybe it wouldn’t end up so bad. And so the two girls, a dragon and a butterfly watched the sunset together from the top of the world.

#fictober19 #fictober #fictober 2019 #carnival #tw fear #fear #negative emotions #tw negative emotions #ferris wheel #gay #love story #original writing #original story #oneshot #dorywritesthings

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myimmortalstalker · 5 years

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Chapter 30

“No!11” we screamed sadly. Tremo stated loafing meanly. He took out a kamera anvilly. Then… … … he came tords Skare!1! He took sum artefacts out of his pocket. He put da artefacts around Scar and lit a candle.

“What the fuck r u doing!” I shooted arngrily. Termo laughed meanly. He polled down his pants. I gasped- there was a stalker mark on his you-know-wut!11!

He searched in his jacked and a nife came out. He gave da knife 2 me.

“U must stab Broodsucker.” he said to me. “If u don’t then I’ll rap Scar!1”

“No you fucking bastrad!1”I yielded.

But den Scar looked at me sadly with his evil goffik-gopnik red eyes dat looked so depressant and sexy. He looked exactly like a pentragram (lol geddit koz im goffic) between an irridiated man and a bnadit. But then I looked at Bloodsucker and he looked so smexy too wif his goffik black hair. I thought of da time when we screwed and the time I did it with Scar and Sidorobitch came and the tame where Scar almost commited suicide and Bloodsucker wuz so sportive.

Temor laughed angrily. He started top rey to Slutan. He started to an incapacitation around the arteefacs whipping Scar and Bloodsucker. Suddenly an idea I had. I clozd my eyes and using my vampire powers I sent a telapthetic message to Sker and Bloodsuker so they would destruct Termo.

“Sidhorobitch wil get u!” Scar shooted.

“Yah just wait ubtil da Evologits find out!11” Bloodscuker yelled. Meanwhile I took out my gun.

“You ridiculus dondderhed!111” Termo yielded. He took off all of Skir’s clothes. Just as he was about to rape him… … …

“Urod!” I shited pointing my wound. Teemo scremed and started running around da room screming. Meanwhile I grabed my blak PDA and sent a txt 2 Boromir. I stopped yelling urod.

“You dunderhed!111 Im going to kill-“ shooted Tremor but suddenly Voronin came.

Termo put he whip behind his bak. “Oh hello Vor I wuz just showing them sumthing.” he lied. But suddenly Levedes and Unkle Yarp came in2 da room and they and Voromin took the whip from Termo. The Inkle Yar said “Come on Strelok let’s go.”

#Call of Enoby #S.T.A.L.K.E.R.#my immortal #this chapter has so many typos is barely legible #in my defense the original was like that so... XD #also if Tara could have Tom Bombodil we can have Boromir!

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kitsoa · 6 years

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Chikai Detailed Review

I was expecting the full version of Chikai to drop sometime today or tomorrow considering her album’s on its way. Finally....finally, this haunting song is here and it’s making me weep. I’m gonna dig into observations with time stamps from the linked video. I am under the impression that the English version is gonna be vastly different, but I hope not, this is.... ethereal, it feels like destiny.

If you have listened to this song enough that you’d be willing to follow me on this listening journey, then there is more under the cut:

0:00- Right at the beginning starts the divisive syncopated piano rhythm. I understand why people might be jarred by it because its not terribly common in modern pop but it is just so incredibly unique and compelling for a number of reasons.

It’s in three. Like that’s just a giggle inducing move. Threes are so important to the series as the various trios are the lifeblood of the themes. And of course, its the long awaited third game and third Utada song. Very cute.

The syncopation is a very obvious heart beat. ‘baa--- ba-dum baa-- ba-dum’ The song is a goddamn heart. (I’m SCREAMING) and the fact that its in the piano is interesting and potentially symbolic. I mean, the piano is being turned into a primary rhythm instrument is weird to us Yoko Shimomura lovers because she layers her work with flourishing piano melodies. But ultimately that instrument is the lifeblood of the music of KH and Utada could be making a nod to that by making it serve itself as the heartbeat of her song.

0:13- To go along with this ‘Utada is clearly text painting Kingdom Hearts into the fabric of her song’ thing, the violin line here has a distinctly Royal feel to it. Like (Oh god, proper nouns are escaping me but im thinking of something specific) in those baroque marches where the continuo is keeping this steady, rhythmic pulse underneath a violin’s elongated phrase as someone of importance (a king?) makes way through a scene. The fact that it’s orchestrated at all makes this feel like a melancholy/nostalgic coronation.

0:30- I will abstain from judging the english version but this is like... one of my favorite aspects of the main verse line. The Japanese corresponding text to our ‘thieves’ here slides into a resolution from its suspension in a ridiculously awesome way. It’s almost weepy. I’m gonna say the word a lot but thats probably cause I’m crying. It’s also very chill and jazzy. Ultimately the resolution (which is the main theme of KH3--Utadaaaaaa) here feels heavy and incomplete. Bitter sweet?

0:40- I like this vocal line. It’s very Utada because it’s actually super hard to pull off. Switch registers like that and keeping the line intense... dayum. I like that it repeats cause that like the musical equivalent to the moral of ‘keep on trying till you get it right’. It’s distinctly ‘determined’

0:47-- That drum pattern kicks in and its very clear this song is just gonna gradually build. It’s working toward something. It’s also super groovy.

1:07- Chorus kicks in. This melodic line is just the pure definition of the word ‘yearning’. It begins with a chromatic climb to top of the melody’s standard range and hangs there for a second as though it wants to go higher but can’t and then it repeats. (try and try again?)

1:30- Dude this is it. The part our virgin ears have yet to consume.

2nd verse! I love the syllabification here. It makes me wonder what the English is gonna try to convey.

1:43-- Funny enough it is in this verse the underlying ‘ah’ accent from the English version is placed. I like it here because you can sense that this standard ballad is gradually growing into something more ethereal (like KH2′s Passion).

1:46-- oh OH BOY. Lots of things are happening. First of all, that syllabic rhythm is electric (it also foreshadows the next part). It’s mesmerizing and varies from the established verse in a way that tumbles us into the next onslaught of concepts.

Namely. The violin’s tremor-like half step noodling that builds and builds (1:49) up to a striking imagining of the 0:40 line. The vocals turn into a tightly packed, chord that is entirely inhuman sounding-- but it’s also a staple of Utada’s that I’ve heard in some of her other works. Needless to say this was the part where I actually gasped while listening. It sounded like Passion for a split second.

1:59-- The change in chords right at this moment gave me chills cause I didn’t expected it and it opened up the floodgates of surprise, tumbling into 2:00′s fast triplet ornamentation like a vortex. This created a magnetic little spiral to me, like I was being sucked down a rabbit hole. I can only imagine what imagery could be sparked from this micro-passage alone.

2:04-- right here we get the main chorus with a mighty fine and ethereal ‘ah’ broken chord in the build up. This makes the chorus insanely beautiful and interesting and mesmerizing. I love following that counter melody gahh.

2:27-- The vocal line builds nicely with a very new theme, the words are starting to have a very pronounced rhythm that 1:46 was alluding to. The words alone are pulling the music into this entirely new idea with a dramatic decay in the orchestration.

2:38-- This part is crazy. It’s using that triplet figure and drives the vocal line with it. Meanwhile the underlying symphony is echoing that heartbeat like opening line. The vocals are frantic and pleading and grow more layered and ethereal yet again. It sounds inhuman-- or angelic. Ultimately it feels completely unfathomable. I am utterly captivated by this moment.

3:00-- Chorus comes back! And now its the part from the extended preview that I heard before. The beat underneath this packs a punch like no other as the backing vocals and strings just flourish in the chorus.

3:22-- The famous ‘kiss me once’ moment. The vocal lines alone act like crashing waves with the set driving in the back ground. The the melody just cries out.

3:45-- then it repeats with that triplet figure driving underneath and you become distinctly overwhelmed with emotion.

4:08 Until this close out happens and it feels like a different song. The melodic line moves a lot and I get a sort of resigned impression. But it surprises in the last minute by building towards...

Nothing. It ends in a major key in the middle of a resolving phrase, an empty rhythm clap filling the following beat like Utada is speechless. It leaves you speechless as it returns to the opening heart beat. You could argue that the ending is incomplete... and that the return to the opening figure indicates that the song could just... start all over again on loop, never ending. I get the strange feeling that I’ll only be able to interpret the meaning of that very unresolved resolution when I finish the game.

Overall:

This song is a religious experience for me. Utada truly delivered and you can tell that she is weaving every message into the fabric of this work. I haven’t looked through lyric translations, and to be honest I don’t think I will because its the melody alone that I feel tells the greater story.

I have a lot of questions after listening to this. A lot of it pertains to the English version, knowing that there will definitely be big changes to the text heavy sections. There’s worry in that, but I’m excited about it all the same. I also wonder about the opening cinematic. Listening to this here tells me that we are not getting a remixed version (imo). And I am pleased with this potential fate. This song builds perfectly, we don’t need a hype song, we need Chikai.

I am curious if they are going to cut the song. It’s long. For an opening especially. This is a worry because good lord it builds perfect we can’t cut a thing-- plus all the more reasons to have a longer cinematic I live for those. Finally I have to wonder the direction of those visuals. I’m not sure many of the dream imagery from openings past will work but I could very well be proved wrong.

