#nothing will come close to the vibes on the original but i hope this is funny too
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What a bunch of weirdos amirite
Back at it again with the redraws, its been that and some new-ish doodles, not even the new tablet can save me from the remnants of burnout
PLATONIC PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS SHIP
#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rottmnt casey jones#casey jones#cassandra jones#rottmnt raph#digital paint#glad i finished it bc i rly wanted to do this#nothing will come close to the vibes on the original but i hope this is funny too
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Jax-in-a-box Part 2
warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax
note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this.
A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~
request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request.
So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.
While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.
The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.
You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.
The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.
The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.
“You have fucking legs?!”
You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”
Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…
How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?
He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.
“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”
You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.
Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”
“Then stop calling me Jack.”
He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.
“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”
“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”
It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”
“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”
A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”
Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”
“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”
Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”
That was a good question.
You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.
Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…
“Penny for your thoughts?”
You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.
“I take that back, sit your ass down.”
“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.
“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”
“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”
Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”
Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.
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Idk about y'all but Lee Know seems like someone who puts on the bad boy, “dom” façade until someone comes along to put him in in his place. He gives me bratty vibes, I feel like he'd refuse to completely give the power to someone else that is until they tame bratty!Minho.
Smut under the cut!
Word Count: 427 (basically a drabble)
A/N: Over the past two weeks I've had nothing but brain rot about Sub!Minho. So here is this, I hope y'all enjoy this originally took me five hours to write but Tumblr closed the app as I was writing this and lost some of the original content, and I kept going.
Warnings: Dom!reader, edging, brat!Minho, gender neutral, Degredation, Name-calling, Sub!Minho (mayhaps missed some?; idk let me know)
(Constructive criticism is appreciated as well as comments and reblogs since liking doesn’t really do much.)
I feel like he'd be secretly into degradation and gets off on being called, “cum slut” and his partner saying, “What would your fans think of you, Minho?” he'd be looking up at y/n with a scowl on his face all while feeling the tightening of his cock. Thinking about how his body could betray him like this, y/n would roughly dig their fingers into his pretty cheeks as they get on his level and mock him, “aww, is my pretty boy upset?”.
“Your face says one thing, but your mind and body say another. Am I not right?” He remained quiet. “Answer me when I'm talking to you.” Y/N hissed. He looked directly into Y/N's eyes, “No you're not.” he snapped back. Y/N stared in disbelief. “Oh, is that so?” she grabbed a fistful of Minho’s hair pulling his neck back as a low moan escape his lips. Y/N's hands made their way into his pants grabbing his swollen, sensitive cock. Y/n’s slid their thumb over Minho’s precum-covered head and pumped him slowly. Minho’s whines clearly showed how much he enjoyed being manhandled.
“What would your fans think about their favorite idol being a submissive, little cum-slut?” He was hoping Y/N wouldn't see right through him. Minho noticed Y/N get closer to him, “I bet, your fans would think you're a disgusting pervert, isn't that right?” she feigned a smile. A low moan slipped out of him in agreement as he gripped the sheets underneath him, fuck. His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly with each pump and the pleasure was beginning to cloud his mind.
Y/N noticed how easily he was coming undone and was cherishing how fucked out he looked with his lips gaping open, Minho looked delicious and Y/N wanted to punish him for snapping back earlier. And so Y/N did, the slow pumps turned into rapid ones and a high-pitched cry escaped him. “Fuck, please...” he trailed off, “Use your words.” Y/N demanded. He hummed in pure bliss fighting between his cock and his smart mouth but he couldn't, his moans were becoming more pathetic and he felt weak as his core begged for release.
“I’m cum-” Minho’s release was cut short and sobbed as he no longer felt y/n’s hand on his throbbing cock. “No, don't do this. Please let me cum.” He begged desperately as he felt tears rolling down his cheeks. “That’ll teach you to talk back to me, whore.” Y/n said as they left him high and dry on the mattress looking completely disheveled and exposed.
Tags: @taehyungsgrowl
#sub!idol#sub!lee know#sub!skz#dom!y/n#dom!reader#skz drabbles#skz smut#sub!minho#lee know#lee know x reader#ximes’ inferno#sub!kpop#skz x reader#lee minho x y/n#lee minho smut#femdom!reader
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Fluff Headcanons - Spooky gaming with the genshin characters!
A/N: The fluff version of the Halloween special, and a bit of a new format. I hope you enjoy!
C/W: Modern AU, swearing, game-typical violence.
Alhaitham
This year, Alhaitham wanted something less conventional. Something that would really engage his mind with interesting commentary about society and the world at large, but still retain some of that spooky vibe.
Cruelty Squad easily caught his attention with its assaulting graphics and interesting premise. It clearly begged for attention, and he was willing to humor it.
It was precisely what he was looking for, and what an answer it was. Alhaitham had no trouble adjusting to a more corporate mindset.
Alhaitham: The super AI emerges from an extremely pornographic ultra hyper suck and fuck…
Kaveh: Um… What? What are you talking about?
Alhaitham: You don't understand, Kaveh. Everything that surrounds us? It's Gorbino's Quest. The Gorbino's Quest... of life.
Ganyu
The poor little cinnamon roll isn't that much of a horror fan. Violence and death generally unsettles her, but Ganyu still wants to feel some of that holiday spirit.
After a lengthy deliberation, Ganyu chose Little Nightmares. The graphics are quite pleasing to the eye, it is horror, but not so horrible and violent. At least that's what she heard.
Ganyu: Oh, look! It's a Nome, right? And it's offering me food… How nice of it! Um… Oh n-no! Why would you d-do that?!
Amber
The great outdoors with a horror theme? Count her in!
Amber made sure to avoid spoilers to have the full, unprecedented The Forest experience. The landscape is so serene and peaceful… The freedom of movement, the sounds of nature and the survival elements are so fun and relaxing!
True, there are some hostile people on the island, but they seem harmless enough.
Until the night falls…
Amber: Wait… What's that? That doesn't look human… Did it just birth out… Ew… Yikes! It's coming at me!
Suffice to say, Amber stuck around until more or less the moment when you have to chop up bodies and make effigies out of the parts.
Beidou
Alcohol, hard rock and murdering demons with big guns is how Beidou plays on Halloween, so she'll gladly hop on Doom Eternal.
There's nothing better than impaling a snake demon's head with its own broken arm, right as the beat drops.
Beidou: Life has enough undefeatable horrors. Let's just have some fun tonight!
Ningguang
The old ones are the good ones! Ningguang doesn't play a lot of video games, but she did like a few titles back in her younger days.
On this special occasion, Ningguang got a box of her old possessions to dig through, and found the original Dungeon Keeper on CD.
Everything is just as she remembered it was.
Ningguang: Oh, these imps… They are the perfect workers, aren't they? They don't eat, sleep, need vacation, have a social life, and they work harder when you slap them. Ah, if only I had them as my subordinates…
Keqing: *narrows eyes*
Kokomi
Another fan of the retro side of games, Kokomi enjoys a good tactical challenge - developing the ability to conjure small scale plans is as important as improving the grand ones.
Her pick is Myth II: Soulblighter. It’s a brutal, unforgiving RTS with a distinctively dark atmosphere - just perfect for the season at hand.
Even when Halloween comes to a close, Kokomi will find it hard to drop the game. The insanity that is Legendary is quite addictive indeed…
Kokomi: You here… You here… And now the crescendo!
Game: “Move here move there…”
Game: “Catch!”
Game: *explosion*
Game: “Casualty.”
Kokomi: Oh. Change of plans, I guess…
Yae Miko
Upon hearing of the wonderful possibilities for tormenting the other party, Miko didn't hesitate to bring out the Mora for Dead By Daylight and all of its DLC.
Though it was quite fun at first, the ugly nature of the game soon surfaced. As none of her friends were brave enough to delve into this swamp, she was forced to join up with random people, who frequently threw the games.
Such a combination was enough to make even such an ancient and wise kitsune lose her absolute cool.
Ei: Why are you crouching behind that tree, Miko?
Miko: The killer has caught one of my teammates, and I will release them by ambushing them with a flashlight!
Miko: Come on… Now! You didn't expect that, did y- What?? Lightborn?! Again?! Who even plays it nowadays?! Oh, you daft, blind motherf-
Ei: Miko!
Miko: Oh… Hm. Sorry. I got a little carried away. But that's sooo unfair, isn't it? Why would they add a perk that cancels a whole mechanic? I can't believeitthegameissokillersided…
Xiangling
Xiangling absolutely didn't look forward to Halloween, especially with Hu Tao around. She just can't take horror, at all, of any kind, ever. Especially jumpscares.
She still couldn't believe that she agreed to play a horror game, let alone one suggested by the director. The one and only Five Nights At Freddy's at that.
Much to Hu Tao's amusement, she didn't even make it past Night 1. Xiangling was thoroughly spooked, and after being jumpscared once she completely refused to keep playing.
Seeing Xiangling so terrified made Guoba very upset, and Hu Tao quickly apologized to avoid being roasted by the angry god.
Hu Tao: So he killed the kids, but then! Their souls escaped their robot prisons and made an old spring lock suit crush him to death! WoOoo~
Xiangling: Ah! Hu Tao! No more!
Guoba: Nane na! Grr…
Hu Tao: Oh, don't fret little Guoba! I'm just joking!
Zhongli
Morax always had trouble catching up with the latest cultural and technological trends of the humans. Sure, he can use a computer more than well enough, but he finds third and first person video games confusing. The gameplay is most often too fast and rapidly changing for him to be up to speed with it, let alone enjoy it.
Throughout all of his exponentially long life, nobody was as persistent in including him in the festivities as Hu Tao. She tried to convince Zhongli to play something horror-related, but he was assertive. So, the director decided to find a game that would suit his liking - an indie title.
Her pick fell on Water Womb World - it's simple mechanically, is quite disturbing and has an interesting concept.
Much to her surprise, Zhongli thoroughly enjoyed his fifteen minutes with the game, even if he didn't find it very scary.
Zhongli: Ah, I agree with the message of this title. The blind belief in deities can lead to fanaticism, which breeds regress rather than progress. I do think that a more healthy and critical approach to Rex Lapis' rule would be beneficial to our current day society. Especially that the age of gods draws to an end…
Hu Tao: Aiya! Do you have to turn everything into a lecture, Zhongli? You're not my grandpa, are you?
Hu Tao
An avid enjoyer of the spookfest, Hu Tao decided to pick something hitting closer to home this year - Mortuary Assistant.
The gameplay loop feels great! Just like in her line of work, just without the smell. She's having the time of her life preparing the corpse for burial. And hunting the demon. That's also quite cool!
Hu Tao: *hums while wheeling the corpse into the crematory*
Game: "Are you sure?"
Hu Tao: Yup! I know your tricks more than well. Aiyaya, you could try something more interesting next round! Furnace time~
Game: *sounds of fire and demonic screaming*
Hu Tao: Toodle-oo~
Bennet, Noelle, Fischl, Razor
A few weeks before Halloween, Bennett mentioned a game night, since he couldn't be there in person. Noelle, diligent as ever, picked this up as a cue to start looking for something.
Luckily for her, Phasmophobia was on a large and affordable discount, so after proposing the idea and organizing a money pool, they all got to proving the existence of ghosts.
Lisa lent Razor her personal computer for the night, on condition that she could take a little peek every now and then at their session without interrupting - and what an amusement it was, as none of them are especially acquainted with horror.
Noelle: "The ghost responds only to people who are alone." Somebody has to go in to talk to it…
Razor: Razor won't go! Ghost scary!
Bennett: I would go, but with my luck, the ghost will eat me right away…
Fischl: Hmph! Although yes, I, Fischl, The Prinzessin Der Verurteilung and the founder of The Immernatchreich possess the courage to face demons and spawns of darkness alike, I…
Everyone: So you'll go then?
Amy: Um… N-no! You m-misunderstood!
Furina
The Great-And-Grand Archon of Fontaine played and saw every horror game and movie, and never once got scared. Or that's what she claims, at least.
That's why Focalors decided to prove her excellence with a true, dark challenge she could easily overcome, thus proving her gaming capabilities for all to see!
In hindsight, Darkest Dungeon wasn't the best of choices she could have made… It did amuse Monsieur Neuvilette, however.
Neuvillette: I think you should retreat. Your heroes are close to dying.
Furina: I appreciate your advice, my dear Iudex, but your worries are misplaced! My Crusader will deal a critical hit, thus ending the pig-man's miserable opposition, and granting us treasure galore! Watch and marvel at my skill!
Game: "A singular strike!"
Furina: Ahaha, see? I told you it would be fine~ Wait… It's not dead yet…?
Game: "Mortality - clarified in a single strike!"
Furina: Um…
Game: "There can be no hope in this hell, no hope at all…"
Game: "And now the true test - hold fast, or expire."
Game: "Those who cover injury find it in no short supply."
Game: "As life ebbs, terrible vistas of emptiness reveal themselves."
Furina: Ret- T-tactical withdrawal!
Game: "Cornered, trapped, forced to fight on!"
Game: "This is no place for the weak, or the foolhardy."
Game: "More blood soaks the soil, feeding the evil therein."
Game: "Perched at the very precipice of oblivion."
Game: "More dust, more ashes, more disappointment."
Game: "Another life wasted in the pursuit of glory and gold."
Game: "Wounds to be tended. Lessons to be learned."
Neuvillette: Lady Furina, if only you had-
Furina: Silence.
Shenhe
Shenhe never gets scared. The most terrible of monsters or existential terrors are no match for her training and resolve, no matter how unexpected they might be. She might not get scared, but she can get startled, right?
Who else would pose that question but Hu Tao, the mistress of horrors herself? It was always her objective to get some sort of reaction out of the adepti disciple, no matter how insignificant and small it might be. Many things were attempted - scary movies, troubling situations, body horror, cosmic horror, existential horror… But none of them ever worked. Shenhe remained stalwart.
Out of desperation, Hu Tao was forced to reach for the ultimate weapon. The bane of those unprepared. The myth. The legend. The game.
The Scary Maze Game.
After plugging in an old spare monitor, she invited Shenhe to “test her precision”, and stepped a few safe meters back.
The monitor ended up skewered with her polearm, but Shenhe did yelp - much to her delight.
Not all was fun and games though, as Hu Tao got the mother of all lectures from Cloud Retainer. Something about Shenhe’s red ropes breaking, but the director didn’t pay much attention, and just nodded along.
Hu Tao: Heya, Shenhe… You don’t mind the little scare I gave you back on Halloween night, do you…?
Shenhe: Oh? Well, as much as I was upset during the moment, I must admit it was quite… cathartic. I never experienced anything like that. I do not hold any grudge towards you. Actually… Thank you for that, director Hu Tao.
Hu Tao: Phew! And I was here thinking I’ll share the fate of that display!