I’m cry guys. Favorite KH song hands down.

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #chikai review #im a music major but i can remember none of the specific lingo #shame of me #now i can just sit back and listen to this song

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lordofthebigtimesupernatural · 6 years

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Hi! I really really love your single dad au despite im not good at english (im korean btw)😂😂 if you ok, can you write about kid keith eats only what he want so shiro is very worried about that? And thank you for your amazing writings!

Hello there nonny! You are so good and your English is fantastic! I’m so happy that you are enjoying this AU, even when English isn’t your first language! Thank you for sending a prompt and reading this AU! I do apologize for the wait and I hope you still enjoy this!

x.V.x

“No!”

“Come on Keith, please?”

“No!”

“Just a couple of bites.”

“No!”

“Please sweetheart, you can’t go hungry.”

“No!”

“Young man, don’t make me use my disappointed face.”

“No! No!”

“How about this? I’ll give you extra cuddles if you eat more.”

“…No!”

Shiro threw his arms in the air, frustrated beyond belief by this point. Who knew that a four-year-old could already cause so much frustration. He thought he was past the terrible two phase and into the formidable fours. Shiro wasn’t prepared for rebelling at his age, he was only winding down from his own rebellious nature. How was he supposed to handle Keith already rebelling against his father? He was too young.

Keith, meanwhile, was glaring at his dinner plate (which was nothing more than chicken and rice at this point) with all of his little might. His arms were crossed over his chest and his cheeks were puffed out with his eyebrows scrunched. If Shiro hadn’t been arguing with Keith for the past two hours, he would have found Keith to look rather adorable.

Yet, here they were, two hours since dinner started and Keith hadn’t eaten a bite. Shiro’s dinner was long done and he had hoped that Keith would eventually start eating. However, when the toddler didn’t even take a bite, Shiro began to try coaxing Keith into eating.

Sometimes Keith could be a picky eater. The texture was gross, the flavor was too much, but by now Shiro had Keith’s palette down to a T. There hadn’t been any incidences with meals for a couple of years now. At least, not until last week. It started gradually, with Keith eating less and less at meals, or simply wanting something else to eat. Shiro had chalked it up to Keith getting picky again.

However, when Keith started refusing meals he became worried. Keith wouldn’t even eat any alternatives that Shiro would try to give him. He flatly refused any kind of food, at several meals.

It was worrying Shiro because now Keith’s health was concerned. Thankfully, Keith was still drinking as much as he normally did. But Shiro knew that Keith would get sick if he didn’t eat enough. It was only a matter of times before things got worse. Though, nothing Shiro tried worked on Keith.

Timeouts only got Keith even more upset. He still didn’t eat.

Switching out food had no reaction. Keith still wouldn’t eat.

Snacks were barely working anymore. He still didn’t eat.

Trying to eat Keith’s dinner with him didn’t do a thing. He still refused to eat.

Tiredly, Shiro scrubbed his hand up and down his face before swallowing thickly. “Keith, baby, you have to eat. Please? If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick.”

“No!” Keith scrunched up his face again and swung his legs.

“Baby,” Shiro gently set his hands on Keith’s legs to keep him from swinging wildly. Thankfully, Keith stopped kicking, but his glare was now aimed at Shiro. Have mercy on my soul. “You need to eat for Daddy, or else Daddy is going to be so sad.”

This seemed to get Keith’s attention momentarily.

“If you don’t eat and get sick, then daddy worries and that makes him sad,” Shiro continued quickly in hopes that this would work. He felt a bit bad by having to guilt his son into eating, and he knew that this wouldn’t be the healthiest of ways to get Keith to eat. However, he would do whatever it took to get Keith to eat tonight. “Daddy doesn’t want to see you sick, so you have to eat. Please? Can you just eat for daddy?”

Keith stared at his father with big (deceitful) blue eyes. His glare was slowly morphing into a look of concern. Shiro ignored the twinge in his gut when Keith looked down at his food. Slowly, without saying a word, Keith grabbed his fork and stabbed into a piece of chicken. Then, slowly and with a face of annoyance, Keith chewed on the meat and began to eat.

Shiro almost cried when Keith finally finished his small portion.

“Thank you, sweetheart, you did so well. Daddy is so proud of you.” Shiro cooed shakily. He pulled Keith out of his chair and into his arms. Immediately, Keith was satisfied and curled into his father for extra cuddles. Shiro decided not to bring up the matter to Keith again this night, despite the slight tremor in his hand. Instead, he cleaned off the dinner table and sat on the couch for a few hours, cuddling Keith until the toddler had passed out.

Shiro knew he couldn’t let this go on.

Keith needed help.

x.V.x

“He’s so young. Is this normal behavior?” Shiro worriedly chewed his lip. The doctor in front of him nodded to acknowledge his words, as she peered down Keith’s throat with her light. Keith squirmed uncomfortably and Shiro gently squeezed his hand.

“Everything looks fine to me. No internal redness or tearing in the throat,” Dr. Kegan said softly. She turned her small light off and peered at Keith’s eyes. “No yellow or red in his eyes or discolored skin. Everything looks perfectly healthy on this fella, aside from being slightly underweight.”

Shiro felt his stomach drop.

Keith tugged on Shiro’s arm, causing Shiro to remember the coloring book in his bag. He quickly pulled it out for his son, to keep Keith preoccupied while they talk.

“Underweight?” Shiro licked his lips.

“Yes. However, Keith has always been slightly below average in his height and weight,” Dr. Kegan explained, examining her records to verify. Shiro nodded. Keith was small for his age, but he and the doctors were hopeful that Keith would grow as he got older.

“Right now he’s below the fiftieth percentile by a few pounds.” Dr. Kegan explained. “That’s a bit more than usual, however, he’s nowhere near as underweight as his records state back when he was six months old. I would be more concerned about his weight back then than his weight right now. He’s still within a relatively safe zone.”

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes darted over to Keith but found that Keith wasn’t listening to either of them and instead, coloring a pride of lions. When Shiro had first adopted Keith, despite having chubby cheeks and being the most beautiful thing that Shiro had ever seen, Keith had been very underweight. Shiro could remember the first time he held Keith, he had been terrified of crushing him. Babies were small, but Keith was tiny. He remembers how he could count every one of Keith’s ribs or how his teeny tummy was sunken in from hunger. Shiro never wants Keith to ever grow hungry like that ever again.

As his father, Shiro had made a promise to Keith that day to never let his baby go hungry.

“But he could get to that state if this keeps up,” Shiro stated.

Dr. Kegan sighed and eventually nodded. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be concerned if Keith isn’t eating. It’s a major concern and he could continue to remain underweight which could affect his future growth. However, many kids are picky eaters. You’re not the first parent with a child refusing to eat.”

Shiro frowned.

“There’s nothing indicating that Keith has unwillingly stopped eating,” Dr. Kegan explained. Keith continued to color a lion green with his tongue poking out in concentration. “He’s had no allergic reactions either. My best guess is this is, unfortunately, a phase that Keith is going through. He doesn’t quite understand the importance of eating as you and I do, and it could simply be that Keith thinks eating is boring.”

“Boring?!” Shiro almost slapped his forehead. “But he can’t stop eating.”

“No, he can’t. The best that you can do, is continue to encourage him to eat. Even if it means eating a bit unhealthy right now. I would rather Keith willingly have fries and a burger for dinner, instead of nothing.” Dr. Kegan said slowly. Shiro nodded, eyes trailing over to Keith before glancing back at her. “You have to remain patient and calm. Getting angry might only make Keith more upset. There are alternatives to making sure Keith gets all of the nutrients that he needs.”

“Really?” Shiro breathed.

“Yes, you can start with vitamins and gummies. Then try getting Keith to drink special nutrient shakes, such as Pediasure or any other alternative, that is meant for nutritional value to children. It won’t be a permanent replacement for food, but for now, it will make sure to keep Keith healthy and well “fed” so to speak.” Dr. Kegan explained. “Try getting Keith to drink a glass of these during breakfast and at dinner. This way if Keith won’t eat, then he can at least get his nutrition in and his growth won’t be affected. Do not force feed him. That can ruin any progress you made. If in a couple weeks, Keith is still not eating, then we can try alternatives.”

Shiro swallowed but found himself nodding at Dr. Kegan’s gentle words.

“How do I try to get him to eat?” He finally asked.

“Try making it a game? Or making it fun? You and your son have very creative imaginations,” Dr. Kegan’s smile widened when Shiro’s cheeks became aflame with a blush. “I know you’ll figure something out.”

You bet your bottom dollar that Shiro would.

He would do anything for his son.

x.V.x

“Alright, captain Keith. There are approximately ten enemy units of broccoli invading your northern lands of potato. They’re attempting to ransack the pools of gravy, what are your orders?”

“We need to elimi-date the enemy!”

“Excellent captain. How many shall we each destroy?”

“Hmm, you take seven and I’ll take three!”

“Are you sure captain?”

“Um, I’ll take four?”

“Most brilliant captain. Prepare the pronged weapons in, 3, 2, 1…go!”

With that Shiro and Keith, both stabbed their forks into a head of broccoli. Shiro quickly scooped up six pieces and ate them up. He saw Keith eating three of them, and struggling with the last head of broccoli.