🎃Happy Halloween!🎃
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact furina#genshin impact hu tao#genshin impact zhongli#genshin impact alhaitham#genshin impact bennett#genshin impact razor#genshin impact noelle#genshin impact fischl#genshin impact kokomi#genshin impact ningguang#genshin impact beidou#genshin impact neuvillette#genshin impact ei#genshin impact raiden shogun#genshin impact xiangling#genshin impact amber#genshin impact ganyu#halloween special#contentloadingandstuff
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Stuck Record
Steve Murphy x F!Reader
From these August Prompts: A Stuck Record (Not from the original list I'm doing the challenge off of, but a previous August list from the same creator).
A/N: No better birthday fic drop than a little Steve Murphy x reader sitch!!! The way @drabbles-mc has turned me into a total Steve Murphy fan girlie and I'm not even mad about it. I'm actually kicking my feet and giggling.
Word Count: 1k
Warnings: Alludes to sexual situations, cursing, fluff, but talking about angsty things, mentions of drinking.
Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini
It was late, you had just gotten out of the shower. Not being able to sleep left you with a clean house and all that was left was to wash yourself of the sweat and insomnia. Unfortunately, not only was the hot water not enough to lull you into sleepiness but being a visitor in Colombia offered you nothing else to do in the late hours of the night.
You got situated in your robe, soothed lotion onto your skin and moved out of the bathroom humming. Out of instinct you always looked at the front door when you passed it, hoping to see the doorknob move insinuating that Steve was home. But nothing. Just the silent, empty apartment.
The silence brought an idea to your head. To pass the time you moved over to the record player that was on the shelf that ran along the window, behind the couch. You kneeled on the couch and flipped through the records you had until you landed on the Cyndi Lauper album and set it up on the record player. It took a minute to catch and play but once it did, it brought a vibe of serenity into your apartment. And waiting for your DEA agent of a husband to come home, a moment of peace and serenity were rare to come by. Your humming moved to follow the beat of the song as you moved to the fridge and poured a cold glass of wine. Bringing it back to the living room, instead of sitting down you moved to the music slowly, closing your eyes and paying attention to every instrument, every note, every lyric. Your mind got so caught up in the music, you didn’t realize you had drank nearly all of your wine, you didn’t need to fill it up because along with not paying attention to your glass, you missed the sound of the doorknob turning and the front door closing.
Steve’s presence around you startled you slightly, causing you to jump and let out a gasp but instantly you melted into his grip and scent. You had never been happier to smell cigarettes and cheap knock-off cologne.
“You’re running on empty.” Steve whispered into your ear as he hugged you from behind.
“Been trying to pass the time.” You hummed back to him and began swaying back and forth.
“Your husband leaves you waiting till the late hours of the night for him?” Steve’s voice was littered with humor as he talked about himself.
“He’s busy with work.” You teased him back.
“Too busy to come home to this?” His hands moved down your robe, feeling along your body slowly and sensually.
“His loss.” You raised your brows and turned around to face him. “Your gain.”
Steve looked exhausted, his eyes were heavy, his shoulders were dragging, now hearing the raspiness in his voice was clearly a sign of lack of sleep over romance. Your free hand moved up to his face out of concern. “You look worn out.”
“You look amazing.” Steve’s eyes traveled down to look at you in the robe that was loosening up around you.
“You should go to bed.” Your thumb caressed his cheek.
“We should.” He leaned into your touch. “But first, let’s just, enjoy this.” He grabbed your glass and placed it on the coffee table and took your hand in his so it wasn’t left empty for a second. He moved you around, it wasn’t extravagant dancing, but it was sweet. You could feel how tired Steve was but you could also feel how much he missed this. How much he needed this. You grabbed him tighter and rested your head against his chest.
“I miss you.” You never said that to him anymore. Not because you didn’t mean it–hell, you thought it everyday, but because you didn’t want those words weighing on him. He had enough happening all around him and you didn’t want home life to drag him down more. But, you said it now because you felt like he needed to hear it and you were right.
“You have no idea how much I miss you and miss hearing you say that.” Steve’s voice was desperate, like tears were going to fall from his eyes or he was going to scream from the build up of stress. But before he could do either, the song on the record changed and Time after Time began which caused him to let out a choked laugh as the tears sat in his eyes still.
“What’s funny?” You smiled, pulling out from his chest to look at him.
“This song. I hear it all day long on the radio.” Steve was smiling still and it brought a warm feeling to your heart.
“Cyndi Lauper is on the radio in your car and at work?” You were confused since you were in a foreign country.
“They put the American station on because they think I’ll feel more at home, it’s them being assholes and in turn I end up listening to Time after Time all day.”
You stared into his heavy drooping eyes, seeing the pain of his day, the last few weeks all there but the corners of his eyes being wrinkled in a smile made it all go away.
“Well now everytime you hear it, you can think of me.” You matched his smile with your own and stood up on your tip toes to quietly speak in his ear. “In this robe.”
The growl he let out was low and needy as he gripped you, the moment his grip got tighter, the record began to stick, repeating the song’s name over and over again until it snapped into no sound but the crackles and pop of a stuck record, causing both of you to fall over each other in a fit of laughter.
“Even the record player can’t listen to it anymore.”
“I was getting bored, anyway.” You teased him. “I think I could go for some real action.”
You didn’t have to say it twice, before you knew it Steve was practically lifting you off the ground, guiding you to your shared bedroom where neither of you was going to catch up on sleep anytime soon and the record player would static and crackle until the early morning hours.
#steve murphy x reader#steve murphy narcos#narcos#narcos netflix#steve murphy#steve murphy fanfic#steve murphy fanfiction#narcos fanfic#narcos fanfiction
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Although the pictures above are edited by me to fit a theme, the original pictures are not mine! All credit goes to the original owners!
Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.
Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.
If you would like a personal reading from me, you can get one, here!
Hello, lovely pile one! The last time you saw your person they may have confessed feelings for you or there was some sort of conversation between the two of you that took your connection with them to the next level. This could be someone you’ve had a crush on or been in the talking phase with for awhile and one of you made the first move and asked the other out on a date.
This has a very lovey honeymoon phase type of vibe. Before this conversation or offer, your person had a lot of anxiety and stress towards you and the connection you two have. Like a fear that they’ve been reading the situation wrong, the feelings are one sided, you don’t see them as anymore than a friend, etc. but this conversation the two of you had completely eliminated those fears for them.
There’s this fresh, vibrant and excited energy surrounding them. I heard “the stars shine brighter” almost like every part of life for them is more vibrant and meaningful now that they’ve made this next step with you. I keep getting a message about Mary Poppins? I keep getting an image from the beginning of the original movie where that guy is walking around the town and singing? (I’m sorry if that’s off, I haven’t watched that movie since I was a kid) this may resonate with some of you somehow (if it does, please let me know! I love hearing about how odd little messages like this resonate with you all!)
The people around your person may also notice that they’re happier. I heard “pep in their step” your person just comes off as so much lighter, happier and vibrant to those around them.
As for how this person felt the last time you saw each other:
When I was shuffling for this portion, I heard “giddy” and “blind hope” The last time you saw your person may have been in some sort of group setting or small gathering. They may have been jealous or upset about the lack of attention they were getting from you but I don’t think they made this known or told you about it. They may have seen you talking to someone else and they felt very jealous and this is what pushed them to have this conversation with you or ask you out (I keep hearing “blind hope” again) the way this person approached you or asked you out may have seemed abrupt to you but I don’t think you were upset about it, at all. In fact, I think you may have been waiting for this for awhile. This jealousy pushes them to make the first move and it’s not something thought out or planned and afterward, it feels like a weight lifted off their shoulders. There may be this mentality for them of like “I’ve been stressing about pile one and whether or not they have feelings for me for so long and I let it hold me back from asking them out but now that I have, I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner” it feels like the easiest thing they’ve ever done because your connection and conversations are just so effortless. The two of you mesh together really well.
They have this overall very giddy and excited energy but also more relaxed than they have been in a long time. They may be sleeping better now that they’ve asked you out. Truly, they were so worried about the feelings being one sided and you not wanting them that it kept them up at night. I just heard “I missed you so much”
I feel like I’m not supposed to say much more, I believe you’ll be going on a date with this person soon and I’m strongly feeling that I’m not supposed to give out too much information and to let you experience this for yourself and I would recommend you also do the same! Get to know this person through them themselves (so no social media stalking lol) and don’t obsess or stress about the connection too much! Let it flow effortlessly and enjoy this person and the time you spend with them! The feelings are most definitely mutual and there’s nothing to be afraid of.
Hello, Pile Twos!
The last time you saw your person could have been at some sort of charity event or work event. They were really excited to see you and really nervous, as well. They spent a lot of time looking at you. There was something about you that came off as very giving and mature. Everything about you seemed so effortless and elegant to them.
You could have also been around children. This person thinks you’re very good with children and have a very motherly/fatherly/parental vibe and they really like that about you. They may have seen a more intimate side to you or less professional side to you. Maybe you know them through work or something professional and when they last saw you, it was somewhere outside of work where you didn’t have to be as straight forward or professional.
You came off as very easy going and friendly to them. You know how to work a crowd and keep a conversation going. A lot of the time, your person just stood back in awe of you. You may have felt that they didn’t like you or something because they didn’t talk to you much or seem to be making an effort to be around you more but that’s not the case at all, they definitely noticed you. I heard “spent the whole night noticing you” I don’t get the vibe that they were too intimidated to talk to you or felt like they couldn’t, I think they just enjoyed seeing you socialize and just be yourself.
They really like getting to see you in a setting that’s very different from the kind of setting they usually see you in. They also thought you were very funny and easy going. I know I’ve said easy going before but it’s a message that keeps coming in frequently. Maybe you’re serious at work or wherever you usually see this person? There’s just something so different about you and the way you act here like more light and carefree, just enjoying yourself and not worrying about anything or stressing. Maybe you have a very stressful job? Or your job has been very stressful lately?
After this last interaction, your person saw you as someone very balanced. Grounded but carefree and kind of go with the flow, funny and outgoing but also serious and professional. I think this person is seeing more of you and your personality and they really like what they see. They want to know more about you, you definitely fascinate them.
This could be a very recent ex. The last time you saw them could have been when you were meeting up to give each other back all your old stuff or something or maybe you share custody of your children or a pet or something? The reason for the breakup could be due to infidelity. For some of you (especially if children are involved) your person could even still be in a relationship with the person they cheated on you with.
No matter the situation, your person felt very flustered around you. You came off as very self sufficient and happy, like you’re doing fine without this person in your life. Some of the cards you got were The Empress, The 10 of Cups and The Four of Wands. To them, it seems like luck is on your side and you’re doing just fine.
I heard “best you’ve ever been” I keep hearing a 5SOS song. I think it’s “Mood Swings” (I could definitely be wrong tho) but the lyric is “I can tell by the look in your eyes that you don’t wanna fight on a Friday night” and “I hope you don’t mind that I ruined our time” I’m getting very emotional and on the verge of tears rn so hearing this may be very emotional for you? If this is an ex, you may still have love for them and are fond of the memories you share with them but are also aware that they aren’t good for you and that you need to move forward without them or at the very least, without them playing the same role or taking up the same space in your life that they did previously. If no one else has told you, I want you to know that that is okay and I’m proud of you for knowing when a situation/person is no longer serving you and moving forward without them while still healing from that loss and hurt. Your feelings are valid and it’s okay to move on. The time you spent with this person was not time wasted and it’s okay to think back on it and appreciate it while still moving forward without this person.
Now, back to this person’s thoughts/feelings, they may have even expressed to you that they wanted to try again but if so, you turned them down (some of you may have told them you’d think about it and it’s not my place to tell you what you should/shouldn’t do and I can only see so much of this situation but I do want to tell you that just because someone wants you back, doesn’t mean you have to or should take them back. Always do what’s best for you and what will make you happiest but don’t feel like you have to do anything for anyone other than yourself.)
I’ll finish off by saying pretty much what I’ve been saying, this person sees you as an elevated person. Like someone that has gone through a post breakup sort of glow-up and is thriving on their own. You’re coming off to them as very successful and self sufficient. I heard “you’re absolutely glowing” you don’t need this person and it’s obvious to them. They may have even been a little jealous seeing you and knowing others would want you (I heard “why wouldn’t they”) you could definitely move on to someone else and have no problem doing it and that kind of drives this person insane. They’re feeling a lot of regret for their past actions and rethinking their decisions but that’s not on you at all.
I’m going to end the reading here because I feel it’s best for you to focus on yourself and not worry about this person. You’re doing so much better and are going to continue to get better with time. You shouldn’t have to worry about this person or their thoughts/feelings. Don’t let their energy hold you back or weigh you down. Do what’s best for you and what makes you happy!
I hope this reading has brought you some sort of peace, clarification, or happiness! Feedback is always appreciated :) have a good day or night. Sending you love and light!
࿐ mara
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Pillow Wars - TMNT HC's
TURTLE DOVES!
I hope y'all are doing well and staying safe 🥰😘
This evening I will be answering a FABULOUS ask from @lec743
The original ask:
Can you write a story about the reader (or an OC of your choice idc) having an all out Pillow War with one of the turtles (I'd prefer it to be all four of them but that's my only preference so you can make the singular choice of turtle if your adamant about sticking to one character at a time). I want mayhem! I want blood (the blood being silly string)! I want the king to fall to their pillowy demise! laughs evil-y clears throat Anyway, I don't want there to be any romance in it, maybe just playful flirting… And that just about covers it. Hope I'm not asking too much from you.
I had a lot of fun writing this! Thank you so much for indulging me with hilarity and shenanigans!!!
I hope you like it 😘
Warnings: swearwords, fluffy butt whooping, and lots of fun 😂
Another attempt at Gender Neutral reader insert - please be kind about any mistakes I may have overlooked 💜
Shout out to my girl @leosgirl82 for being my second set of eyes and the other half of my brain
Scooby Drew strikes again 😂🥰😘💜
Reblogs only please!
Pillow Wars
Pillow Wars
Same ol' same ol'
You get to the lair
Raph is thumbing through a motorcycle magazine
Mike is sitting in the recliner playing a game
Don is in the lab
Leo is locked in his room doing GOD knows what
And you're bored.
And since no one wants to entertain you
*ominous music*
It's time to shake things up
If your memory serves you correctly
Michelangelo
Needs a good ass beating
For eating all the homemade cookies that you brought down
For EVERYONE to enjoy
However
You walked in on him
LICKING THE CONTAINER CLEAN
Despite your warnings
Of his untimely demise
If he ate all four dozen cookies
And didn't leave anything but crumbs
For everyone else.
Again.
That asshole decided to eat everything
Crumbs included.
SO
You throw a pillow at Raph
Because you KNOW he gives a good butt whooping
And you keep walking like nothing happened
Just to stand on the sidelines to watch as the chaos ensues
Making Mike look like the culprit
Raph looks up from his magazine
*Unimpressed Raph*
*Big eyed Mike*
"Oh yeah? You little sh*t?"
Mike pleads innocence
Raph isn't buying it
Pummels Mike with a non-stop barrage of pillows
Including the couch cushions
Mike is screaming for help like a dramatic five year old
Yells for Leo to "save meeeeee"
Enter unimpressed™ Leo
He had been reading.
TF you two, cut the crap before you break something.
Mike and Raph stop for a moment
And look at each other with huge smiles
"Like your FACE!" Yells Mike
Insert Mike and Raph pelting Leo with all the pillows.
That's it.
Leo picks up the pillows and GOES AFTER Mike
Insert Mike screaming like a five year old again.
You run to the lab and get Don
OMG DON
MIKE NEEDS HELP
LIKE NOW
Don jumps up from his desk
And takes off at full speed out of the lab
You follow him
But not close
Because you're snickering
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
Don is in a panic upon seeing Raph holding Mike down so Leo can beat the shit out of him with a pillow.
Mike is still screaming like a Meemie
Everyone stops
And looks at Don
Pillow fluff is everywhere
Feathers are floating down like snow
Leo and Raph get up and point at Mike
Simultaneously they yell
"HE STARTED IT!"
Mike pleads innocence again.
You pick up one of the pillows
That had mysteriously ended up in the hall
*Wink wink*
And smack Don in the back of the head
Oops
You meant for it to hit his shell
😬☠️
Don turns around slowly
*Chucky vibes*
His glasses have half fallen off his face.
He walks over to you
S L O W L Y
He holds out a hand
A pillow materializes in his palm
*Samurai yelling as all 4 of them come after you*
*Get the snot beaten out of you*
You have fluff coming out of your ears
And feathers in places they shouldn't be
Don helps you up
Everyone is chuckling and cleaning up
When all of a sudden
Five pillows are whipped
At the speed of light
Smacking each of you square in the face
You all turn
And see…
SPLINTER?!
With his arsenal of pillows
Ready ...
For round two
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Le Cirque du Fantasme | Part One
Fandom: Monsta X
Genre: Smut, natch
Word Count: 12.2k
Pairing: Jooheon/Changkyun/Minhyuk x OC
Synopsis: Step right up! Step right up! Come one, come all to a celebration of the macabre, the daring, the enticing, and the beautiful. Inside this tent is another world—one that will challenge your senses as much as your soul. Nowhere else on Earth can you experience such an awakening. Just take caution—once you are awake, you’ll find it hard to ever go back to sleep.
The Vibe: Third person (as always), fall fog, small town, lost and found, night circus, inhumans, the seen and the unseen (heh), everything fantastical and provoking, wonderstruck OC, questioning reality, copious amounts of worldbuilding leads to copious amounts of smut, foursome, suspension, light bondage/shibari-adjacent, temperature play like woah, sexual oneupsmanship lol, acrobatic sex yw
A/N: Literally the second the opening bars hit on “Daydream,” I knew I was going to write an October fic to it. Not only that, I knew exactly what it called for.
I had originally intended to publish multiple October fics, same as last year, but since I boned myself over with my earlier writing hiatus, the least I can do is give you a twoshot. This is my love song to my readers who love worldbuilding as much as I do. I didn’t try to rein in the muse this time, so hopefully you disappear into another reality entirely with me. Also—
Since it’s October, when we do get to the smut, I, um, went slightly more deviant than usual ahahaha. .-.
Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03
“Oh, no.”
Mariam is aware that, all things considered, she is under-reacting.
She is lost when there is no reason for her to be lost.
Only minutes ago, she was walking home from her late shift at the diner, and now she is wandering through fog as thick as stuffing and woods where there should be sidewalk. It’s nighttime, but it’s doubtful that even in daylight things would change. Even with the pale moon, she can neither see where she has come from nor where she is headed.
The fog has muffled every sound like a pair of noise-canceling headphones. She can hear only the crunch of dry leaves under her boots. And, yeah, it’s late, but where’s the traffic? She always passes a few cars on the road. She realizes that is exceptionally weird, but there’s nothing to do but move forward. Carmel isn’t very big; she’s bound to wander into one of the old cemeteries any moment, and then she’ll know she’s close to her apartment.
Still, the woods are a little concerning. Town might be tiny, but if she’s somehow wandered into the woods around Ninham Mountain, Mariam could be lost for hours. The state forest is huge and full of lakes, and she is definitely not on any sort of trail at the moment.
Slowly, her usual cavalier attitude wears thin. It’s getting cold. The chill of autumn bites at her through her flannel, and she withdraws her fingers into her sleeves before they can chap. The further she walks into the fog without a guidepost, the more nervous she gets.
“Idiot!” she curses at herself.
Suddenly, it dawns on Mariam to check her phone. She fishes it out of her bag to find she’s been walking for ten minutes, which is her usual walk home, but she can’t see a single building let alone a sidewalk. Foolish as it is, she decides to map her route, but something much more alarming happens.
No signal.
She cannot call. She cannot text. She cannot even access her GPS.
The little marker on the map has her floating in a blob of gray, which is ironic considering she is unmoored in a cottony swab of nothingness.
“Oh, no.”
This time, at least, Mariam is painfully aware that her reaction is right on point.
She keeps her phone in hand now in the hope of catching a wisp of signal. She doesn’t feel like she’s walking up hill—she doesn’t feel like she’s moving at all—but in the hopes that she is, maybe she’ll pick up the cell tower. Realistically, she can’t have gotten that lost in ten minutes.
Her ears perk. She hears something other than her own feet, and she stops to make sure she isn’t hallucinating it.
Nope, that’s music all right. It’s just really, really weird music. Like someone’s playing organ music, but it’s definitely not from the Baptist church. It’s too… whimsical?
Mariam cocks her head. It reminds her of something. She can’t remember what, but something from her childhood, she’s sure.
With no other options, she walks toward it. At least she’ll find one other human out here who can give her some directions.
She turns on her flashlight, but it just rebounds off the fog and blinds her. Mariam stumbles against a tree and waits for the flood of brilliance to wash from behind her eyes. When she opens them again, the fog has miraculously thinned.
She’s definitely in the woods, not one of the little town parks or someone’s backyard but somewhere wild and unmanicured. The trees are spindly but thick, almost claustrophobic. There’s still no sign of a trail, and yet it seems like she’s on one. In fact, she can see it laid out before her, free of brambles and thickets and fallen trees. The fog is thinner there, too, though all along the sides of her, it’s as dense as cinder block.
The only thing that makes sense is following it, so Mariam does, and as she walks, the music gets louder. It also becomes more familiar. Maybe it’s because she’s lost, but something about it is so inviting. If notes can be colorful, these are positively flamboyant. She finds herself smiling in the fog.
The trail-not-trail bends and when she rounds a big boulder, she sees it.
There, in a glade cloistered by a lush canopy of fiery red maples, squats an enormous circus tent replete with a black flag snapping in a breeze that she can’t feel. The tent is striped white and black, high contrast even in the dark. There’s a long entrance tunnel, and at its maw is a ticket window lined with warm white lights. It glows like a lighthouse, and Mariam finds herself drawn into its harbors.
There’s a man in the window. He’s the most intense blend of handsome and cute she has ever seen. If she looks at him from one side, his eyes are thin and sharp, and they cut through her like razors, but if she looks at him from the other, his dimples cup his playful mouth as though they can barely contain his inner vibrance. His hair is darker than the night itself, making his skin look white as starlight by comparison, but the booth lighting frames his head like a halo. He’s an impossible mix of everything all at once, and she has never seen his equal.
Mariam steps to the window with an overwhelming sense of intimidation.
“Welcome, fair lady,” he says. His voice is potent. He says each word with a confidence that she has never felt in her whole life even at her best, and she finds herself captivated in the span of five syllables. His eyes dance as he studies her. “You’re just in time.”
“For what?” she asks.
“Showtime, of course. I was just about to close the ticket window, but lucky for us, I didn’t.”
It’s kind of a weird thing to say, Mariam thinks, but his unswerving confidence makes her reconsider.
“Actually, I was just looking for directions?” she says with more of a question than she intended.
“It seems to me you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Again, his conviction makes her question hers.
“I wasn’t planning on going to a show tonight.” She fishes through her bag and finds the small roll of ones and fives from her shift. Tuesday shifts were notoriously poor payouts, but a traveling outfit this elaborate has to cost a pretty penny considering how exclusive it must be out here in the middle of nowhere. “How much? I don't have much cash on me. You take cards?”
“Those little plastic rectangles?” he replies with a flippant smile. “Pointless.”
Mariam frowns. “Then I don’t think I can afford it.”
He leans across the counter, almost through the window itself, into her personal space. Her hands fly to her chocolate locks and gather them to one side, twisting and twisting it as tightly as she feels her stomach twisting.
“Oh, admission is very reasonable,” he assures. This time when he smiles, it feels like he’s keeping a secret. He presents a golden ticket, the glossy paper winking as it turns between his well-manicured fingers. “Admission is only a dream.”
“A dream?” Mariam says skeptically.
“Just that, miss. In exchange for the best dream you’ve ever had, we will provide you with a new one. Seems like a fair trade, yes?”
“It would be if I knew what you were talking about.”
“I promise you’ll never experience anything else like this.”
Her brow furrows as she glances up at the big top. “I don’t even know what this is.”
The ticket-taker pouts, and his lush lips fatten to sumptuous thickness. “I’m afraid the show must start, miss. Do we have a deal?”
Mariam considers. This isn’t why she came—no, wait, she didn’t intend to come here at all—but she is here now, and this charming ticket monger is next to impossible to resist. What’s the harm in telling him one single dream? He doesn’t need to know about that particular dream.
And, anyway, it’s not like he’s conning her out of any money. In essence, it’s some free, entertaining shelter from a foggy night. She weighs her options and makes her decision.
“Am I supposed to, like, write it down or something?” she asks.
“Just lean in,” he instructs.
Hesitantly, Mariam tips forward over the counter, and for a brief second, his plump lips ghost along hers.
She should jerk back. She should slap him. But she does nothing but let him kiss her like the night mist. She is frozen as a current of muddy feelings spill like water from her lips. The back of her brain tickles a bit, but it’s overruled by the more pleasant tickle of his lips dusting over hers.
When he’s done, he licks his lips, which have curled into a tiger’s grin. His eyes are lively, and he’s panting lightly. He clears his throat and adjusts his hips in his pants somewhere behind the counter.
“How delicious,” he practically purrs. “I may have to keep that one for myself. I almost feel bad for taking it from you, but I promise the replacement will exceed it.”
He presents the golden ticket, and Mariam takes it. She expects it to feel like paper or maybe metal, but instead, it feels gauzy, and she can't stop rubbing her thumb over it.
“Straight through there, fair lady,” he says. “The show is about to start, and a whole new dream awaits you.”
The ticket monger holds open the black curtain, and she enters the tunnel. The moment the curtain shuts behind her, it is blacker than an abyss. The only thing she can see is a thin, shimmering line of light at the far end.
Outside, she hears the snap of the ticket booth closing, and she knows she is alone. The music is louder now, drawing her forward more powerfully than ever, and she realizes why she recognized it in the first place. It rises and falls and scampers and twirls, almost as though she can see the notes surrounding her, teasing and laughing at her. It is the song of childhood, of delight and fantasy.
It is the song of the circus.
There are smells here, too, familiar and unfamiliar. There is the buttery warmth of popcorn and, beneath it, something much more unctuous, a bit like when the cooks at the diner render the lard for the pie crusts. There's a hint of something acrid too, and it reminds her of the smell of her father's rifles.
Mariam follows the tunnel to its end, where she parts the drape only to be assaulted by the brilliant spotlights surrounding a huge red ring. There are seats seven layers high around three sides terminating at a ring entrance shuttered by another heavy curtain, but this one is three times as tall and wide as the entrance she just came through. Just surrounding the ring are four enormous tent poles soaring to the canvas above, where wires zig and zag across the arena and café lights accent each black and white stripe, softening the harsh spotlights.
The ticket-taker is there to greet her as though he has never seen her before. He beams at her, those dimples creasing his plump cheeks. Mariam approaches with her ethereal ticket in hand and starlight in her eyes.
“What’s this? A golden ticket?” says the man with a sharp eyebrow raised. “We have ourselves a VIP tonight it seems. You’re in for a truly mesmerizing experience, miss. Follow me. I will show you to your seat.”
He does not take the ticket from her after all but, instead, leads her across the ring itself toward a pair of empty seats in a box on the floor.
“VIP?” she says as she struggles to keep up with his commanding steps. His thick black boots thunk across the floor and resound under the big top. “But I didn't pay you anything for it!”
“But you did,” he insists. “The most tantalizing dream gets the VIP treatment. After all, we have to work harder to replace what we have taken.”
Mariam tries to remember the dream she’d thought about before she entered, but where her brain searches for the memory, it finds only the lingering taste of his lips, which she savors like berries ripened by the moon until they’re ready to burst. It’s a bit of a silly thought, yet dark, sweet juice coats her mouth and whets her appetite for something even darker.
They stop outside the box seats, and the dimpled man holds open the door with a question on his face. “You want VIP, don’t you?”
“I do,” she finds herself answering.
This broadens the man’s shoulders, and now he smiles so widely that those thin eyes shut under the powerful force of his bright cheeks. “Your private seats then, my fair lady.”
Mariam sits on one of the velvet-padded seats as he closes the door and offers her a sweeping bow like the showman he is. The ticket-monger-turned-usher disappears now behind the backstage curtain, and she has little doubt she will see him in the show, most likely as a clown judging from his over-the-top antics.
As she tries to relax into her seat, Mariam spares some time to look beyond the open stage and see what other lost souls have stumbled into this weird circus. She wonders if she’ll see any of her friends or coworkers in the stands.
She does not. What she finds is far more unnerving.
There are only a dozen or so other spectators in the stands. None of them sit anywhere near each other. They are spread throughout the whole tent, high and low, mostly in shadow because the spotlights are fixed downward in the ring. At first, she thinks they are strays like her, but as they wait for the show to start, Mariam begins to doubt they are even human. If she looks at any one of them head on, they look like normal people, mostly men but a few women, too, but from her periphery, she swears she sees the jaws of a wolf or the skin of a lizard or even a pair of antlers when she turns her head. Most have eyes of glinting gold exactly like those she’s seen along the road when her high beams catch just so.
And there are fangs. Fangs everywhere, some long and thin, some fat or even serrated.
One of them, a thin, hunched man with mottled scales in patches all over his body, is eating from a black and white striped carton which might usually house popcorn, but it definitely isn’t, and he isn’t eating whatever it is with his hand but with quick snaps of a lightning-fast tongue.
Mariam is growing uncomfortable again. She had thought this place might get her back home, but it has taken her somewhere far more foreign, and she’s feeling more alone than ever. She has felt different a lot in her life but never like an actual alien.