“Captain, I suggest using potato land to smother the enemy. It’s effective in neutralizing their scent.” Shiro suggested between bites. He saw Keith dubiously eye the pile of mashed potatoes on his plate before slathering the broccoli in potato. Then he managed to wolf down the last head.

“Brilliant captain! Our potato farmers will live to see another day! As a reward, they off you a spoon of their land for wealth and prosperity.” Shiro cheered when Keith bounced excitedly in his chair.

“Well, I don’t care ‘bout wealth. But maybe we needs prop-erity?”

“Yes, I agree.” Shiro smiled, scooping up a spoonful of potatoes for Keith. Keith swallowed the bite eagerly and Shiro scooped up his own spoonful.

“Now, captain, there are still several healing chicken wings that haven’t been touched,” Shiro whispered, pointing towards the few chicken wings left.

“Hmm, we gotsta recharge for the next attack, right?” Keith rubbed his chin thoughtfully before looking up at his dad for confirmation. Shiro nodded happily and laughed.

“Yes, sir! They have a natural healing factor so you should be ready to go!” Shiro commented, watching with slight pride as Keith ate an entire chicken wing. He never thought that seeing his son eat would bring such relief to him.

“Also, make sure to combine your milk too, to strengthen your armor captain.” Shiro nodded over towards Keith’s glass of Pediasure. Keith nodded absently, still in the mist of eating his chicken.

A chuckle erupted from across the table.

“Not that I mind, but when did we break the rules of no playing with our food?” Kuro asked softly. Shiro looked away from his son to smirk over at his brother. Kuro had become a part of their dinner routine once a week since Kuro had returned home two years ago. Keith had grown especially close to his only uncle and demanded that Kuro visit them for dinner once a week. Kuro had been sure to keep that promise.

“Eh, since my boy got promoted to captain. He’s the best at defending our territory from yucky things like broccoli and instant ramen noodles.” Shiro teased as Kuro huffed.

“Hey! Not all of us are five-star chefs cadet.” Kuro grumbled, stabbing at his own potatoes. However, he didn’t continue with the matter and instead smiled at Shiro when Shiro busied himself with wiping Keith’s face.

He was well aware of the worry and fear Shiro had been through for the last few months. He’d called Kuro and their parents multiple times when Keith had first refused to eat. Since then, the Shirogane family had been involved with helping Keith every step of the way. Kuro was well aware of the dangers than Keith had faced by refusing to eat. He’d been told about Keith’s small height and weight and saw the pictures of Keith when Shiro had first adopted him. It had made him sick to see his nephew so tiny and sick, but he knew that Keith’s was in better hands the second that Shiro adopted him.

There was no one better to love and care for Keith.

And by turning dinner into game nights, only further proved Shiro’s place as Keith’s dad.

“Cadet Uncle Kuro! You have an army of peas trying to steal your healing chicken!” Keith suddenly cried. Kuro jumped out of his thoughts, frowning at Keith. There weren’t any peas left on his plate.

Just as he was thinking that Shiro (the bastard) had dumped two whole spoonsful of peas onto Kuro’s plate. Kuro stared at his brother with a look of horror while Shiro barely shrugged. As if to say, whoops, are you really gonna get mad at me in front of my baby boy?

Hands clenched around his fork, Kuro gritted his teeth to keep from frowning. Instead, he took a breath a smiled.

“Captain Keith, I will do my best to defeat the enemy and keeps the Shirogane wood table free of infested vermin that are peas.”

Despite the terrible taste of peas, Keith’s bright laughter was more than enough to keep Kuro quiet and enjoy his meal. Keith sure was special.

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yoongihime · 7 years

Text

Shape of You (M)

Model!OC x Photographer!Yoongi Length: 4.8K ..things got out of hand… Type: Three words drabble, birth from pure sin and thirst Recommended OST: (x) and (x) (a/n): “no really, this was me being a brat and thinking ‘hey how can I make this totally fluffy prompt into angst?’ and then it turned into sin. Must be the lack of sleep talking.” ….this was supposed to be a drabble…

Summary: Yoongi is not too keen on the fact that you, his muse, disappeared without a word two years ago. The two of you meet again at a casting, with Yoongi as the the photographer under the name SUGA. He’s livid, of course, but he can’t help the fact that he still remembers every curve and contours on your body.

Prompt By Anonnie: Sparkles, Petals, and Laughter (im sorry) Warnings: sex. sins. Yoongi being very naughty.

001. Sparkles

Pins and needles prickle at your skin from the intensity of his scrutiny, the thin hairs on your arm standing on end, delicate flesh underneath forming ridges that continue to spread throughout your entire body from your head all the way down to your toes. Tremors blossom in the form of the most minuscule shivers that gradually build up intensity until your entire frame is aquiver, soft waves that only accentuates how your body is gloriously bare for his twisted pleasure. You hate how he can still elicit this kind of response from your body—two years truly changes nothing.

Your mind is buzzing with wild thoughts, the confines of your skull barely holding in your mental fretting. Despite the current state of turbulence in your head, your body revels in the attention that he’s shamelessly bestowing, his gaze drifting, languidly studying his masterpiece. His cold eyes that are staring you down from two feet away glints with amusement, the dark orbs saturated in lust and rage. It ignites your defiance, fueling your veins with adrenaline, compelling you to stand your ground against his desire to watch you crumble.

Min Yoongi was not always the picturesque depiction of frigid hostility like he is now. In fact, you dare say he was quite warm, towards you at least. He was sweet summer days and gummy smiles, the faint sound of the camera shutter and the sparkles of the ocean reflected in his eyes, until one day you silently departed from his grasp— without a single note of consolation. Bittersweet, that’s what it felt like. You still remember the day you decided to leave, you knew it was better for the both his career and yours, a raising-star photographer and an aspiring model, what a pair the two of you were. But you had to leave, Yoongi had too much potential to be wasted on the premise that you were his only muse, so you brought a oneway ticket to nowhere; picking up some fame along the way.

Strange, how you find yourself back at square one with Yoongi in front of you and your ability to conjure words proving fruitless. Oh, how you wish you could go back in time, just twenty four hours backwards, so you could tell your manager Seokjin what a horrible, stupid idea it would be to audition to model for the most coveted photographer in New York City: SUGA. Little did you know that you would walk right smack into your beautiful nightmare.

He was silent through the majority of your audition, your portfolio gripped in his hands, his figure slouched into the sleek leather of the back sofa. Meanwhile, you were blissfully oblivious to the fact that SUGA is in fact the very person you’ve been avoiding for the past two years, chirping happily to any questions they prompted you with until his coworker patted the lazy photographer none too gently,

“Yoongi, you’re not going to say anything? Man, what happened to the savage that made two newbies cry in the dressing room yesterday?”

Familiarity rang in your ears then and you had a split second decision of dashing completely out the room, but not before-

“I’m going to have to ask everyone, except (y/n) to leave the studio.”

And that’s how you find yourself in this current predicament, with Yoongi staring you down like a panther stalking it’s prey and you, the careless gazelle that ran right into the hands of death.

Thick silence settles in the room and you take this opportunity to study the man in front of you just as he’s recording every detail of you.

His hair is black now, you note, the ebony locks curling slightly on his forehead, deliberately messy, making his milky skin all the more ethereal in the dim lighting of the small room. His hair used to be a radiant blonde, but you suppose he doesn’t need such a thing as eccentric strands to attract attention now. Everything from his eyes to his rosy lips drown you in nostalgia, they remain strikingly similar to fragments of your fading memories. Those nebulas, ever so expressive are concealed by the gold rimmed specs balancing precariously on the tall bridge of his nose. Black ink paints it way up from underneath his thin white t-shirt, the vines’ movements deliberate like brushstrokes and you realize that they depict cherry blossoms crawling up the right side of his neck. You allot a few seconds to let your mind wander towards what other tattoos may be adorning his body under the thin material, only to have your lascivious fantasies disrupted when Yoongi floats towards you, stopping a hair away, leaving just enough space to have you yearning to close such insignificant distance.

“So, what kind of excuse did you come up for me today, doll face?” he growls into the shell of your ear, causing you to whimper, the noise automatic in response to his sharp demand. He smirks at that, as if the visceral response from your body wasn’t enough of an indication of your desperation for his understanding.

“Go on, it must be good. You had two whole years to make it up after all.”

“Y-oongi,” you sigh out his name when he begins his maddening play, the coolness of his fingertips somehow drawing trails of fire across your skin. Yoongi fully smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, it has been awhile since he’s heard the soft, sweet sound after all.

“Did you miss me, doll?” he whispers, his fingers coming up to swipe at your lips, the pad of his thumb pressing down on the soft flesh. He studies your doe eyes, filled with so much conflict and apprehension, but most of all regret. It almost pains him to see you like this when both of you know the reason for your departure was anything but selfish.

Yoongi knows that he’s already forgiven you the moment you walked into the room, radiant, none the less, with a new persona so strong that he was shaken from your progress. Fear, it was eating at him that maybe you’ve moved on with your career, leaving him behind in the dust, however just as quickly as it came, the nagging emotion dissipated once he flipped to the beginning of your portfolio and there it was. There, right on the first page was one of his favorite photographs he took of you. He had taken it once upon a time, back when he received his own camera as a hand me down from his uncle; back when he didn’t know left from right and aperture from exposure. There you were, smiling at him with your monochrome profile, the light in your eyes not in the least dull even through the 2D surface. Yoongi knew it then as he knows it now. He knows that you, with all your fiery passion is his muse and he’s just as excited as a kid on Christmas day to have you in his grasp again.