She should probably be more scared than anything, but none of these people—creatures—are looking at her. They are all looking toward the ring. Nobody speaks although she swears she hears a snort from one side of the arena that someone echoes on the other side with a series of strange clicks.
She wishes the berry-lipped man would come back and take the seat beside her. She can’t be sure he’s human now either, but she trusts his smile and his dimples, even if she shouldn’t.
Just when Mariam is ready to dart to the exit, music swells anew. It is far more powerful than the spirited diddy that lured her here. Under the big top, the organ booms and the drums thunder, and everything feels like it’s spinning like a carousel.
“Strangers! Friends! Denizens of the dark and light dwellers alike!” comes a voice of unquestionable power from somewhere backstage. As far as Mariam can tell, there is no sound system. It's just the voice of a true entertainer filling the canvas wall-to-wall. “The time has come to revel in the greatest spectacle the night has ever seen. Pretense, common sense, even the very laws of nature itself, have no place under this canopy. What you will experience tonight will challenge your very perception of reality. Nothing you have seen before tonight can prepare you for what you are about to see. At times, you may think you have wandered into a dream, but I assure you, what you are about to witness is so much more. Welcome—”
The backstage curtains sail wide with a snap and a flutter, and a man bursts through, his arms wide and his dimples shining in the spotlights.
“—to Le Cirque du Fantasme!”
The audience applauds, rather lackluster Mariam thinks for the passion of such a lofty introduction, so she tries to clap just a little louder than everyone else. After all, she is getting the VIP treatment, so she should return the favor.
The man rises from a bow that completely folds him in half, and she shakes her head in awe. She had expected—hoped—to see him again, but she is not prepared for the striking figure the former usher cuts in his crimson crushed velvet coat. The tails swish at the back of his knees as he laps the ring. Diamond buttons splinter in the light as does the sweat already beading at his brow.
“I am Jooheon, your ringmaster, but I am also your guide. For every wonder you experience tonight, I will be by your side to remind you that what you are witnessing is indeed real. Together, we will discover there is magic left in the world if you know just where to look.”
He stops in front of the VIP box and tips his head with a smile just for Mariam, and then he is gone.
Back in the center of the ring, Jooheon enumerates the many wonders on their horizon, impossible, tantalizing things that cannot be real, yet the more he promises, the more she believes him. Thanks to this man’s unprecedented versatility, she is also starting to believe this is a one-man circus. Maybe he will perform all of the spectacular acts he’s teasing.
But Jooheon confounds her again. With a dramatic swoop of his hand, he draws the audience’s eyes to the massive curtains at the rear of the tent, and slowly, the heavy fabric parts by unseen hands.
Mariam’s seat trembles. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, caught up in the ringmaster’s passion, but then it trembles again and again, and she realizes they’re tremors.
No. Footfalls.
The arena is dead silent.
Thwomp. Thwomp. Thwomp.
The face appears first in shadow—a great black snout snuffling so strongly that the curtains puff. Even through the veil of backstage, the eyes are clear and bright, an otherworldly metallic green that flash the same sort of gold that some of the audience members possess.
Another footfall, and the muzzle appears, ornamented with thick black lips fringed by snow white and overhung by two bone-shattering fangs as long as her hand.
Since Mariam sits off to the side, the eyes do not seem to perceive her, yet she tucks her legs up against herself and ducks her head to peer from behind her knees as the rest of the creature emerges to fill the ring.
It’s a wolf—if one can call it that. It’s nearly twice the height of a horse and just as broad. Its fur is white all over save for the silver tips to each hair that make it sparkle in the spotlight. Its chunky claws click on the ring floor as it shuffles into position.
Mariam relaxes now. Maybe it’s because Jooheon is standing there unbothered by its haunches or maybe it’s because its face is rather doglike despite its other ferocious features or maybe it’s the fact that its tail is wagging, but most likely, it’s because a man sits astride its great shoulders, scratching its fluffy ears.
“Friends, behold!” trumpets Jooheon. “Our Amorak and our beastmaster, Shownu! Together, they will take us on a journey through the world of creatures long considered too elusive or vicious to be tamed. Many have been laughed at for believing the campfire tales or legends of our ancestors, but for Shownu, these legends are not legends at all but friends and allies, and now, they will be yours, too.”
The Amorak sits down, and Shownu releases its mane to slide down its back like a child on a playground. The beastmaster lands easily and pats the great wolf’s backside. With a snap of the man’s fingers, the Amorak stands and side-steps as delicately as a pony so that even a man as imposing and broad-chested as the beastmaster stands beneath the animal, the man’s head at its elbow.
From the shadows beneath, Shownu whistles, and the wolf spins so its back legs face the audience. Another whistle, this one like a see-saw, and the creature wags its tail in huge, careful strokes that send its long fur sweeping the faces of the audience members brave enough to sit in the first couple rows. Laughter rings out. Mariam finds she is laughing, too, and perhaps even a little envious.
As if he knows this, Jooheon saunters over to the VIP box and says, “Fair lady, would you please stand?”
“What?” she whispers hoarsely.
“Now is better,” he teases with his dimples.
The Amorak shifts, and now there is no doubt it perceives her. The beastmaster steps out from the belly of the beast and walks toward her. Mariam shoots up from her seat, less out of fear of the creature than out of respect for its master.
Shownu stands opposite Jooheon at the box and centers his attention on the VIP. There is a gentleness in his face that she could never have anticipated considering his ominous moniker, but Shownu smiles at her very differently than Jooheon ever has. His lips do not part but, instead, sit neatly atop each other in a way that raises his cheeks like two little fresh-baked rolls.
“Hold out your hand, palm up,” the beastmaster instructs in a gruff but inviting voice.
Mariam does so hesitantly, and when her arm is fully extended, the Amorak raises its paw, too, and places it light as a feather in hers. It’s so huge that only a portion of a single blazing paw pad fills her palm. Its long feathery fur tickles her skin, and she finds herself giggling. The two men exchange smiles, and the Amorak lowers its head. It snorts once, and her long hair sails behind her. She laughs harder now, and the beast and the beastmaster withdraw to the heart of the ring again, her body vibrating both from the experience and the tremors of footfalls.
Mariam sits back down, cradling her hand to her chest with a slack-jawed smile on her face.
The duo performs a few other stunts—the Amorak stands on his back legs and wobbles in the circle, as does Shownu, which has the audience cackling, and then it howls, nearly blowing the roof off the circus tent, which sends the audience cowering—before the wolf takes a seat and Shownu takes a post at the curtain.
Another man, this one even broader and more muscular than Shownu, comes out just long enough to shepherd in two sweet-faced animals before he disappears into the back. At first, Mariam thinks they are fawns, but then she sees the tawny wings folded at their backs.
Jooheon introduces these as perytons, not that that means anything to her, but the antlered person she’d caught sight of earlier in the stands cheers and stamps so enthusiastically that the ringmaster practically glows with the praise.
Shownu gets the energetic little critters to perform a choregraphed dance, which would be cute enough, but then they take to the sky, and whimsy becomes awe. The perytons glide and weave just like birds though they snort and snuffle like deer. Mariam is so lost in the spectacle that she barely catches Jooheon’s note that their sweet faces conceal true power, and no sooner does he say this then one of the little deer-birds divebombs the spectator with the popcorn container and, with taloned back legs instead of its hooved front ones, grabs a hunk of what looks like entrails and lobs it back like a baseball to its friend. The other peryton snaps it out of mid-air to devour it, and the sight of a sweet little fawn face gobbling intestines is not something Mariam imagines she will ever forget. The Amorak growls, and the two mischievous babies promptly land, bleating like kids laughing at their father.
After that, Shownu spreads his arms out wide and lifts his powerful chest, and the perytons follow suit, their hawk-like wings fanned out, every feather articulated. There’s no denying the stir in Mariam’s belly as she studies the beastmaster commanding his beasts, for they follow his every command unquestioningly.
The perytons perform a few more aerial tricks of agility with a ball and a ribbon, and when they are done, the buff shepherd from earlier fetches them to the back and then returns, this time dropping a trail of meat into the ring.
From the back inches a gigantic pink blob. The front end is nothing but a gaping maw lined with hundreds of wicked teeth, and… that’s it—it’s nothing but pinkness and horrifying teeth. Again, Mariam finds herself tucking her feet up onto her chair as though she’s afraid it will break into the box and mow her clean off at the knees.
Jooheon explains this is a Mongolian Death Worm, eyeless and earless but hardly helpless. The crowd is instructed to keep quiet since it hunts by vibration, but Mariam quickly sees that is only partly true when the worm reaches Shownu, and the beastmaster stoops down to pat the top of its head while two big nostrils open for a long sniff.
The creature is longer than her father's car and the color of exposed muscle. Its segments undulate when it moves as well as when it eats, which is an awful lot like Taz from the Looney Tunes, she thinks. It should be grotesque, but Mariam can't help but find it adorable as the monster looks up at its master and seems to smile even without eyes and lips.
Through a series of stamps and claps of his hands against the floor, Shownu communicates with the beast. It rolls up and lunges on command, jawless mouth snapping. It roars with the power and ferocity of a sandstorm, and her blood curdles. Then, as if to rub its stubby pink nose in the face of its moniker, the worm curls into a ball that Shownu scoops up in his sturdy hands and lobs straight into the air for his Amorak to catch in its mouth. Finally, the big wolf drops it to the ground, and the giant wad of chewed bubble gum unspools and jiggles itself dry to the squeal of the few audience members who sat too close to the action and got sprayed with giant dog saliva.
As the laughter dies down, however, the ringmaster reminds everyone not so subtly that this is a death worm. To prove that point, Shownu brings out a giant rod with a metal ball on the end and taps the top of the worm's head. It growls—a sound that trembles in the bones more than in the ears, a bit like a building earthquake or an oncoming train—and rears up, and when it does, it puffs out almost twice its width. Fantastic crackles of lightning discharge from its head and arc into the ball at the end of the rod. They snap and pop and sizzle in yellow so brilliant, Mariam has to close her eyes most of the way so she doesn’t go blind.
When at last the worm deflates, panting in the ring, the beastmaster touches the tip of the rod to the metal pole supporting the tent, and a sonic boom shivers the canvas on its rails. The residual electricity stands up every hair on Mariam's arms and, unfortunately, most of her head, too, which she is quick to smooth down. Shownu pats the worm on the head again, and the chubby blob slinks off behind the buff shepherd, rather satisfied for a death worm, she thinks.
After a hearty round of applause, the beastmaster and the Amorak both bow to the audience, and Shownu takes the opportunity to leap between the giant wolf’s shoulder blades. When it rises again, the man sits astride with a nod for the crowd and one specifically for Mariam, and he looks as much like a cowboy on a horse as he does a man on a mythological creature.
Jooheon takes center stage again, and she is struck by just how much the man seems to belong in the spotlight. With a toothy grin, he says, “Shownu, everyone! Please let him hear how much you loved his menagerie of talented friends.”
Applause and cheers ring out, and Mariam joins in extra loudly since she’s still feeling electrified by the death worm.
“For our next act, I invite you to feast your eyes on a man with the strength of a beast, the body of a god, and the face of an angel. But it isn’t just strength he brings to the table, no, no, no, but agility. Straight from the realm of the Fair Folk, prepare to delight in the beautiful brute force and precision artistry of our resident fae, Wonho!”
The ringmaster steps to the edge of the ring as the former shepherd returns to center stage, padding out in bare feet unaccompanied. He is massive, with enormous shoulders corded with muscle protruding from his tank top. Mariam wonders how it doesn’t burst at the seams considering how the rest of his chest bulges against the fabric, but maybe that’s just another part of the circus magic or it’s simply painted on. It's not much different with his pants. The way the fabric stretches around his tree trunk thighs is perhaps even more magical, and she knows she should probably look away, but how can she when it seems as though the man was made specifically to ogle.
His white hair has the faintest hint of lilac, and like the Amorak fur, there’s a metallic glint to it, but it’s nothing to the glint in his emerald eyes. Even from ringside, they are piercing, so green that they seem lit by some internal flame, and when they fall to her, Mariam exhales so sharply that she realizes she’s been holding her breath since he strolled in.
He is carrying something in his enormous hands. It looks like a giant crystal cube, and it warps and shatters the light like a disco ball.
Wonho smiles. It’s as dazzling as Jooheon’s, all teeth but no dimples, and it accentuates just how delicate he is despite his big body. His ears stick out like little butterfly wings, but just before she can be spirited away by such cuteness, he shucks the tank top over his head, and it’s not just the intimidating display of muscle that catches her off-guard—it’s the actual set of wings at his back.
They unfurl, thin and translucent as stained glass, framed in by silver rims as fragile as the mint green panes inside. She thinks there's no way that something so ethereal could possibly be functional, but, as if to prove her wrong, Wonho alights before her eyes toward a crow's nest just above the ring. The wings make a rustling sound, like a stack of papers blown apart at an open window. They beat nearly as fast as a bumblebee’s, and when he pivots in the air, the breeze they make ruffles Mariam’s hair.
He lands on the platform there and puts down the block in his hand. He wipes his hands on his pants and then rubs them together before waving at each group of the audience. To Mariam, he adds a bow.
When he's ready, he takes several deep breaths, that gargantuan chest ballooning with every one. He picks up the block and splays his hands on either side of it, and then she hears the cracking. It sounds like ice when she pours soda over it at the diner, pops and crackles and pings.
His biceps strain and his forearms flex, and the cracking gets louder and louder and louder. Huge fissures zigzag across the cube until there's an explosion. The cube is powder now, piles in his hands and at his feet. Before anyone even has a chance to applaud, the strongman pivots and flaps his wings, and now, it's snowing under the tent. Like an oscillating fan, he swivels from side to side, and Mariam feels the kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks and lashes. It melts instantly, but its dewy memory sends a smile of pure marvel to her face.
Instead of flying down from his perch, Wonho leaps and lands on his feet with a thud so fast that the snow is still falling like glitter on his fair skin. He doesn't bother to brush it off but lets it melt to a sparkly finish that turns him into living art.
He spends a few minutes lifting impossibly heavy objects and then taking to the air with them as though they are beach balls and not anvils and boulders and other ridiculous things. With his hands, he twists pipes into shapes like balloon animals and ties a knot—out of rebar—with his feet.
Another man emerges from the back then, this one long and thin like taffy freshly pulled, but when he steps into the ruthless lighting, she sees his fair skin is covered in delicate iridescent scales. He brings a stool, a mirror, a bow and arrow, and a bullseye. The tall man configures everything carefully while Wonho makes faces at his coworker in the mirror, and Mariam realizes the strongman is just as much a clown as anything.
When everything is ready, the tall man steps back. Wonho does a handstand on the stool, his back to the bullseye and his eyes on the mirror opposite it.
There’s something about the way his muscles lengthen as he contorts that has Mariam licking her lips. The twitches in his forearms as he adjusts, the flare of his ribs under that dewy skin, that illicit bulge urging against the constraints of his lycra pants—Wonho is truly an astonishing sight, and there’s a pang in her heart when she realizes how much of the world will never know his beauty and grace.
When he’s balanced just so, muscles trembling and abdominals squeezing with breath and stability, the other man situates the bow with the arrow already nocked between Wonho’s nimble feet.
The strongman shuffles his hands on the stool seat and achingly slowly bends his legs, arching his chest as a counterbalance. When the bow and arrow are lined up with the bullseye, Wonho grips the bowstring and pulls it taut.
Mariam holds her breath.
Wonho holds his.
The arrow flies.
Straight into the red bullseye.
The small crowd breaks out into uproarious applause, and she finds herself standing as she claps. Wonho bows to them all as the tall man clears out the equipment, and just as the strongman finishes his rounds, the Amorak comes bounding back in.
The audience recoils at the sudden thunderous intrusion, especially since the great beast is growling, but Wonho is unbothered, and only then does Mariam realize there’s a humongous rope lodged in its great teeth. The strongman pats the wolf’s head before he snatches the free end of the rope and shakes the Amorak back and forth. The growling turns to snarls.
Wonho takes to the air, yanking and pulling, those fragile wings beating more ferociously than the snarls sound. The Amorak digs in its claws and tries to pull back, but with a cheeky wave to the crowd, the white-haired fae drags the wolf back through the curtain as though the creature ten times his size is nothing but a tiny terrier.
The room is speechless, which Jooheon is only too happy to discover.
The ringmaster slides right back into the spotlight and trumpets, “Don’t forget to let Wonho hear it if you were impressed.”
Of course, the small crowd erupts, Mariam chief among them. She can’t escape the image of those pretty wings contrasting rock-hard muscle, the kiss of ice crystals melting on ivory skin.
It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. She is shaken to her very core.
“We’re not done yet, folks,” Jooheon promises as he cuts through her existential crisis. “Our next performer is just as sure to wow you as much with his incredible dexterity as his unparalleled visuals. I personally guarantee you have never before seen anything like his act let alone the performer himself. He has come up from the darkest depths of the sea to dazzle and delight you with wonderous abilities only a one-of-a-kind hybrid like himself can conjure.
“During portions of the show, you may feel tempted to enter the ring. For your safety as well as the safety of our performer, I ask that you please use the seatbelts provided at your seat before we begin.”
Mariam looks down and finds that there is indeed a belt dangling from her chair, which seems utterly ridiculous at first, but as she recalls the incredible things she’s just witnessed, she secures it around her waist. Only a moment later, as the click of buckles ding around the tent, Jooheon walks by with a gentle smile, though his eyes are on her secured seatbelt.
He does the same throughout the rest of the crowd while two new men, one with red hair and one with blue, emerge with Wonho from the back and lift a large wooden cover from the center of the ring to reveal a shallow pool of water. They roll the cover off to the side into a metal corral and then linger at the lip of the ring along with Shownu and the man with the scales, who takes up his station closest to Mariam’s booth. Each man turns his back to the stage to watch the crowd instead, and when the man with the scales catches her gaze, the iridescence shimmers to the sweetest pink before it goes white as a sheet.
She has only a moment to reflect on the tall man’s otherworldly elegance before Jooheon clears his throat.
“Introducing: the one, the only, the luminescent Kihyun!”
The lights dim and the gentle circus music that always swells between acts dies entirely. Each of the last two performances had music, but now, it is so quiet, all she can hear is the lapping of the pool.
It is almost pitch black, though there is just enough light to see a figure emerge from behind the curtain.
He is compact and wiry. His bare feet pad across the ring and dip into the pool with the gentlest of splashes. He wades into the center, the water rising no higher than mid-shin, and then he opens his eyes.
Mariam had assumed it was just too dark to see his eyes, but now that they are open, she understands. He’s special.
They shimmer with the same eerie softness of a glow-in-the-dark toy. They don’t have the sharpness of oncoming headlights which force the eyes away, but instead, they draw her in. They beckon. She imagines seeing them looking down at her in the dark of a bedchamber, but she shakes the thoughts away.
He stoops and rifles beneath the water and soon comes up with a handful of rings. One by one, he squeezes them, and suddenly, they glow, too. He drops four chartreuse rings back below the water to glow at his feet but holds on to five others, though each of those are different colors.
Slowly, Mariam realizes it’s not just Kihyun’s eyes or the rings that glow. Pinpricks of light stud his body like a runway, and she can see now that, though he has arms and legs like a man, he is different—he is more. His skin is also unique. Though she can’t be sure of the exact colors, his front is definitely lighter than his back.
He wears a skintight outfit, something streamlined like a full-body swimsuit though its hard to be sure in the wan light, but now, she can clearly see the outline of sharp, articulated fins both on his forearms and his back.
Kihyun divides the rings in his hands and begins to toss them in the air until a rainbow of light streaks through the darkness. He builds speed until it seems that he’s not just juggling rings but bending light all together.
Once he’s captivated the crowd, he begins to sing. It’s not like anything Mariam has ever heard. Her heart slows. Her mind muddles. She forgets things beyond the show of light and the swirl of the melody around her. Kihyun bend a series of “oohs” and “ahs” of varying textures and power and lengths just as he bends the light—masterfully.
He spins. He pivots. He catches behind his back. Through it all, he sings.
Mariam realizes vaguely that her hips hurt where something presses unfairly against her. It’s keeping her from the ring. It’s keeping her from Kihyun. If she could tear her eyes from him, she could figure it out, but she can’t risk a second away from his incandescent frame.
The music stops, and Mariam stops, too, waiting for the next dulcet note. Abruptly, the juggler gathers all but one the rainbow rings in one hand and crouches down to the water.
He rubs the pink ring along the surface in a figure eight, and when he lifts it, it is dripping loudly in the stone silent room. He brings it up to his face, and Mariam can finally see his features clearly—his angular jaw, his strong cheekbones, his sharp eyebrows. Even the bow on his elegant lips is pointed.
He puckers those dangerous lips and blows into the center of the ring. Just like a kid’s wand, a bubble appears, but Kihyun does not easily run out of breath and the bubble stays flexible. By the time he is done, the bubble is almost as tall as he is. With a swift motion, he flicks the ring inside the bubble, and it seals behind it. The surface warbles with the pink light within, and with another gust from his lips, it sails to the ceiling above Jooheon and hangs obediently like a balloon tied off. He repeats the process with the remaining four rings until there is a watery chandelier illuminating the whole room. Mariam catches a glimpse of shimmering aqua on her own skin, hears the burble of the impossibly churning water sphere overhead, but she can't bring herself to look up—only ahead.
Kihyun stoops and scoops a cupful of water, which he then pours into his mouth. At first, she assumes it’s just a necessary part of being whatever it is he is, but then he spits a thin jet of the water into the air, only when he does, it’s colored with the same eerie blue-white light that dots his body. The stream wanes, but he replenishes it with another long draft from the cup, this time arcing the glowing water like a hula hoop as he spins. On the last drink, he blows a trio of bubbles, these ones as small as his fist but infused with the otherworldly luster. He does not pop them but casts them gingerly just above his head where they hang like a halo.
Finally, he fishes back through the water again, and this time, he brings up five already-glowing balls. These, like the rings, are clearly a prop, though half of Mariam wonders if they’re actually shimmering deep sea pearls.
Kihyun starts juggling these the same way he did the rings, establishing a familiar rhythm before picking up speed until he adds a new layer. He closes those firefly eyes and trusts in whatever senses he has left to keep the balls aloft.
Above him, the little bubble crown illuminates his wet black hair, which undulates back from his face as though caught in an unseen current. It is as mesmerizing as the blender-like rhythm the balls seem to be caught in between his dexterous hands.
Sing.
Please sing.
Please.
Mariam thinks she’s said that in her head, but the whispers hit her ear, and she realizes she hasn’t.
The man with the scales encroaches at the edge of her vision, and it’s a crude reminder that there are others in the room beside the luminescent Kihyun.
As though he’s heard her, the juggler opens that exceptional mouth, and more notes pour out, and though there’s no eerie blue light to accompany them, they’re brilliant all the same. Kihyun has a way of singing that sounds as though they’re all underwater.
None of the balls waver even for a second. His unswerving confidence that he will never let them drop is almost as mesmerizing as his unearthly voice.
Again, Mariam feels that pressure across her hips, and it’s becoming more insistent by the second.
She should be in the ring by now. She needs to be. She might go insane if she’s not.
A whistle pierces the air, and Kihyun stops singing. The balls fall together in a discordant splash, and quick as the death worm’s lightning, the juggler raises his arm, forearms out and fins in a full mast. From the tips of those articulations, he shoots something too small to see in the dim light though Mariam hears the little pew-pew-pew-pew-pew as he spins in the pool.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Each massive glowing bubble explodes overhead while the rings inside fall into the hands of his fellow performers and the water rains in a much-needed cold shower over the audience. Mariam lets out a squeal as she is drenched and gulping for air against the wet chill. Goosebumps dimple her from head to toe, and she folds her arms over her chest to generate fresh heat.
The crowd is too stunned to applaud, but Kihyun doesn’t wait for it either. He exits the pool, bows to the stands, and then pads off to the back while the other performers begin the cleanup. Meanwhile, Wonho takes to the sky to buzz over the handful of audience members one by one, spinning around so his wings beat like a fan over them. He reaches Mariam last, and when he blasts her with air, she yelps and shivers, but in short order, she is dry and happy again in her flannel. He tips his impish head to her and buzzes back to help the others with the last of the preparation, and soon the ring is back as it was.
Now dry and sober, the audience remembers itself, and together, they erupt into riotous applause. Mariam tries to stand for an ovation, but then she remembers the seatbelt, and as soon as she unbuckles it, it’s like a weight is off her lap, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so silly.
“Let him know, let him know!” cheers Jooheon as he takes center stage again. “You’ll never see another one like Kihyun, folks.”
Of that, Mariam is certain. She claps fiercer than ever even as her cheeks color at the memory of his voice.
“I’m sorry to tell you we have but two acts to go,” Jooheon laments, and Mariam laments with him. She feels the dread even before he says it. But he brightens immediately and surges forth in a sweeping circle around the room. “But the good news is they will both delight, confound, and astound you.
“First up, from far across the seas, on an untamed mountain, comes a beautiful and elusive man who both defies your notice but also demands it. Don’t let the sweet face fool you, he is wild and unpredictable and harbors a true hunger for adventure. Prepare to thrill as he risks life and limb to take you to the edge like never before! I present to you… Hyungwon!”
The spotlight centers in the ring, but no one is there and no one emerges from the back either.
“Hyungwon!” Jooheon repeats just as dramatically, but no one appears. Eyes start darting around the room, so, too, do whispers break out. The man in the crimson coat looks back to the entrance. “Hyungwon?”
The ringmaster looks a little nervous, those robust lips pulled tight as he paces the ring edge. He clears his throat.
“My apologies, esteemed guests. Hyungwon is supposed to be nocturnal, but sometimes he drifts off. Just a minute, and we'll get on with the show.”
Mariam sees Wonho darting back behind the curtains while, in the deep shadows at the edge of the ring, she spies the mysterious Kihyun with his arms stacked over his chest as he shakes his head. It's just starting to get uncomfortable, and they're all at the edge of their seats.
“Where is he?” Mariam whispers.
“Boo,” comes a totally different whisper along with a puff of hot breath beside her ear.
Mariam yells and instantly clamps her hand over her mouth as she jukes to the side in time to catch the luminous round face of the man with the scales.
All eyes as well as a spotlight turn to the VIP box to find Hyungwon with this face beside hers, flaunting a toothy grin and cheeks like doorbells begging to be pressed. His laugh is airy and infectious, childlike even, and though he has startled a year of her life from her, Mariam is laughing, too, even as her hand clutches her heart in hopes of slowing it.
How long had he been there without her knowing?
As her pulse slows, she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, he is nowhere to be seen.
Mariam swivels around like a dope, but the new performer has vanished. A few other crowd members laugh, but the patchy lizard man with the long tongue is outright cackling and applauding louder than anyone as though he understands the joke better than the rest of them can.
Jooheon, Wonho, and Kihyun are all laughing, too, so Mariam has to assume this is all part of the man's grand entrance.
And grand it is! Now when the spotlight centers in the ring, Hyungwon strolls into it. He is sporting a pair of leather pants but nothing else, not even shoes, and she can see it's not just his hands and neck and face covered in those scales but his whole body. Like the rest of his features, they are delicate and captivating, almost like glitter sewn directly onto his skin. He throws his arms wide, and she is dazzled by more than just his unique features. He is lean and sinewy with a tiny waist and shoulders as broad as a door.
Colors and shapes dance across his scales in seemingly impossible patterns; even his hair shifts like fiber optics. She recognizes many of the patterns: the tent stripes or the ring floor or the Amorak’s fur; for a moment, he even glows like Kihyun’s strange luminescence. His visual display morphs into a splash of crimson in the exact shape and design of the ringmaster’s coat, which makes Jooheon beam and clap enthusiastically. Hyungwon concludes with the most shocking display of all—he nearly disappears from plain sight by copying the patterns of the backgrounds on all sides.
But then something occurs to Mariam. Hyungwon is almost totally invisible thanks to his camouflage, but the leather cannot follow suit so it looks like a pair of pants floating in the middle of the ring. When he’d been right beside her though, there’d been nothing—not even pants. Shock and more than a little embarrassment grip her body, and she swears the performer knows because he turns to her right then with a very troublesome smile.
Mariam has been so busy being awestruck by their performances that it hasn’t occurred to her to consider how much of them is human when so many parts of them clearly are not. But now the rabbit is out of the hat and she's chasing helplessly after it, wondering what kind of lovers such spectacular beings would be. That's not a thing she should be thinking about looking at a chameleon man, especially because she is a conservative person—she has been her whole life. But sometimes she has thoughts… fantasies. Sometimes she has unusual dreams. There was one in particular she’s often thought of since, in her moments of weakness, but what was it again?
She's so far gone in the illicit thoughts that she nearly falls out of her seat when a motorcycle above her roars. She looks up, and there is Hyungwon at the peak of tent on a platform much higher than the one Wonho had risked. She doesn’t remember the motorcycle there, but it must have been. It sits anchored at the edge of the platform. It has no tires, just rims resting on top of a wire, and though there is a ring securing the machine to the wire, it won’t keep it upright. Beneath it is a perch as a counterbalance, and, of all things, one of the perytons sits on it. Its clawed back feet cling like a bird on a wire.
Hyungwon sits astride the motorcycle, now clad in a black leather vest and a pair of boots. As a whimsical note, some of the scales across his face have blackened into a sunglasses shape. He isn’t tethered to anything, and Mariam can see between his slight twitches and the peryton’s, they are working together to keep themselves upright on the wire.