Yet, the past two years have been a cruel winter, barren of you and he wants, no, he needs you to know that.

“I know I did.” he confesses, words heavy with hurt, but his secret only serves to rile you up, your heart singing in elation at the newfound discovery.

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, the motions causing his thumb to brush against the plushness of your lips and you wait with bated breath for his reaction only to find another chill running down your spine at the fractional darkening of his eyes and the sinister smile that is spread across his face.

“I know you are, darling.” he chuckles when your brows knit together, words finally bubbling up in your throat but he interrupts you before-

“I will need you to show me.” he grins, the innocent action giving no hints towards the workings of his mischievous mind. Cool silver presses insistently into your hips when he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you in so that your flushed skin brushes against the silken material of his blazer. Your reaction is immediate, wanting him closer, but just as you’re about to reach for him, Yoongi leans away and next thing you know, his back is to you and his distant shout registering-

“See you on set tomorrow, doll face .”

The kiss he pressed on your cheek tingles, a searing imprint of his lips on your reddening skin.

002. Petals

There’s something sensual in the way the silk is brushing your form, a cool rush that slithers against your exposed limbs, the scraps of lace barely serving their function on the curves of your body. The burning light shining on you is warm, nearly uncomfortably so, adding to your flushed state that was no doubt induced by the inquisitive lens a few inches from you and the photographer behind them.

It’s even more intimate than you can imagine, the connection between a photographer and his muse. Thick silence occasionally broken with the frail shutter, a resounding beep that signified the arrival of the photo on the MacBook, your shaky sighs and Yoongi’s hum of amusement are the only sounds that register to you as the rest of the studio fades out of focus. You feel starkly bare, not from the flimsy lace, but rather from the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze, augmented by the magnifying lens that are covering his expression from your viewing pleasure. Yet, the way his breaths come out in uneven pants, accompanied by his surprised gasps when you shift into a rather bold pose are just enough of a response to have you desperate to rile him up even more. Payback is a bitch, you muse and it’s with this notion in your mind that you defiantly stare into the lens, an attempt to drown him in the rapture that he placed you in just twenty-four hours prior to this session.

“Our genius photographer is rather quiet today.” you hum as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, brow arching and eyes twinkling: a perfect picture of invitation. Yoongi seems to pause at that, his lips twitching in a badly concealed show of his emotions, using the oscillating sounds of the shutter to answer for him.

Click.

“Our little doll is rather uncooperative today.” he replies, fingers stilling on the shutter and you fluidly shift to the next pose you’ve mentally lined up prior to the session.

Click.

You gasp in the form of mock shock,

“Why, I think I’m doing a great job, if I do say so myself.”

“We’ll see about that.” is his noncommittal response and you idly wonder what else this session will entail.

Click.

As it turns out, your imagination does not get too far into the possibilities of the session when trouble walks into the studio in the form of a golden boy by the name of Kim Taehyung. He’s a brilliant sight, with his tussled blonde locks and a boxy smile to match and you can’t help but feel enamored when he easily makes you comfortable with his booming laughter. He’s a ball of sunshine, to the point where you wonder if they scouted the wrong man for the job, that is, until he’s in front of a camera.

All hell breaks loose once he’s on set.

Taehyung is incredibly straightforward in his movements, so confident and assured as he presses petal-like kisses against the hallows of your neck, honeyed irises flashing with intentions so lewd you can physically feel Yoongi bristle behind the sanctuary of his camera.

“Closer.” Yoongi commands in his lazy drawl, as if he does not care about the already dwindling space between you and Taehyung. Pausing, you turn to search Yoongi’s cloudy expression for any hint of sarcasm, but your hesitance is cut short when two arms circle around your form to pull you closer. You nearly giggle at the way Yoongi displays regret of his own instructions with a frown when Taehyung pulls you onto his lap, the pair of you entangled in the most intimate of ways with measly layers of cloth covering your bodies.

Taehyung is a wonderful actor. Everything from his gaze, the slight graze of his teeth against your skin, to his whispered praises in your ear, they all melt you by the degree until you barely have to try to play the role of his lover. However, if Taehyung is the sun then Yoongi would be the ever constant moon, cold in his professionalism and detached to the point you feel a sharp sting at his chilling mannerisms.

The last click of the shoot resonates within you as you visibly relax in Taehyung’s grasp and watch as the friendly sunshine boy resurfaces in the form of round cheeks and eye crescents.

“Good job today (y/n)!” Taehyung giggles out, his nose brushing against yours as a form of affection. You’ve never seen someone change from five-year-old toddler to ranging sex god in a matter of seconds, but as expected of the modeling industry, they like to keep you on your toes.

“Good Job to you as well, Tae. I think you made it too easy for me.” you sigh into the plush comforter, fully stretching your spine out like a kitten after a nap. With your eyes closed, you’re relishing the warmth in your muscles when a slight shadow casts over your form and your eyes flutter open to find an impassive Yoongi, a tempest brewing behind his raven orbs.

“Go change (y/n), I can take you home.” he murmurs, eye drifting to Taehyung’s arm that you’re currently laying on.

“I can have Jin come pick me up. You don’t have to inconvenience yourself, Yoongi.”

He wordlessly hands you your phone, the screen flashing 1:38a.m. and a few messages from Jin.

Princess Peach [12:30a.m.]: “(y/n)! I’m so sorry love, but you’ll have to find a way home on your own. Big Emergency!”

You roll your eyes at “Big Emergency” because more often than not that just means he’s going to get dicked down by his boyfriend Namjoon. Yes, Big Emergency indeed Seokjin, you groan internally, not entirely pleased with the situation as you study the message on top.

Princess Peach [12:35a.m.]: “Have Yoongi take you home. At least I can trust the guy, but if he does I won’t expect you to be home in the morning. Be safe kids! ;)”

You face reddens at the realization that Yoongi most likely saw the text and his hushed chuckle is confirmation of the fact.

Momentarily clearing of your throat and one little huff of exertion later, you’re swinging your legs from the edge of the bed and straightening next to Yoongi, your breath stuttering when his cool palm slides around your waist to rest on your hip.

“G-good bye Tae, I’ll see you around.” you hate the stutter in your voice, absolutely abhor the airy quality that can only be elicited by the man drawing nonsensical patterns into your hipbone with his thumb.

“Goodbye, Darling” Taehyung purrs, tongue poking out to wet his lips and you’re all too aware of his intentions to test Yoongi’s patience when the elder tightens his hold on your waist and with a low grumble, ushers you out of the room.

003. Laughter

Frigid AC and his hand on your thigh, that’s all you register as the faint hum of his sleek engine roars with each press of his foot against the accelerator, tearing in the stillness of the early morning. Lights begin to blur as they pass at high velocity, swirling together into steaks of color that you fixate your gaze on in order to avoid staring at Yoongi’s sharp profile. Yet you know that you’ll cave eventually, you always do.

“Do you know the way to my apartment?” you’re the first to break the silence, glancing over at his hand on the wheel, the shapes decorating his arms and the blossoms caressing the side of his neck.

“No, but I know the way to mine, is that okay?” he answers, the hand on your thigh squeezing the tender flesh, his eyes now fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.” you cough out, the syllable being the only response your jumbled mind can muster, words sitting awkwardly in your mouth from the distraction on your thigh. Nervous laughter bubbling on your lips.

“That’s what I like to hear, kitten.” he gloats, clearly pleased with himself.

Min Yoongi, you brat.

The night seems to progress in the same silence, you watch patiently as he punches in his passcode and remain impassive as he leads you into the space. He lives on the top floor studio, the windows littered with lights gleaming from below and the buzzing of the city muted at this height. His space is just like him, sleek, minimal with not much sentiments in pictures decorating the wall except for his more abstract landscape pieces. Standing there at the ledge, you decide to take the leap when you murmur,

“Are you angry?”

Your question implies to more than the events of occurring today, but you truly need to know if he’s still upset over your abrupt absence.

Yoongi sighs, his slouched form straightening to stand a mere millimeters from you, the heady scent of his minty cologne making you crave to feel him under your fingertips.

“Yes and no.” he whispers, as if the silence is a creature not to be disrupted. He trails his right hand down to interlock your fingers, bringing your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss onto each of your knuckle, every brush of his lips causing your heart to drum faster and faster against your chest.

“I am angry,” he says before he reaches the last knuckle, “but I shouldn’t be.”

A kiss.

“I am sorry.” you squeeze his hand that is still interlocked with yours, “I missed you.” you confess, the memories rushing to your skull, causing a stray tear to slip from the corner of your eye.

“I missed you so damn much, but I had to be better than I was Yoongi. You of all people know that.” quiet tears roll down your cheeks. Memories of cold nights and sore feet, ridiculous diets and measurement tapes still weigh heavily on your mind, those were some of the most grueling years of you life, until Seokjin pulled you out of your hellhole of a company and back to your passion for the profession.

“Shh, babydoll. I know.” He soothes your hiccups with a kiss on the crown of your head, finally pulling you into his arms. You don’t let yourself indulge in his embrace for long because you reach with both hands to cup his face, pulling him down until your lips crash hungrily against his. He tastes like his mint gum and whiskey, a dark, addictive combo that has your tongue swiping against the seams of his lips for more. Feeling more than hearing his groan of surprise, you slip your hands around his neck, fingers intertwining with the stray locks there and tugging, earning you yet another groan.

“Babygirl, what are you doing?” he chuckles and halfheartedly nips at your earlobe in warning. As if of their own accord, your hands drift to the buttons in the front of his crips white dress shirt, deconstructing the seam one button at a time. You’re too focused on painting nebulas to accompany the cherry blossoms on his neck to pay attention to his question, but a much harsher bite on the curve on your shoulder snaps your attention back to his questioning stare.

“Making up for lost time.” you state in matter-of-a-fact fashion, returning the gesture with a soft nip to his earlobe, his array of silver earrings cool against your tongue.

“We have the rest of tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…” Yoongi utters, trying to convince himself more than you that the pair of you have all the time in the world.

“If you don’t want me anymore I can find someone else to occupy my time.” you sigh against the corner of his lips, enthralled by the way his mouth twitches in annoyance and his hands immediately tighten their hold on your waist, one of them so daring as to trail down and grip the curve of your ass.

“Say that again (y/n) and I promise you that you will regret being such an impatient princess.”

Pushing away from him entirely, you’re walking backwards towards the bedroom with Yoongi following close after as you smoothly recite,

“I said, Min Yoongi, if you don’t want me anymore I can find someone else to occupy my time.” the sentence barely leave your lips when he scoops you up in his arms, hands settled under your thighs and your legs locked behind his back. Slamming you into the closed door, you fell a dull ache at the rough action but the growing ache of your arousal is a more pressing manner in your lust clouded mind.

“Strip.” he says as he releases his hold on you, choosing to sit himself down on the edge of his bed, legs parted to palm his erection over his tight jeans. Working methodically, you first pull off the black long sleeve to reveal the white babydoll that the staff gifted to you from today’s shoot. The lace clinging to your breasts, showcases your budding nipples and billows off into soft ruffles which is accentuated by the pure white panties that are coming into view as you shimmy out of your jeans. Yoongi swore under his breath, here you are a picture of purity, yet so pliant under his commands. Maybe he was a sinner with the sole goal of corruption.

“Come here,” he motions and you immediate kneel in between his legs, soft lashes blinking up at him in question, “Beautiful.” he moans when you grab his belt, but is quick to slap your greedy hands away.

“Do you want to have a taste?” he questions, his head tilting along with the prompt and you’re left to wonder how much self control this man possess in his body. Mutely nodding, you’re met with a low tsk and his finger against your chin forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Your words, beautiful.”

“Yes I would love to have a taste of you, sir.”

“My what?”

A smirk.

Curse you Min Yoongi.

“Your cock, sir.”

A smile.

He unbuckles his belt at a torturous pace, each distinctive clink of the metal grating your nerves until Yoongi himself loses patience at his game and pushes his jeans and boxers down with a flourish and your mouth waters at the sight before you: Yoongi, his dark gaze pinning you to the spot with his milky skin on display, the black ink on the smooth surface only spurring you to explore the expanse of skin offered to you. His erection stands proudly against his stomach, red and leaking with drops of pearly white precum,

“Can I please touch you?” you whimper, holding your breath for his next move.

As a response, he cards his hand through your hair, gripping a fistful in his hands as he pulls you closer,

“No hands, baby.”

Nodding in understanding, you begin by giving him tiny licks before enclosing your lips around the head and pushing yourself down on his shaft, making sure to run your tongue along the prominent vein at the underside. Truly, the bitter taste and your watery eyes hold no particular value, but the way Yoongi is panting above you, his hands tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to have him whining from your ministrations is the reason your core is aching, the white of your panties turning translucent from your arousal. He pulls away with a pop when you start playing dirty by humming around his length, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he struggles to compose himself from the vibrations.

He offers no instruction but instead pulls you towards the mattress, pulling your body down on the mass of white and his body hovering above yours. Yoongi nearly loses all composure form seeing you like this; flushed and sweaty for him, embellished with delicate white lace, you’re the most sinful angel he has ever seen.

“God, how are you so beautiful to me?” he growls as he kisses his way down the length of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Calloused hands lift up your thigh as his kisses continue in rapid successions until he’s right at the edge of your panties, humming in approval at the soaking wetness he finds.

“You ruined your gift from today, doll.” he observes, lazily snapping the band of your panties against your hipbone, causing you to jolt in his hold.

“I suppose I’ll just have to buy you new ones.” he kisses his promise into the juncture between your thighs and your folds, his other hand sliding the ruined lace off and fulling drinking in the slight of you dripping for him.

“Yoongi, please.” you keen, the prolonged wait causing your nerve endings to spark with sensitivity. So when he flattens his tongue against your folds, the slick muscle eating you out in earnest, you wail and grasp onto his strands, nails digging into his scalp, his low groan of approval buzzing through your entire body.

“More, please please. Yoongi don’t stop.” you nearly bawl when he listens to your request and slips two fingers inside, choosing to purse his lips over your clit and suck hard. You’re a mess at this point, one hand gripping his hair the other clutching the comforter as Yoongi relentlessly continues with his sinful tongue and fingers, causing you to see stars within seconds. You lay boneless on his bed, the obscene squelch of his fingers leaving you causes you to shiver as the man himself lifts his hand to his mouth, deliberately licking off all traces of your pleasure.

“Yoongi, I need you.” you mewl when he kisses his way back up your body, trails of fire licking at your sweat covered skin.

“Such a greedy kitten.” Yoongi sighs, his weight abruptly disappearing from above you and you open your eyes in time to see him slip off his pesky dress shirt.

“Go on, princess. Take what you need. I want to see you work for it.”

Who are you to deny such a tempting invitation?

So you crawl over towards him, quickly straddling his lap and rubbing yourself on his length, the friction so delicious you forget your original goal as you moan softly, losing yourself in the skin on skin contact.

“Kitten, don’t tease.” he growls, his blunt nails digging into your hips.Your eyes snap open to observe how fucked out his looks, hair mussed and pupils completely dilated, breaths puffing from his rosy, bitten lips and you realize you cannot wait anymore either. With shaky hands you align yourself to his length and slowly lower yourself until you’re sitting on his thighs, his cock filling you up to the hilt.

“God, how are you so tight.” Yoongi groans, busying his mind by scattering marks on your collarbone. His hands scramble to pull the last bit of lace off your body, fingers skimming across the valleys of your breasts before taking one into his mouth. He stills completely when you begin to move, you hips drawing tantalizing circles against his, pulling him closer to his release.

“I’m close, Yoongi.” you cry when he thrusts up to meet your hips, the burning in your thighs and the thudding of the headboard evidence of your passionate session. Yoongi gives a short grunt as reply when he trusts even harder up into you, brushing against your bundle of nerves. Your breaking point is surpassed when he growls, “Come for me, kittten.” into the shell of your ear, his raspy voice always the object of your end.

Waves of bliss wash over your body, electric flashes of sensory overload that makes you clench tightly around him, coaxing him towards his own release. Yoongi comes with a shout of your name and warmth painting your walls, shallow thrusts working both you and him from your high.

In the afterglow, you find yourself tracing the patterns of his tattoos, marks of growth from when you two parted ways.

“I love you, you know?” you admit, staring into his glossy eyes, liquid pleasure still flowing in his veins.

He’s a masterpiece.

“I’ve never stopped loving you.” he answers and the sincerity in his eyes cannot be mistaken for a split second decision made by lust.

You’re his masterpiece.

Perhaps it’s the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins, or maybe the sheer joy in the moment but both of you burst out in laughter. A sweet kiss and many lingering touches forge your reunion and you’ve never been so content for a warm body next to yours.

Princess Peach [8:00a.m.]: I hope your Big Emergency was resolved (y/n) ;)

Me: [9:30a.m.]: You’re so dead once I get back.

#btswriters #kwritersnet #bts scenarios #suga smut #yoongi smut #bts #suga #my sugar #yoongi bear #IM SO SORRY EVERYONE I'M A FLUFFY BUN I PROMISE BUT IT'S 4AM SO I'LL COME AND DEFEND MYSELF TOMORROW THANK YOU BYE #I MUST BE INSANE #1 2 3 drabbles

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chaisexuality-archive · 7 years

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okay pls tell me if i'm overreacting. i really really cannot cope with things like dirty seats and park benches and insects, idk why but it literally makes me close to breaking down. so anyway today there are two bags of oranges in downstairs, so i bring one to my room and start peeling the orange. theres like insect egg looking stuff in there so i freak out and throw the bag in the bin and tell my mum. i literally deepclean my entire room down and change all the sheets and go have a shower(1/?)

and my mum knows this, she knows why im freaking out,like i literally cant cope with it it brings me to tremors and tears. so like hours later after ive finished deep cleaning everything, my little sister comes home and brings the 2nd bag of oranges up to my room. i freak out a little but know that she doesnt know why so i just ask her to get the bag out of my room pls. my mum comes in starts yelling at me, my little sister starts peeling the orange thing right on my bed and im literally (2/?)

in tears, my mum knows that i literally spent two hours cleaning everything and all she does is put the bag on my table and refuse to move it out of my room, and then starts to have a go at me for being 'ungrateful, your sister just wanted to share.' then she tells my entire family never to do anything for me ever again, and then my entire family just started having a go at me and calling me selfish bc shes spinning it all out of context and meanwhile im freaking out (3/?)

and then everyone just placed the blame on me and its so frustrating and i feel like i cant move my mind feels like its stuck on the oranges tounching my sheets and i feel dirty all over its actually horrifying and i'll have to change the sheets again (4/4)

you’re definitely not overreacting and i feel the same way with other objects and shit. im sorry your mother did that to you i know how awful it feels when parents take shit out of context to spin the blame on you. i have misophonia so certain sounds elicit the same reaction out of me and 99% of the time my family doesnt listen to me so ugh :// i hope ur okay now tho!