The engine revs again, and Jooheon raises his hands to incite the crowd. Everyone whoops and cheers, including Mariam, and then Hyungwon zooms ahead.
The bike zips up the slight incline to the other end, where he lets off the gas, and the unlikely pair drifts backwards smooth as a sled riding down a snowy hill. Once they’re back at the bottom, Hyungwon surges ahead again, but he slows when they reach the middle of the line. He cuts the engine, and instead, the room fills with the ping-ping of the wire bobbing under the weight.
Below, the peryton wobbles and tips backwards, clinging to the rail with its claws as it hangs upside down and spreads its wings. Once it’s at full breadth, Hyungwon stands on the footpegs and slowly—tremulously, steps both feet onto the seat before propping one on the handlebars. He, too, spreads his muscled arms, and as the motorcycle glides backward down the slope, little bursts of yellow, like tiny supernovas, fire across his skin. Feathers whisper in the breeze before the crowd roars with the showcase.
Mariam’s heart is in her throat, so big she practically chokes on it. Her skin pebbles with fresh goosebumps because the pair isn’t slowing. In fact, the motorcycle is picking up speed as it glides.
Before they can crash back into the platform, Hyungwon slides back onto the seat and revs the engine again. The peryton swings back upright, and the rider tosses down some dark and messy treat to his passenger.
Mariam assumes it’s over, but then the bike sails even faster up to the peak, and this time when they brake at the top, the peryton rocks side-to-side, and just like that, the motorcycle loops like a propeller around and around the wire.
She screams. So does someone else. Both rider and passenger are completely unbothered.
They whirl backwards down the wire, and it almost makes Mariam sick to watch the spinning. Even worse, as has been happening all night, she thinks again on things she shouldn’t. She thinks on how strong his thighs have to be to hold onto that bike, and she finds herself clenching hers just as hard.
Just as they get to the platform, the peryton startles and takes flight, which immediately flips the motorcycle. Hyungwon plunges from his seat several stories above the floor. Screams ring out all around the canopy.
But not Mariam. She can’t scream. This time, she’s too paralyzed with terror.
This is it. This is going to be the show where something goes horribly, terribly wrong, and as much as she had already been changed by tonight’s performances, this will ruin her.
She feels sick.
Hyungwon’s halfway to his surefire death when the winged creature swoops down casual as can be and grabs his outstretched wrist with its back claw. He drifts like Alice falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland onto yet another motorcycle that Mariam never even saw waiting for him in the ring.
Relief washes through her, and she realizes that over the course of however long she’s been sitting here, she has formed some kind of unnatural bond with the performers. She thinks of them not just as acrobats or athletes but as friends—or, maybe, more disturbingly, something more. Just the notion of them getting hurt tightens every muscle in her body like a winch.
But no one else seems nearly as bothered by the daring risks they’ve just witnessed. As the crowd leaps to its feet, Hyungwon waves and circles the ring on the bike a few times. With a rev of his engine and one final wheelie, he speeds to the back with the peryton in tow.
Jooheon makes his way to ring center as usual, and he’s cheering just as much as the audience. That infectious smile of his stirs the crowd as much as it stirs Mariam’s heart with gratitude.
“How about that, dear guests? I think I can boast with total confidence that that was yet another act such as you have never seen! Another round of applause for Hyungwon and Dyani. Let them hear you.”
The audience doesn’t disappoint. With each act, they’ve gotten more and more comfortable and more and more awestruck. It’s beginning to feel like an impossible ask to ever leave this big top. Yet, Jooheon’s next words send a chill through Mariam’s bones.
“As always, we close our show with the most dynamic performance of all. As you have learned by now, nothing about Le Cirque du Fantasme is traditional, so it must hold true that neither are our clowns. Not only will they take to the skies tonight, but they will take you to new heights with them. Be dazzled as fire and ice harmonize in ways you never thought possible, and, above all, expect the unexpected. Presenting The Flying Fools, Minhyuk and Changkyun!”
The ringmaster steps to the side as the final two performers enter the room.
They move in perfect unison, but that’s where the similarities end. The taller one, with hair like candle flames, presents in vivid detail. His face is shaped like a flame, too, with all the same flickering dimension and undulating contours. His skin is bright and brilliant like his smile only with a sheen to it, and when he spins in the lights, Mariam realizes it’s like a cast of gold dust upon him. She’s not sure if that’s stage makeup or if that’s just part of who he is, but considering his counterpart, it seems like the latter.
The shorter one has hair like snowflake filaments, each strand almost crystalline yet without being actually frozen. Even the cool way he strolls feels like a breeze across damp skin. Though his lines are sharp, borderline cutting, when he steps in the light, Mariam swears she can see through him. He’s sleek when he moves; every line and twitch has a purpose. It’s as though he is untethered and untouchable by everything. It’s almost as though his feet aren’t even touching the floor. She might think he’s a ghost if everyone else weren’t seeing the same thing.
With a pair of synchronized bows, the performers greet their audience silently just as the others did, saving all the talking for their ringmaster. Instead, they start their act with a series of incredible one-upsmanship. The redhead conjures fire in his palm, which the blue-haired man snuffs with a flick of his wrist. In retaliation, he then creates three snowballs of varying sizes into a very sweet but very humble snowman, and the redhead returns the favor by lobbing a fireball under his knee with the unforgiving precision of a meteor. The poor snowman explodes and melts into a puddle while the crowd chuckles.
They make faces at one another as they hurry to build their next assault. One constructs a basketball-sized snowball to the other’s fireball, and with a war cry like two brothers squaring up, they throw at each other. If either is off-target, Mariam will be buried in snow and the other side of the ring will be engulfed in flame, but their aim is true, and the two balls collide with a hiss like punching a hill of sand.
As they mock-squabble, a bar lowers from the ceiling, one side featuring a ring dangling from a chain and the other side featuring willowy baby blue ribbons fluttering as they descend. The two performers continue silently bickering as the redhead climbs into his ring and takes a seat and the blue-haired man winds his foot intricately through one ribbon while he scales the silks.
Once their eyelines are even, the bar raises, and now, the two men soar over center stage a few stories up. Closer to the spotlights, the redhead glitters like a disco ball while, at precisely the right moment, the light pierces the blue-haired man, like sun through a blanket of clouds, and shines down on the ringmaster’s grin.
As the pair reach their pinnacle, they play—not just off of the instruments but each other. It’s organized chaos. The man in the ring rocks like a monkey on a swing, his feet kicking and lifting. At first, it’s art, but then it’s clear his true intent is to toy with his friend. He drops. He swings. He pushes off of his friend’s back like a swimmer off the pool wall.
While the man in the ring flips and threads through his hoop, the man in the straps flies beside him. Thanks to the push, physics draws them back together until they’re rebounding off each other like a Newton’s cradle. Both of them are light and slender, but their sinew flexes with each choreographed move.
Watching them somehow makes Mariam feel strangely feminine, which isn’t something she usually thinks much about. Between work and TV and sleep, she doesn’t spend much time on herself. Carmel is a hamlet, too far removed from the City for the Big Apple to tempt her and too insular to attract outsiders except for the accidental stranger passing through. She doesn’t have to doll herself up because there’s no one in town left to impress, but as the dexterous duo wheels above to a chorus of ruffling silk and clanking chains, she feels soft, pliable even. She wishes she’d had time to change out of her shift clothes or apply some lip gloss. Watching them perform makes her yearn to impress them the way they’ve all impressed her.
Her eyelids droop.
They’re so beautiful. They sail as though the ribbons and chains are merely there for decoration, as though the sky would be their playground with or without them. They might be aiming to make everyone laugh, but Mariam sees beyond that. It’s their artistry she’s swept up in—the way they flick not just their wrists but echo the motion straight through to their fingertips, the way they use every part of their body to sell a complete experience, the way their no doubt countless hours of rehearsal ensures their whimsy looks as effortless as it does unstudied.
The blue-haired man chokes up on one silk as he releases the other and wraps his foot in the chiffon. He spins. He twirls. He sails by his wrist. The ribbon fans like a cape beneath him.
But when he swings too close to his fellow performer, the redhead shoves him playfully out into space to send the blue-haired man arcing over the audience to a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs”. Seeking his revenge, the aerialist slips down the fabric to angle himself like a bullet with an aim for his fellow performer.
At the last moment, the man in the ring latches on to his friend’s wrist, and together, ring and ribbon twine through the air. They circle together before they push apart and rotate like two bodies caught in each other’s orbit. It’s beautiful. It’s hypnotic.
Mariam can’t get them out of her head. Of all the things she’s seen tonight, they ensorcel her every sense. They’re two fools bickering like brothers, but without the bounds of gravity, their playfulness becomes aerial ballet. She wants to be part of the fun.
The redhead climbs on top of his hoop, legs splayed around the supporting chain, and reaches for the chiffon. While he goes high, the blue-haired man goes low, grasping the ring. He looks up at his brother-in-air and pokes his tongue wickedly at the corner of his mouth.
The next thing Mariam knows, the hoop is white with frost, and with a yank, the blue-haired aerialist shatters the ring beneath the redhead’s legs. Frozen metal tinkles to the floor. The redhead grips his chain tighter now, but there’s vengeance in those calculating eyes, and he spins so fast, he looks like a tornado of fire.
His hand lashes out.
He grabs the ribbon supporting his friend’s foot.
Flame marches up and down the chiffon, and the blue-haired man barely has time to unwind his foot and leap to the second silk before the other ribbon is engulfed. It untethers at the loop above and drifts to the floor like a snake made of fire to coil messily beside the shattered hoop.
Both men hang by one hand. The set piece begins to lower, but their rivalry does not slow. Their feet bicycle as they kick each other like toddler brothers, and the room reverberates with laughter. They collide only to push off each other’s thighs, and when they swing back, their arms are outstretched—not for each other but for their opponent’s supports.
The pair stills in the air.
The redhead grips the silk above his friend’s hand, who also has hold of the chain now.
They look each other in the eyes, each confident they have the upper hand.
Chain crackles like a sheet of ice. Fire ignites like a burner.
Their eyes widen. Their cocky grins falter.
They fall.
The pair thunders to the floor, each landing on his own feet thanks to their cleverly choreographed descent. And then they descend into a playground slap fight like the fools they’re promoted to be, which sends Jooheon skittering to center ring to break it up.
The tent is shaking with the crowd’s laughter and applause. Mariam is already on her feet and whooping at the top of her lungs like she’s never done before.
Jooheon raises the redhead’s arm by the wrist and champions, “Minhyuk!”
He does the same to the blue-haired man next as he yells, “Changkyun!”
The crowd somehow gets louder.
“One more time, my friends, for all our distinguished performers!”
Out of the back comes the rest of the circus, including the Amorak and the perytons but thankfully no death worm. Together, everyone fills the ring, the ringmaster front and center. They bow in unison, even the animals, and when they rise, Mariam thinks it’s simultaneously the most ridiculous and most wonderful family she’s ever seen.
The crowd doesn’t seem to take a breath in its cheers. The stands might not be anywhere near packed, but no one would be able to tell because the heartfelt screams—and a couple of animalistic roars, she notes—fill the canvas to the brim.
Jooheon couldn’t look prouder. His dimples have never been deeper. His eyes are little arches. His pearly teeth glimmer. He glows not from the spotlights but from the praise.
“Thank you all for coming! From all of us at Le Cirque du Fantasme, you’ve been a terrific audience, and should our paths chance to meet again someday, we hope you’ll return for another round of unparalleled fantasies. Get home safely, everyone!”
The cheering continues even as the performers head backstage, and once they’re all gone, the guests begin to filter out, each murmuring to the other strangers. It’s clearer now that the lights have come up that the denizens of the big top couldn’t be more different. As far as Mariam can tell, she’s the only obvious human.
She lingers in the VIP box. She’s probably supposed to leave—it’s clear from Jooheon’s well-wishes that they’re all supposed to—and while she’s not afraid of the strange folk after such a show, she just doesn’t want to go.
She’s changed.
She’s not the same Mariam she was when she walked through those striped flaps. How can she go back to her boring, conservative, empty life knowing all that truly surrounds her? It’s like discovering that the world she always thought was flat has a third dimension.
The big top is empty now except for spilled cartons and other litter. Humongous paw prints dapple the dusty ring floor. Motes of dust drift through the beams of light, past the gently swaying extra cache of rings, ropes, and ribbons above.
With a deep, shaking sigh, Mariam resigns herself to her fate. Just as her hand lands on the swinging door to the box seats, the backstage curtains fling open, and the redhead, Minhyuk, and his blue-haired partner, Changkyun, enter.
“Finally!” exclaims Minhyuk in an exuberant voice. “Showtime is always the hardest when you can't open your mouth.”
“I think you’re the only one who suffers on that point,” Changkyun retorts in a much gravellier tone.
The pair take to sweeping up their torched and shattered mess as though they don't even realize they still have an audience, the redhead gabbing away to make up for lost time.
Mariam doesn’t say anything. She’s sure she’s not supposed to be here, and she worries they’ll ban her from ever coming back—not that she’s sure exactly where she is or how she got here. She ducks down a little before she catches herself in her own stupidity. There’s nowhere to hide.
Should she apologize? Hurry out? She could just tell them that their rhythmic aerial battling has stirred things in her that she never thought she’d feel, but that’s probably stupider than trying to hide.
The last act is still emblazoned in her mind when the ringmaster abruptly appears from the back. While the other two men work around the tent, he heads directly toward Mariam as though he never expected her to leave in the first place.
“Well, my dear, what did you think of the show?”
His lips look even fuller and juicier somehow. She’s drunk just on the way they purse and pucker.
“Unbelievable,” she breathes. “I don’t even know what to say about it.”
“And how has VIP been so far?”
Mariam cocks her head to the side. “So far?”
“Did you think your experience ended with the show?”
“Well, yeah.”
Jooheon chuckles. “For the pretty maid in the front row, I offer a truly once-in-a-lifetime upgrade free of charge.”
“What kind of upgrade?”
“Only the most exclusive kind. We’re going to custom build you a dream, my dear.”
Mariam squints. “I thought the circus was the new dream?”
“Well, thank you, but you forget that we took your best dream ever.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says with a blush and a scuff of her boot on the floor. She's getting a strange feeling from his burrowing gaze that she's missing something more important than she’s realized. “But since I don't remember what it is, how do I know you haven't already exceeded it? Tonight was amazing.”
“Trust me, we haven't traded in fair yet. We can do better because… it’s important to me that you remember tonight—and me—forever.” Jooheon smiles at her then, but it’s different than those other flamboyant smiles. This one is gentle and sincere.
“There’s no way I could forget,” she admits shyly.
He looks dubious, but he nods and offers his hand as he opens the VIP box door, too. “Let me see to it then.”
The moment Mariam’s hand slips into his, the ringmaster’s demeanor changes. He’s been the consummate showman all night, but he’s narrowed that influence of his tremendous power to her and her alone. The big top hasn’t changed, but as he leads her to the center of the ring, it’s all much more intimate now.
Jooheon squares up to her and smiles, this time with the faintest hint of a lip bite. His thumbs rub reassuringly over the back of her hands as he takes one step closer.
“We're going to make you the star of our show.”
#monsta x smut#le cirque du fantasme#october vibes#jooheon smut#minhyuk smut#changkyun smut#third person#trilogy
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In Search of Cassian
Summary: Whereby Nesta combs the Night Court searching for Cassian with Rhys in tow. Set 10 years after ACOSF. Fluffy oneshot.
A/N: Based on the prompt from @acourtofwhatthefuck “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
I wanted to give it a completely different vibe and context from the original scene in the book. I hope I managed it. Enjoy!
Read on AO3
I am the rock against which the surf crashes.
With her eyes closed, Nesta inhales and exhales deeply, focusing on the one thought. She does a mental scan of her external surroundings, acknowledging the distant chirps of birds flying overhead and the gentle breeze caressing her skin. She acknowledges and lets them go. Turning inward, she starts her scan from the top, relaxing the slight tension in her jaw and shoulders. She moves downwards to her core where she feels the shallow pool of silver fire linger. She pauses her scan halfway, sensing the imperceptible difference. She isolates and focuses on it.
I am the rock against which the surf crashes.
She acknowledges and lets it go for the rest of her exercise.
Having completed her daily mind-stilling exercise, Nesta opens her eyes to the panoramic view of Velaris from the balcony of the House of Wind. She exhales and hoists herself off the floor. She needs to find Cassian.
She winnows to the training ring above the House where the females were training under Illana's watchful eyes, who nodded to her in deference. The Valkyries have come a long way in the ten years since Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie first sliced through the ribbon. Under Nesta's command, the Valkyries and the female Illyrian units charged alongside the Darkbringers and the main Illyrian force against the mortal queens and Koschei's forces. They came out bloodied and battered but victorious. Proving to the misogynistic males once and for all, the lethal warriors that they are.
Nesta overlooks the training for a good hour, giving pointers on their forms and techniques before bidding Illana good bye. Next, she winnows to the River House and almost instantly runs into Rhys. Rhys's nostrils flare slightly when he sees her but quickly schools his facial expression to an indifferent one.
"Nesta." He greets. Not one for small talk, she cuts to the chase,"Have you seen Cassian?"
"He came by this morning to drop off the reports on last week's security incident at the Day Court borders and left. He mentioned heading to Windhaven for routine checks." His face morphs into one of concern, "Is everything ok?"
"Fine." Nesta replies curtly, she bites back a sigh. "Guess I'm off to Windhaven then."
Rhys follows her, "I'll winnow you."
Having finally picked up the skill herself a while back, Nesta raises an arched brow. "I'm perfectly capable of going myself."
Rhys shrugs noncommittally, “My paperwork can wait an hour.” Nesta narrows her eyes but says nothing. She takes the arm Rhys offers and the duo blink out of the River House.
Nesta and Rhys walk towards Devlon who promptly cuts them off before a single word is out, “What are you doing here?”
“Is Cassian here?” Nesta asks in return.
"There have been reports of beast attacks in the Steppes. The Bast-“ Devlon pauses and corrects himself at the frosty glare Nesta sends his way, “The General went to check it out.”
Nesta levels an even stare at him until the war lord looks away in discomfort. She smirks, “Thanks.”
Devlon’s jaw ticks in annoyance and he spits out, “Witch.”
Nesta bares a white grin and croons, “Lieutenant General Witch.” Without saying another word, she turns around and walks away, Rhys following close behind. Once out of the war lord’s earshot, Nesta demands “Are you intending to follow me around all day?”
Rhys shoots her an amused look, “Am I not allowed to enjoy spending time with my sister?”
Nesta narrows her eyes suspiciously, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing.” He says innocently, hands raised in surrender.
She shoves down a rude remark and asks instead, “Are we winnowing to the Steppes?” Rhys offers his arm in response. Once again, the duo vanishes out of sight and appears in the Illyrian Steppes. Nesta calls forth her magic and Ataraxia appears, clipped to the belt of her leathers.
The pair walks in comfortable silence for about half an hour when Nesta pipes up, “You’re awfully quiet for someone who wanted to spend time.”
The edges of Rhys’s mouth twitch. He drawls, “And how are you, dear sister?”
Nesta snorts. “I’m fi-” She stops as a sudden bout of dizziness hits her and sends her head spinning. She sways and is instantly supported by strong hands holding her upright. Rhys says gently, “Maybe we should just head back first. Cassian is bound to show back up by nightfall.”
She frowns, “I don’t want to wait until tonight.”
Rhys registers the familiar stubborn look he is so used to seeing in another pair of blue-gray eyes and sighs in resignation, “Let’s at least take a break.”
Nesta nods and promptly sets her ass on the ground. Rhys chuckles and settles next to her. He summons a flask and passes it to her. She takes it and nods in thanks before opening the flask, taking a long swig from it.
She blinks in surprise, not expecting the thick viscosity of the smoothie. “Do you usually make it a habit to have smoothies on hand?”
“Nyx loves them.” He shrugs.
“Better?” He asks after Nesta hands the empty flask back to him. She wordlessly nods but does not move from her spot, content to sit for a while more.
“Does it still scare you?” She asks softly. She offers no other explanation, knowing in her gut that he knows what she was asking.
“Yes, everyday” He admits, “It is so much worse now that he can winnow to wherever he wishes without me or Feyre.”
Nesta ponders the words quietly, unconsciously raising her arms to hug her abdomen. “How do you manage it?”
“By trusting Feyre or whoever is watching him to keep him safe. To trust that even at his age, he can defend himself." He says softly. "And to make it known the hell I'll bring to whoever who dares to harm him."
Nesta promises, "And I'll be right there with you." She smiles as she stands up.
After a little more walking, they stumbled upon a clearing with a mangled corpse of a winged beast. The pungent smell of blood and the beginnings of rot staining the air but beneath it was the unmistakable trace of Cassian's scent.
"Well, there's Cassian." Rhys remarks unhelpfully. Nesta shoots him a dirty look and groans in response, "But that also means he has left."
A loud screech suddenly interrupts them as a similar flying monstrosity which lies on the ground lunges for them from the sky. Nesta unsheathes her sword to strike but suddenly finds herself behind Rhys who raises a shield around them. Nesta bristles at the obstruction but has no time to rebut when the beast seemingly winnows out of sight and appears in front of her, talons striking out.
Nesta blocks with her sword and strikes back with her Made dagger that appears in her left hand but barely misses the beast. She swears when the beasts winnows towards Rhys who quickly dodges its attack and slices its leg. The creature screeches in pain but is undeterred.
"Nesta!" Rhys warns.
"I got it." She grounds out and is prepared the next time the beast winnows in front of her. She swings her sword, landing a shallow gash on the beast's chest. The beast once again shrieks in pain as it once again tries to winnow and fails. Its ability rendered useless by Ataraxia. Nesta's next blow cleanly removes the head from its body.
Nesta lets go of the sword and it vanishes before it hits the ground. She pants, feeling faint. Rhys is immediately next to her, his arm slightly supporting her back.
"C'mon. We should head back." He mutters. He snaps his fingers and the two corpses disappear. Nesta grimaces at her bloodied leathers and agrees. They winnow to the roof of the House of Wind. Nesta tilts her chin downwards in thanks and starts to make her way to her bedroom to wash up when Rhys offers, “Azriel is in Hewn City today. I could pop in to check with him if he knows where Cassian is.”
Nesta nocks her head sideways slightly in contemplation and concurs, her voice tinged with tiredness, “That would be helpful, thanks.”
Nesta pads her way out to the living room after her bath and asks for some soup and bread from the House. She does not think she can stomach anything heavier than that right now. Sending a grateful thanks to the house, she digs into the soup and is halfway through her lunch when Rhys enters the room.
“Lunch?” She offers and instantly, plates of stir fried vegetables and meat appear on the table. He sits down at the seat across her and helps himself to a serving.
“Cassian is in the library.” He informs her.
“Here?”
He nods, “He is researching the creature we encountered in the Steppes earlier. Its winnowing ability is…”
“Troubling” She finishes. He nods in agreement.
“Yeah, it is but that is a problem we can deal with later.” He reassures her. “I have told him we are up here so he should be back soon.”
Nesta swallows thickly, “Thank you. I know I gave you a rough time about it but I really appreciated the company.” She paused, “and the glamour.”
Rhys smiles softly, “Anytime, Nesta and congratulations. I am really, really happy for the both of you.”
The golden thread in Nesta’s chest brightens and warms just as they were done eating. Cassian bursts into the room and immediately rushes towards Nesta. “Are you alright?” He demands, scanning her for injuries.
“I’m fine. Rhys and I took care of it.” She quickly reassures him but lets him fuss all the same. Once satisfied that his mate is unharmed, Cassian turns to his High Lord to thank him but Rhys simply shrugs him off and quickly makes himself scarce. Nesta shoots him another appreciative glance before he leaves.
Nesta ushers Cassian to the sofa, her nerves building up. Cassian frowns at the apprehensiveness of his wife, “Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Lines of concern on his face deepens when Nesta says nothing. He cradles her face in his hands to look into her eyes and asks tenderly, “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”
To her mortification, she feels the tears well up in her eyes at the tender tone as the morning catches up with her. She frantically raises her hands to wipe away the tears but Cassian is one step ahead of her, pressing gentle kisses to her cheeks. He engulfs her in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest while pressing his face into her hair. “Whatever it is, it’ll be ok.”
Nesta breathes in the comforting scent of smoke and petrichor, of Cassian. The bond between them hums happily even as Nesta feels the worry from his end. She takes in another deep breath of her husband and looks up. "I-I've been looking for you all morning. I have something to tell you." She announces, somewhat lamely.
Cassian waits patiently for her to continue, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Deciding to just let Cassian find out for himself, she removes the glamour Rhys placed on her earlier and waits.
Cassian's nostrils flare almost immediately. Nesta watches as the emotions flit through his eyes.
Worry. Apprehension. Realisation. Joy. Utter and complete joy and happiness.
Silver lines his waterline. "Are you?" He breathes, "You are…"
"Pregnant" Nesta finishes the sentence, her voice full of emotion. Cassian sweeps her into another huge hug.
"My perfect mate, wife, love of my life." He sighs and presses kitten kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her neck. "Mother of my child."
"You're happy?" Nesta asks, knowing in her heart that it was rhetorical but feeling the need to do so anyway.
"Yes. Completely. Absolutely. Totally. Impossibly." He accentuates every word with a kiss. "You make me so happy. Our child will make me so happy."
Nesta breaks out a watery smile. "You make me very happy too."
"Well then." He announced. "It just seems like we will just all have to be very happy together."
It seems like they will be very happy together indeed.
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🍂 pairing: namjoon x reader (platonic)
🍂 rating: pg
🍂 au: "over the garden wall"-esque
🍂 genre: autumn?? a lil spooky, a lil whimsy, a lil mystery; not quite angst, not quite fluff
🍂 this part: You learn a bit more about Devil Town and what you're doing here... and maybe bargain part of your soul away in the process? It's hard to tell.
🍂 tw: blood!
🍂 wc: ~4.1k
🍂 track: Devil Town ~ Cavetown: "You said something dumb again, she's mad, at least that's what they say." (sub-track, Female Robbery ~ The Neighbourhood)
🍂 devil town masterlist
🍂 main masterlist
🍂 an: part two is late but here! thanks to @theharrowing for being my beta and shout out to @sailoryooons for providing me with the creepy autumn vibes songs for the rest of these! i hope you enjoy reading this, please let me know what you think!!
"All that was lost is revealed..."
You blinked.
You didn't remember closing your eyes, and you certainly hadn't meant to. This time, when you opened them, a warm wooden ceiling greeted you. You soon registered the bed beneath you, rather than the wood of the bench from the forest.
You only blinked.
How had time passed so quickly? It was dark when the Fool originally led you to this room, this temporary space for you to reside in.
It was dark, wasn't it?
You couldn't remember the exact details. Was it light outside when the Guide found you? You couldn't see the sky through the trees, but surely you would've been able to tell the difference between day and night.
You looked out the window. It was still misty. The streetlights were on, or lit, or however they were producing light. There seemed to be no change from when you first arrived here to now.
But you had definitely slept.
You didn't feel any rested though.
You felt like you had only blinked.
You stood up, brushing your fingers through your hair, roughly working out any tangles you found. This was a strange place, with strange people, but you wouldn't find the way home by remaining in this room and blinking. You pulled the wardrobe open and decided to change clothes.
The shirts and skirts and pants hanging were all rather plain-looking. Simple colors, basic patterns, and perhaps a little too big for you, but you didn't mind. You chose a white turtleneck sweater and black trousers, nothing that would draw anyone's attention to you.
A large part of you dreaded opening the door, dreaded descending the steps, wanted to stay curled up in the safety of this room. You didn't know why. Why would you be so scared of a doorknob, or a small flight of stairs?
What if the doorknob squeaks? What if the stairs creak?
What if I get caught?
And who was going to "catch" you, the Fool? He seemed friendly enough, offering you a place to stay. He wasn't nearly as ominous as the Guide was.
Nothing would happen. You would be fine.
Turn the knob, open the door, go downstairs. You did it quickly, in order to shut out the voices in your mind that told you to stay safe. The world did not end.
You were okay.
The Fool was up and about, dusting off some of the taller shelves. He turned when he heard you coming, offering you that same dimpled smile.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
You ran your hand through your hair again, a nervous tic you couldn't remember where you got from. "I'm not sure? I don't feel rested at all…" you trailed off, once again looking around at the shelves full of book and trying to not feel so off about it. " How long has it been?"
Was it truly only a blink or did you actually sleep a day away? You only had a month to figure out how to get home.
The Fool finished dusting the shelf he was on as he spoke to you. "Time and sleep work differently in the Unknown than what you're used to. Don't worry about it too much, you'll adjust soon."
Well, that didn't help you feel better at all.
You let the Fool continue his work, giving yourself a chance to really look around at the place you were staying at—beyond the bookshelves.
The wood was dark, and a lovely rug was placed in the center of the shop. There was a table with a set of chairs over in a corner, made of the same cool wood, with a runner draped across the table in the same design as the rug. There was a silver tea set out, but no tea had yet been made.
Try as you did, your gaze kept coming back to the closest shelf, and you couldn't help yourself anymore. "Can I ask you something?"
The Fool followed your eyes, "Is it about the books?"
"Book," you corrected him, "it's about the book."