#i got mail #nonnies #long post /#food m /#im so shit at giving advice but ilu nonnie

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gayzytown · 7 years

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Birthdays

{{VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER!! i put it in caps bc thts how important it is!!! this is pure, unedited 12 yr old mod roria sportarobbie fanfiction !! u can tell its really old bc the whole time robbie is like >:’( and it makes sportacus :c also! robbie gets hit in the face and sportacus cries which is unfitting bc the fic itself isnt that sad?? but it has a happy ending!! just thought id warn you all im literally posting something really poorly written and its also rlly long and like almost 5 yrs old ?? one of the first things i wrote for lazytown!! but anyway here it is }}

Curled up in his chair, Robbie woke up and his eyes fluttered in sync with his heart and with the butterflies in his stomach. A tiny gleam of hope rose up in his chest, and a small smile graced his soft lips. It was finally the day. The day he had been waiting for. The day he had not-so-subtly hinted about since last month. He tried his best to stamp out the fiery optimism that held his heart in its grip, but the cold, icy hand of doubt could not pry it off.

His tired eyes glanced at the clock, which currently said 7:00 A.M. Earlier than Robbie had woken up in years, but now that warm feelings had him in a death grip, there would be no more sleeping. He rolled out of his chair with more enthusiasm than ever before, and pranced contently to his periscope. Before he looked into it, he took a moment to compose himself. It was in vain, of course, and it was with much euphoria that he lifted up the periscope and peeked through. His smile faltered slightly as the warm hand pushed his heart up into his throat. They didn’t… forget, did they? But he had made it so blatantly clear that it was today, and he had been looking forward to this day for weeks. The day he would get some of the spotlight. The day he could outshine Sportacus. The day he wouldn’t be ignored. The day he would be loved. Granted, tomorrow would be the same as every other day, but today was special. Today was his birthday, and it was going to be the best birthday ever. It was going to be the best day, in general, until next year.

Only slightly disheartened, he continued to search for anything. Even if he was a villain, it was highly uncharacteristic of the people of LazyTown to not celebrate. Suddenly, the hand squeezed his heart and the heat filled his entire being as a banner came into view. It clearly read, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY.” They had remembered! He tremored in excitement as he simply stared at the scene before him. What looked like an amazingly prodigious party being laid out before his eyes. For him. There were balloons and streamers and games, and even though it wasn’t the color he had expected and there was more sportscandy than he would’ve liked, it was a party for him. It was his birthday party. The people were celebrating his birth. They were celebrating the fact that self-proclaimed villain Robbie Rotten was brought into this world on this day, twenty-three years ago. To him, it symbolized much more than a birthday party. This could mean a whole turning point in his life. Maybe he wouldn’t be a villain. Maybe he wouldn’t be so full of hate. Maybe he’d be loved. Maybe he’d be happy. The pleasant optimistic grip shifted and held his entire body, and he closed his eyes for a moment to relish the feeling. A smile so foreign to Robbie that anyone wouldn’t be able to recognize him for a moment lightened up his face, and his cold, lonely lair felt more comfortable than ever before. His eyes, filled to the brim with happy tears that he had never felt, opened and his smile widened. Letting out a deep, booming laugh that echoed throughout the lair and brought raw joy and happiness to every room, he spun with his periscope and peered through one more time. The familiar icy hand clawed at its rival as he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. The banner said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY… Sportacus.” He shrugged as his smile faltered as he chuckled nervously. That didn’t mean they had forgotten his, maybe they both had birthdays. Or maybe they had gotten confused about who’s birthday it was. Maybe anything, except they had forgotten. They couldn’t have. Not after all he had done to make it clear that it was his birthday. Who cares about Sportacow’s birthday? They’d throw him a party for any little thing. The icy grip triumphantly pierced his heart with its long, disfigured claws and his brow furrowed. They couldn’t have forgotten. He’d just… he’d just go up and walk around. He was sure to get a “happy birthday” or two. They couldn’t have forgotten, it just wasn’t possible. His lair was suddenly cold, and the remaining laughter died away. He peered out one more time, and watched as Sportacus was taken completely by surprise because of his birthday party. Like he was really so surprised. They would’ve thrown him a party if he’d done something as minimal as walk to the post office. A single tear slid down his face, but it wasn’t happy. It was full of anguish, and fear. He felt so alone. The icy grip suddenly got red hot and in his fit of sudden rage, he clawed off the tear viciously, leaving a red mark on his face and he shoved the periscope away as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the momentum swung it back and it was hurled into his face. In a tantrum and between shock, pain, and anger, he stepped back on his catwalk and swung backwards over the railing onto his head. As the stars faded, he groaned and tried to get up, but the children had started playing exceptionally loud today and with the combined force of the impact a headache pounded in his head and he decided to stay where he was. He mumbled a small “I meant to do that,” before closing his eyes.

Meanwhile, Sportacus was having a lovely birthday party. Maybe a little of the surprise was faked, but it was mostly genuine. He didn’t remember telling anyone his birthday, but he was glad that they knew. The party had a banner, and games, and sportscandy and blue. Lots of blue. He played with the children with more energy than usual, if that was possible, and didn’t notice that they were louder than usual. After a while of playing, the kids were tired, so they all decided to take a break. He sat with them under an apple tree, listening to them talk about school and such. But something didn’t feel right. He felt like he was forgetting something, and that someone was in trouble. Everyone was here, except for… his brow furrowed. Robbie. He wondered why Robbie hated him, and his heart sank a little. But then he remembered that it was his birthday, and he smiled. He tried to forget the feeling, since his crystal didn’t go off. But he felt bad, and he wasn’t sure why but he did. Lately his thoughts on Robbie had been getting a little… different. He had never felt this way about anything before, and he didn’t know if it was good or if he had been coming down with something. He had never been sick before, so maybe this is what it felt like. He vaguely wondered if Robbie would come but was interrupted when Stephanie spoke up.

“Sportacus, are you okay? I’ve never seen you so serious before,” she said. He faked a smile.

“I was just thinking about Robbie,” he said, with fake happiness going unnoticed in his voice. She looked confused.

“Why?” she asked. Then, for good measure, she added, “He would just try to ruin the party. It’s your birthday, Sportacus!” His smile faltered slightly.

“Stephanie, do you know why people bully?” he asked. She shook her head no, and he went on. “Bullies are bullies because they’re unhappy with themselves,” he finished, a small realization hitting him as well as the children.

“Why would Robbie be unhappy? He usually seems so happy when he’s thwarting,” she asked, not wanting to believe that Robbie was sad, or lonely. It was so much easier to think that mean people got what they deserved, not that they were unhappy.

“Maybe he’s lonely, or maybe he’s been bullied himself,” he said. It suddenly became quiet, and he felt a little bad for putting such a damper on the mood. He jumped up suddenly. “Who’s ready to get back to our game?” he chirped, and the kids all cheered and followed him to the courts. They all put the conversation in the back of their heads, to be reviewed later. All of them, except for Stephanie. They played for another hour more when they were interrupted by a familiar figure stalking by faster than ever before. Sportacus, however was faster, and he flipped over a wall, grabbed his water bottle, and landed in front of Robbie. Robbie stopped and looked at him. Half of his face was covered by a huge, purple and blue bruise. But it wasn’t that that scared Sportacus. It was the look in Robbie’s eyes. Not only were they bloodshot, but Sportacus had never seen someone so incredibly angry, so livid. It scared Sportacus, and he stepped back a bit. It was suddenly quiet and the silence hurt Sportacus’s ears, so he decided to say something.

“Hi, Robbie,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Won’t you join us? It’s fun.” A look of sadness and confusion passed over Robbie’s face, but he said nothing. The silence was louder than before, the atmosphere was more tense and almost angry. But that didn’t scare Sportacus. The thing that scared Sportacus was his feelings. Robbie was completely outraged, and it was Sportacus’s fault. He had done something, and it hurt his heart more than anything ever had before. His heart burned as the fiery claw from Robbie’s heart reached through the two men and crushed Sportacus. He felt so hurt. His heart was hurt. His heart was broken, and he had never felt that way before. It absolutely crushed him. But on the outside, he feigned happiness.

“Uh, um, Robbie! It’s time for a water fight!” he chirped, back flipped away, grabbed a hose and the kids scattered into a panicked mass of children, giggling and squealing excitedly. Sportacus stole a glance at Robbie and his heart broke even more. He didn’t seem mad anymore, just sad, lonely, and so distant from everyone else. His brow furrowed despondently and he glared towards Sportacus. They made eye contact and he suddenly bristled, standing up straight and putting on a fake resentful face, before turning around and stalking away. Sportacus’s face fell and the hose slipped out of his grip. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, because heroes don’t cry, so he faked another smile, laughed and picked up the hose again. His little moment went unnoticed by everyone and the party continued as if nothing had happened.

That night, Sportacus was in his airship, thinking about earlier. His heart hurt still. It felt sore, like that one time when he was just a kid and he worked his muscles too hard and they ached. It was his birthday, so he shouldn’t be sad, but Robbie’s face. He wondered what was going on in Robbie’s head. Suddenly, he remembered that Pixel, for his birthday, had given Sportacus a little computer thing that had lap or something in the name, and it had information on the people of LazyTown if he just pushed a button. Leaping up off his bed, he opened up the computer and looked at it. It had lots of buttons, some of which Pixel had explained, but Sportacus didn’t remember, so he looked at it. Some of the keys had letters, maybe he could type stuff. He spelled “ON” on the keyboard. Nothing happened. He picked it up and looked for a switch on it, or something, but found nothing. One of the buttons was bound to turn it on, so he pushed all of them, and one of them did something because the screen lit up, then it had a picture on the screen of LazyTown with little tiny things on it. They looked like icon, and one of them said “LazyTown”, so he poked it. Nothing happened. “What..?” he murmured, then he remembered the thing. Pixel called it a… a mouse? Yes, a mouse, so he clicked it. Nothing happened. Frustrated, he grabbed it and moved it aggressively across the table back and forth. Something on the screen moved with his motion and he stopped. Slowly, carefully, he moved the mouse so that the cursor moved to the little LazyTown icon, and then he clicked the button on top, and a page opened, and a little box was there. He slowly clicked a button on the keypad and a little tiny “K” showed up in a little box. Pressing the backspace so that the K disappeared, he slowly typed in “ROBBIE ROTTEN” and pressed enter, not sure what he was looking for. A small blue thing showed up that said “Robbie Rotten” and had a sentence that ended in “…read more here” and he began to read it.

“Robbie Rotten; born on October 10th, [year unknown] in [place unknown] and went to [school unknown]…”

Sportacus realized they knew so little about Robbie, and he frowned slightly. Suddenly it hit him. October 10th. That was today. They had missed Robbie’s birthday. Maybe that was why he was so sad… Robbie came up, probably looking for a “happy birthday” and instead he got people celebrating someone else’s birthday and completely forgetting about him. He felt absolutely crushed. His heart was breaking even more, and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They flowed freely from his eyes, and he bit his lip thinking about what he could do. Closing the laptop, he picked up his phone and clicked Bessie’s number. He had gotten the phone a while ago from Pixel and he knew very well how to work it. Well, not really, but he could call certain people when he needed to, which he hardly ever did. Bessie answered suddenly.

“Sportacus? Are you okay? It’s past 8:08, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Oh, hi Bessie! Everything’s fine, I just wanted to say that, uh… Robbie’s birthday was, um… We missed it, and I wanted to make it up to him. Somehow,” he mumbled.

“…Oh! How sad… I understand that you’re upset, I’ll pull something together for tomorrow, and it might be a little… modest, but I think it’ll be good. As long as you can get him to come,” Bessie said.

“Thanks Bessie! I’ll get him to come, thank you!” Sportacus said. Then, he hung up the phone and got back into bed. He felt a tiny bit better, but he felt weird. He felt guilty. Sighing, he turned over in bed and pulled the cover over his head, knowing he wouldn’t get any sleep.

Then next morning Sportacus woke up bright and early and slid down the ladder to LazyTown and ran to the center. It was empty, of course, because he was up so early, but he decided to see if Robbie was up.

Filled with a new found enthusiasm, he trotted to the purple billboard and waddled around it. He found the metal entrance to Robbie's domain and knocked, a smile on his face. He heard muffled thumping and mumbled curse words before the latch opened and he was face to face with a black and blue mess with piercing grey-blue, bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing Sportacus, his brow furrowed and his lip quivered.

"What do you want, Sportacus?" he hissed. Sportacus was usually elated to hear the lithe man say his name and not some morphed, insulting version of it, but in this case it wiped the smile off his face. He didn't like it when his name slid from Robbie's lips like venom, dripping poignant enmity. He suddenly forgot why he was here.

"Uh... um, I..." he stuttered. Robbie reached for the hatch to slam it when Sportacus abruptly remembered. "Wait! Robbie, your birthday," he exclaimed. Robbie stopped, and held the hatch up, eyes wide with shock. His brows suddenly dropped, and he clamped his mouth shut.

"Oh, you remembered," he said sarcastically. Sportacus swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Robbie, I'm really sorry we forgot," he said softly, "but if you would just come with me, I think I can make it up to you!" Robbie scoffed at this.

“No, Sportacus.”

“... what?”

“I'm not going to your stupid little last-minute birthday party!”

Sportacus was quiet. He felt like crying, and so he did. “Robbie, please! I-I'm so sorry we forgot, I can only imagine how much it hurt to see everyone celebrating someone else's birthday on your own but if you just give me a chance,” he grabbed Robbie’s face in his hands, “I could show you…” he stopped. He realized he was blushing, with his face so close to Robbie’s. He stared deep into the man’s eyes and saw that he was lonely, and afraid. From here he could better see the beautiful color of Robbie’s eyes, his pale skin, his wavy hair, his soft lips. Sportacus longed to touch the soft lips with his own. His breathing sped up as he realized this was what he had been feeling, he was in love with Robbie Rotten.

“Sp-Sportacus…” Robbie mumbled, placing his own hands on the elf’s. Sportacus barely heard it over the sound of his heart racing. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. He stared into the man’s eyes lovingly, and then he leaned forward. Closing the gap between the two, he gently pressed his lips into Robbie’s. Robbie gasped against Sportacus’s mouth and his grip tightened on the elf’s hands. Sportacus pulled away slowly after a moment, and pressed his forehead against his love’s. It was quiet.

“If this is y-you trying to get me to g-go to the party,” Robbie started. Sportacus laughed.

“Robbie, I love you,” he said softly, looking up at the man. Robbie was looking at him, eyes wide. He was blushing.

“Sportacus, I… I never…”

Sportacus drew away. He had made Robbie uncomfortable. He was blushing, not the light, tender, sweet pink hue of love, but a deep, embarrassed red.

“Oh, Robbie, I'm sorry, I never stopped to think about-”

Robbie leaped out of the silo/entrance to his house and grabbed Sportacus’s hands.

“Don't apologize,” he whispered, then added, “I'll go to the party.” Sportacus brightened instantly.

“You will!! Robbie, that's great! I'm so happy you-”

Robbie interrupted him by pressing his mouth against the elf’s. Sportacus’s eyes widened in shock, but after a second they slid closed and he leaned into Robbie, running a hand through the man’s hair. Eventually Robbie pulled away. He gazed into Sportacus’s eyes, infatuated. Sportacus placed a gentle kiss on Robbie’s nose and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the center of town. Maybe Robbie’s life would turn around after all. Maybe he would be happy from now on. Maybe this would be the best day he'd ever had.

((its rlly angsty and i said “brow furrowed” like 7 times))

#mod roria's trash heap #gosh this is bad but i thought u all should know started from the bottom now we here #sportacus #robbie rotten #im not taggin it anything else im too busy c r y i n g

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jelanisaeed · 5 years

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Ocean Shipping: First Impressions

First impressions—more like permanent introductions. Strangers utilized these mere glimpses of personality to decide who people were. Their life stories? Constructed without a second thought. Motives? Already defined by their first vocal tone. No one escaped this scrutiny, but Turquoise hoped one day he would.

First impressions always gave him great anxiety. Part of it because he never had a great track record with people. Odd, huh? All his friends assumed he made friends easy! With the way he gravitated to others. Plus, his friendship with Jasper and Ammolite spoke for itself. They were his best friends and they grew close within a few months of knowing each other! And his fellow Pokédex Holders? Easy most times!

Shame it was never this smooth with outside people.

Either he gave off too much of himself or too little. No in-betweens and grey just extremes to burn bridges or push them away. Part of him never understood it. Perhaps it was his eyes? Paxton always told him they reacted to his emotions.

Turquoise frowned, staring into the mirror. His vibrant, sky blue eyes reflected clear skies on his best days. Days filled with joy and excitement drew people in and left them prancing before him. His worst, however, were gray skies and powerful storms. A maelstrom—Paxton had called it one time—with terrifying power. Those days never gave him the results he craved.

But it couldn’t be just his eyes. No, too simple.

Was it his smile? Nah, that couldn’t be it. Paxton always said his smile brightened up the world. Dragged people to heaven with its radiance and slayed the darkness plaguing them.

“Then why did he walk away?” Turquoise sighed. He continued twisting his hair, but he couldn’t help the pit swelling in his soul. And when it finally sprouted wings, he winced. Those deadly wings rattled his bones and poisoned his thoughts. Negativity, he realized, leaked from its touch and he scowled.

He shouldn’t do this. Years of experience told him dwelling never brewed well for him. It poisoned him worse than others. Because his powers took over. Thrusting his emotions into a wild frenzy as they screeched for a resolution.

Yet here he was. Sitting in the dark and twisting his hair for the fun of it. A distraction, he amended. The perfect distraction at first, but it only served to remind him of what he lost. And as he sat at his desk he saw nothing of the man he was. Only a broken husk falling apart at the seams.

“He left…just like everybody else.”

Granted, their first impression wasn’t perfect. Getting one’s emotions manipulated by Reuno and then defeated by Motha wasn’t what many called a friendly encounter. And for him to enter the scene dripping wet with puffy eyes and a cold heart.

It wasn’t the best, I’ll give ‘im that, he scowled, finishing another twist. But I thought all the time we spent together made up for it.

The laughs, smiles, adventures. They spent months together as a couple seeing all Sinnoh had to offer. And stole every opportunity to kiss and love. Never far apart, but these days made standing across the room like mountains of separation. A spike to the heart when its only weeks before their anniversary.

Then again, they broke up on an anniversary.

“How you meet is how you lose ‘em,” he sighed. Shame the mirror couldn’t grant him the wisdom he craved. Just some parting words on how to recover from a heartbreak. “Met in pain, left me worse.”

Turquoise finished his last twist with a scowl. Heartbreak was no worse than loosing family. A piece ripped away until someone filled the vacant spot. But who? Paxton’s departure only widened it. And no wound benefited from such exposure. The cool, brisk breeze became irritating and simple pleasures like eating only served to further burn his soul.

(Turquoise,) Miso nuzzled his cheeks and smiled. The sly misdreavus had always been a mystery to him. All ghost-types were. His empathetic abilities always attracted them to him but never got a perfect reading on them. An emotion just off-center. Or memory just a little diluted. Something always interfered with the signal.

(Are you okay?)

Okay? The emotions burning through his heart told him that wasn’t the correct answer. And the deep pain stabbing his chest told him lying wasn’t either. But it was tempting. Lying never failed to eliminate the issue for the moment. Even if came back to haunt him. Like an addiction, it craved more and more until it drained him dry and left him dirty.

“No, I’m not,” he smiled, but the pain never left. He pulled Miso into a hug and sighed. Miso’s ghostly form provided the right amount of comfort he desired. “But thank you for being here.”

Sometimes hugs solved all the worlds problems. And Miso gave some of the best. Without arms of his own though, he became Turquoise’s squishy pillow. A perfect remedy for a bad day as a kid.

(I’m here for you always, silly empath~!) Turquoise felt the grin on Miso’s face before the sly guy phased out of his arms and circled around him. The negative emotions in his heart faded away and Miso’s necklace shined with vibrant energy. He heard misdreavus feed on fear, but perhaps they felt on all kinds of emotions as well.

Either way, Turquoise loved having him around.

“Turquoise,” a new voice echoed in the room. And it was the last person he wanted to see. Turquoise craned his neck and found himself staring into deep brown eyes. Deep brown eyes attached to a rich, ebony body toned from years of swimming. Clear from his brazen attire of black and blue swim trucks, purple water shoes, and the white towel hung around his neck. Meanwhile, he lazed around in his pajamas.

“I heard what happened…you good?”

Of course, he heard about it. Jasper must have told him. Not that he’d complain. Jasper only sought to help, and it was for the best. One less conversation he had to have.

“Not really,” he muttered and turned back to the mirror. He began untwisting his hair, but never took his eyes off Navy’s face. Poor guy looked uncomfortable. Navy never worked well with emotional situations. And Turquoise knew his emotions leaked through the whole room until it smelled of him.

“But I’ma be fine…I guess.”

“Don’t lie to me,” A scowl marred Navy’s handsome features. He stalked over to Turquoise’s desk and leaned his back against the frame. This became an interesting game of avoid the eyes. Turquoise played the game well, keeping focused on his hair and the mirror. But Navy was relentless. He stared and even glared, hoping for some reaction!

Turquoise felt bad for not giving it to him.

But he couldn’t. Not now at least. He only kept himself bust and moved onto the next twist. A hard game, but Turquoise did his best to win.

So, they stood in awkward silence for moments. Turquoise didn’t know how long it took, but he knew Miso enjoyed every second of it. The little ghost laughed long and loud before he took off. Probably to sleep or something.

“Turquoise…talk to me, please! We’re friends, right?”

Friends. Turquoise scowled and finished undoing the last twist. Friends became a lonely title when the heart yearned for more. Just a chance to be loved and supported.

Maybe he needed a redo of his first impression with himself.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Turquoise sighed, finally meeting those drowning eyes of his. “This look good?”

Navy snorted but nodded without question. “You never looked bad,” he smiled, ignited a blush across Turquoise’s face. “Never could.”

Paxton’s first encounter might have been bad. But it never held a candle to Navy’s. That encounter was horrific.

Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. They met in a crash and entanglement of limbs at the swimming pool. Turquoise laying on Navy’s chest as they fought to recover from the burning pain in their skulls.

And, when they finally recovered, they just…stared for a moment. Awkward as their eyes met and lips only inches apart. Turquoise remembered well the full blush spreading across his skin as he stumbled for an apology. But he didn’t need to.

Navy had already acted and sealed the deal with a kiss.

Turquoise laid there blushing, desperately trying to get his brain under control. But his emotions spiraled out of his control. Worse than a maelstrom. But better than the apocalypse.

Navy only smirked, but a blush burned against his beautiful skin now. And his cocky smirk turned dopy as he sneaked his arms around Turquoise’s hip.

“Yo,” he spoke in a smooth baritone. Though, more like a gentle wave to Turquoise’s ears. Turquoise fought to form words, but they all withered away before they reached his lips. “I’m Navy.” Even his name sent shiver down Turquoise’s spine. But a cool chill as the letters splashed against his bones and his resistance weathered down. “You gon kiss back?”

A bold man to this day.

Though he brought out only the best in Turquoise. For once, he forsaken his qualms and kissed him. One peck became two before they crashed their lips together and fought for victory. Fingers intertwined, and hips rocked against one another.

Turquoise never thought of himself as a sexual being. But with Navy, he discovered a fire inside of him. And when they stopped, the fire burned for more.

As first impressions went, he supposed to could’ve been worse. But never had he experienced such desire.

“You comin’ outta your room today?” Navy grinned, toying with his necklace. “We miss you out there, ya know.”

“I…dunno,” he frowned, ripping his eyes away. Outside seemed so dangerous. More obstacles and weapons homed on his heart. And he wasn’t certain how much more it could take. “Kinda wanna be alone.”

“Oh? So, you want me to leave?” Navy shrugged and got up. The sight made his heart burn as Navy’s eyes closed and he stretched out his arms. “Well, it’s been real, I guess. Don’t stay in here all day though. Ya need some fresh air. New perspectives and all that.”

Navy took his leave. And Turquoise watched every step. Each press against the floorboards sent a tremor through his heart. The further Navy walked, the stronger the pain. His lip quivered, and eyes prickled. But he couldn’t find the words. Or the will to beg. Just a chance to release himself this never-ending fairy tale of heartache. A new life of happiness where he stood in control and no one could harm him again.

The door creaked, and Turquoise felt his heart skip a beat. Navy looked back at him as the bright light illuminated the dark room. And he smiled. A small, peaceful smile.

But Turquoise saw the truth beneath the surface. Navy’s hurt and pain wedged deep in Turquoise’s soul and froze over into a dangerous icicle.

“Don’t forget ‘bout your friends, ‘ight?”

Friends. Something inside of Turquoise snapped and the tears fell. Twin rivers of sadness cascaded down his hazelnut skin worse than a babbling brook. For the first time in days, he cried out loud and hard. Vision blurred, and muscles trembled. He let all his emotions flow into the powerful stream.

“Navy,” he choked out from his broken and stricken voice. He looked up, but only saw a shifting silhouette before he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, don’t go,” he sobbed. His trembling arms wrapped around himself, but he couldn’t provide the warmth he needed. “I feel so cold.”

Frostbitten from the pain gnawing at his chest. No, his heart. It bit away at his lifeline and reached for more. And Turquoise couldn’t stop it. It ignored his begging and pleading and clawed at his defenses.

This wasn’t his first impression with heartache. But everyone told him it got easier.

Yet, here he was. He pushed away his friends, family, and pokémon for what? What did he gain from forsaking his responsibilities? Nothing but this heartache.

But how could he function knowing his ex-boyfriend gave his love away to another?

…And it’d be a lie to say he didn’t do the same.

“Tur, please don’t cry.” Warm arms wrapped around him and he flinched. But the grip tightened and pulled him out his chair. He stood there in Navy’s embrace, head resting on his chest as the rivers flowed faster. Rough waters, he sighed and looked up into those soothing, deep brown eyes.

“You know I don’t know to help with that.”

His first impressions of Navy told him the story of a lustful deviant who sought only to distract Turquoise from his goals. A tough guy who cared little for others and acted only in his best interests.

And they were wrong. Had he read those deep brown eyes, he’d know the truth. The true Navy stood as a sensitive being with grand emotions like him. Emotions vaster than the oceans and a heart heightened by its crushing pressure.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Navy smiled and drew circles around Turquoise’s back. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Turquoise looked up into those mesmerizing eyes the best he could. And he smiled through the tears. First impressions weren’t everything. And they would’ve made him miss out on the great person Navy was.

“Stay the night?”

#Pokemon #Pokemon Adventures #Fanfiction #LGBT #Romance #prose #Ocean Shipping #Pokemon Adventures: Oneshot Edition

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