He smiled again, and this time you wondered if it was a bit condescendingly. "No, books. They are different, you just can't tell yet." He finally stopped dusting, walking over to the main counter where you had first seen him. There were stacks of the same book again, this time decoratively placed on the corners. You followed, and stopped on the opposite side, leaning onto your elbows.
"Different how?"
"You're a very curious person," the Fool said instead.
"I just wanna know where I am and what I'm doing here, it can't be that hard to tell me that."
"You're in Devil Town," he told you, "and figuring out why is a part of being here."
That was a first. The Guide hadn't mentioned anything about that. You cocked your head a bit, asking, "What do you mean?"
"Most people don't get the option of coming to Devil Town," he explained (and you were grateful to have an actual explanation). "They simply move on to the Great Unknown, without much prompting or help. Lost souls like you —like all of us were at one point—only come to Devil Town because we're looking for something or we're running from something."
Whatever you're running from, it won't catch you here. It can't.
That's what the Guide had told you before you met the Fool. Had the Guide already known why Devil Town appealed to you?
But he also said he couldn't tell you what you were doing here, in the Unknown, in Devil Town. Was that meant to be a clue? A loophole he could exploit to point you in the right direction?
Was remembering what you were "running from" the way to going back home? (And, if you were running from it, did you really want to go back to it?)
"Which one were you?" You asked the Fool, instead of the plethora of other questions bouncing around in your head.
His smile didn't drop, but it did turn the tiniest bit harder. "I don't remember," he answered dismissively. "Now, are you ready to choose who you are?"
"I still don't understand what that means." No one in Devil Town had actual names, the Guide had told you that, but you still didn't understand why. Simplifying a person down to a single label was wrong; people were so much more multifaceted than that.
"Look around the shelves and find the blank book," the Fool instructed you, gesturing to the shelves behind you. You didn't really want to look at the shelves, but figured there was no true harm to be found.
It wasn't like one of the books was going to open itself up and bite down on your hand or anything.
Right?
It didn't take you very long to find what he was talking about. On the third shelf from the top, on the second bookshelf, there was a book that didn't have anything on it. It was the same brown the rest of the books were, same height and thickness, but the title was missing. You carefully pulled it from its place and took it back to the counter.
"Good, now what was on the spine next to the book?" the Fool asked. You looked at him strangely for a moment, because couldn't he see what the title of all the books was? But he also said they were actually different, and you couldn't tell yet...
The longer you spent in the shop part of the building the less you liked it.
"It said 'the Runaway'," you answered, still put off by the strange name. It sounded less like a book title and more like what someone here would be called.
"Hmm, interesting," he mused to himself as he inspected the book you brought.
"What's interesting?"
"That means you're in Devil Town because you're running from something."
It won't catch you here.
What were you so afraid of? What were you running from, and why were you scared of getting caught?
"So I'm the Runaway?" you asked, just to clarify that's how this was working. "That's my new name?"
"That is who you are," the Fool stated, like it was never a question in the first place, then handed the book back to you. "And this book is now yours."
"But, this one was blank, the one that said 'the Runaway' is—"
"Look again," he cut you off. Hesitantly, you turned around again, looking at the bookshelves.
You were suddenly in an entirely different bookshop. The shelves and décor hadn't changed, but the books on the shelves were all different now. You slowly approached the nearest shelf, letting your fingers graze across the spines, some fat, some thin, some tall, some short. All different colors, all different titles.
"Everyone gets a book," he continued as you gazed in amazement at the books. "It documents who they were before Devil Town, and the choices they made once they were here, and how they ended up staying."
"Can I read them?" Someone must have figured out how to get home.
"No," he answered, sounding disappointed, "no one can."
You turned to look at him. He looked different without his dimpled smile, more somber and serious, and you didn't like it. "Then why document their lives at all?"
"If we knew why—"
"It wouldn't be the Unknown," you finished for him, "yeah, whatever." You were getting real tired of that excuse. It might be the Unknown but surely there were still some things that were known.
A few of the book titles caught your eye, and you wondered who these people were. One particularly thick book was titled "The Daredevil", while another one, much smaller and thinner, was "The Protector".
And maybe part of you was looking for "The Guide" or "The Fool", and since you couldn't read them anyway there wasn't any harm in looking.
"You'll probably meet some of these people as you explore the town, and you can ask them your questions."
You sighed and finally let your hand fall from the books. "Guess I'll start that, then." You were torn on exploring the town, on meeting the people here; part of you would love to stay here with all the books.
But you couldn't read them anyway.
So you turned and started towards the door, not really ready to venture out into Devil Town, but knowing there wasn't much else for you here helped your feet move forward.
"Wait!" The Fool cried, causing you to turn back to him. "There's one other thing."
"What?"
He looked unsure, like he didn't want to tell you what other thing was involved but he had to. "In order for you to leave with the book, and for it to start documenting, there's something we need to do."
You weren't sure you wanted to do whatever it was, but you also felt like you didn't have a choice. "Oh..kay…" you breathed out as you walked back to the counter.
"Place the book down again and give me your hand." You followed his instructions for the third time. You held your hand out for him to take; his wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. In his other hand, he pulled a small paring knife from behind the counter and your eyes went wide.
"This may hurt."
That was your only warning before his grip on you tightened and the knife slid across your palm, leaving a perfectly straight, shallow line in its trail. The Fool then flipped your hand over, pressing the cut on the cover of the book. Blood seeped out of the cut, onto the cover, in between your fingers, probably leaving behind a messy, bloody handprint.
You looked up from your hand to glare at the Fool, still holding it in place, still keeping his gaze down. He was muttering something under his breath, but you couldn't make out the words or read his lips. Then he looked up at you.
The Fool's eyes glowed yellow-white, nearly perfect circles, and his body turned shadow-black. All the light from the room was sucked out, channeling itself in the book and into him. The hand holding yours down resembled claws. You tried pulling away, but his grip was iron-tight.
"Let me go!"
"Common souls plain as bread must hold me o’er ‘til better fall dead."
His voice was deeper, more echoing and booming than you had ever heard. You grabbed onto your trapped wrist, hoping to get enough leverage to slide free.
You blinked.
The Fool let go of your hand and you fell backward, landing ungracefully on your behind. The light had returned to the shop, and the Fool looked normal again, all dimpled smiles and normal eyes.
"Sorry about that," he said, ducking his head a bit, as if he were embarrassed, as if he didn't just go through the quickest and most traumatizing transformation. "I've found that just cutting people is faster and easier than explaining it to them."
You couldn't care less about that at this point.
"What was that?!" You demanded to know as you pushed yourself up from the ground.
The Fool had the audacity to look confused. "What was what?"
Your eyebrows shot up. Was he actually doing this right now? After what he just said to you?? "All the darkness and the glowing eyes and the creepy sayings!!" You glanced back and forth between him and the book sitting on the countertop. It looked like your bloody handprint had already dried, somehow.
(And if you were paying attention, you'd notice that the cut on your hand had healed entirely as well.)
"What glowing eyes and creepy sayings?" He asked you, still playing dumb. "I cut your hand and put it on the book, nothing else happened."
He was actually trying to gaslight you right now. He had to be, but you couldn't imagine why that would be the route he was taking. Why not just tell you that he couldn't tell you what happened, chalk it up to being in the Unknown or whatever? Why was he outright deliberately lying to you?
"Ugh!" You screamed out in frustration, not the most clever thing you could've said but it was all that you could think of in the moment. You grabbed the book off the counter and stormed out of the bookshop, just barely hearing the Fool sigh behind you:
"I said something dumb again, didn't I?"
You stomped along the streets, passing people dressed much better for the chilly weather than you were. You knew there were jackets in your wardrobe, but you were too mad to go back for one right now.
Also, you couldn't really go back at this point. You didn't know the layout of the town (the Guide hadn't really given you a tour or anything, just dropped you off with the Fool) and there were no posted maps anywhere. You didn't want to disturb anyone out and about, either, so you settled for calming down a bit and walking around until you found a bench to sit on.
And you sat there, on the bench, your book in your lap, your limbs shivering ever so slightly, and you watched the people roam about.
You weren't sure where exactly you were, or how long you were there,
You only blinked.
At one point, you looked down at the book in your lap, red handprint looking up at you like it didn't know why you were so upset with it.
"I'm going home," you said out loud. "Do you understand, mystical book that's now blood-bound to me? Home."
"You're going home?"
The new voice shocked you, and you looked over your shoulder to see someone in a long, bright red coat, black pants just barely sticking out the bottom. His silver hair was being blown by the gentle wind, and his wide eyes looked at you intensely.
"Who are you?" you asked him, feeling nervous around this new person. You didn't want to have another encounter like you just had with the Fool.
"That doesn't matter right now," he dismissed your question, then bit his plump lip. "You said you're going home?"
"Not yet," you admitted to him, though you weren't sure why. "I've only been here a day, I think."
"So there's a chance you could still stay." He perked up at that idea, and that made you more curious. The Guide and the Fool had both been pretty ambivalent about you staying in Devil Town or leaving, but the newcomer was excited about you sticking around.
"Why do you care? And who are you?" You tried asking again, hoping this time he would tell you. Then a familiar voice rang closer.
"There you are!" The Fool ran towards you—still sitting on the bench, your book now being clutched closely to your chest. You wished it was something else, something softer. Something you were more used to holding like this.
A teddy bear, perhaps.
The Fool was slightly out of breath when he stopped in front of you, something large and black draped over his arm. He started handing the object to you when the person behind you spoke again.
"Fool," he said in way of greeting, voice colder than when he spoke to you.
"Loner," the Fool nodded to him, barely acknowledging him.
You turned again to look at the Loner, at the one the Guide had specifically told you to stay away from. He looked the most harmless of the ones you had met so far, what could have been so bad about him?
"Is she yours?" The Loner asked the Fool.
"For the time—" The Fool started to answer, but he was cut off.
"Because she has a book now."
"Yes, but—"
"So shouldn't she be on her own?"
"Can you stop talking about me like I'm not here?" You asked, starting to get upset all over again. You looked back and forth between the two, wondering what the Loner meant and still why you were supposed to stay away from him.
"Yes, sorry," the Fool addressed you for a moment, before looking at the Loner again. "I can take care of this," he insisted, "please go."
It took the Loner a minute to respond. "Alright."
Then he turned and walked away, without so much as a goodbye to you. You watched him retreat, even as the Fool sat down next to you.
"I'm glad I found you," he said quietly.
Your gaze shot to him, and your anger was reignited. "Why, so you can tell me more creepy things and then pretend they didn't happen?"
"No, I—" He broke off with a sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened, because clearly something did happen."
"And you just don't remember it?" You still didn't believe him, but perhaps his apology was sincere. He did look sorry for scaring you off, at least.
"I don't," he admitted, "truly." The Fool let out another sigh, looking away from you now. "I was thinking, maybe I should tell you some things about Devil Town and how it all works."
Well, that would be a start, both to him making it up to you and to you better understand why you were here and how you could get home. You took a deep breath, holding the cool air inside your lungs for a moment before exhaling and responding.
"That would be really nice, actually."
So the Fool sat down beside you and finally offered you the black object. You fussed with it for a moment, turning it this way and that, before discovering it was a long jacket. He had brought you a jacket but had foregone one himself.
You wrapped the fabric around your shoulders, huddling into it, grateful for the way it helped shield you from the chill. "Thank you," you told him, then met his eyes. He had a hint of that smile on his face again, but his eyes were still somber, carrying the weight of whatever he was about to tell you. After a minute passed without him saying anything, you prompted, "Well?"
"Well," the Fool repeated. He took a breath of his own before delving into it all. "Due to the nature of being in the Unknown, there's not a lot that we know about Devil Town. What we do know is what we can remember, and that gets documented in the books."
You both looked at the book now sitting in your lap as he continued, "It's Devil Town that chooses who you are. When you're in this probationary time like you are now, it pulls from your life before, but if you manage to stay in Devil Town you can change who you are. I was the Bookkeeper before I was the Fool."
"Why did it change?"
The Fool sighed, long and heavy, before answering. "Because I made a very foolish deal with a very powerful entity in order to stay here, and part of that deal is what I believe happened with you back at the shop."
"All the darkness and the glowing eyes and the creepy sayings?" You repeated your words from after that moment, this time asking rather than accusing.
He nodded, "I don't remember what happened, nor what purpose it serves to the Beast who offered me the deal. But I am sorry that it frightened you."
The two of you sat in silence for a bit as you absorbed all this information. The more you learned about Devil Town, the less you wanted to stay here, the more you wanted to make your way back home.
Somewhere in between the soft rustling of wind through leaves, or distant steps and quiet chatter among people, you thought you heard a twig snap behind you. Your head turned to look over your shoulder, to see if perhaps someone was there.
There wasn't.
But it reminded you of the new person you had met before the Fool found you. "Why did the Guide warn me to stay away from the Loner?" you asked, still gazing behind you, waiting to see if he would appear again. "He seemed nice enough."
The Fool huffed a laugh. "The Guide is just overprotective, don't listen to him. The Loner is… well, he's alone, and he's been here longest of us all." You turned to look at him again as he continued. "The Guide probably thinks that the Loner will try to convince you to stay in Devil Town, but the Guide doesn't wish this for anyone. He would rather people travel to the Great Unknown. Himself included."
"Well, I don't want to stay in Devil Town. I want to go home." You believed that if you said it enough, you would manifest the right path into existence, or perhaps get enough clues to get you there on your own.
"Time changes all things," the Fool smiled, dimples prominent on his cheeks. "You may not feel so at the end of the month." He finally stood, stretching his arms over his head, then turned to look at you. "Take the book with you as you explore. As long as you're on probation, you can read through it."
"But once my month is up—"
"It will join all the others on the shelf. If you do go home, or end up in the Great Unknown, then your story will stop there. But if you come back to Devil Town, it will continue to document your happenings."
"Any advice for exploring?" you decided to ask before he left you alone again. The Fool's hands were in his pockets, and he looked ready to leave back to the comfort and warmth of the bookshop.
"Be careful who you talk to, and more careful who you trust." The Fool warned you. His warning sounded awfully similar to the one the Guide had left for you, albeit less sinister. "And stay away from the river," he added, almost as an afterthought, "especially if you're by yourself."
With that, the Fool turned and began walking away, back to his little shop, and you looked down at the book—your book—once more. It hadn't changed at all since you came to this bench, but it felt bigger than before, more important now.
You couldn't remember how you got here, but the book would document everything that happened to you while you were here. And before your month was up, you could read through it. Was this how you got home? Exploring and remembering and piecing things together?
You curled the book to your chest again, huddling further underneath the jacket. The Fool had told you time moved differently here, so you decided to make time move.
You blinked.
🍂 thanks for reading!!
🍂 tagging: @secfir
#bts#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts writing#bts au#bts over the garden wall#bts autumn#bts mini series#namjoon x reader#devil town#part two#btswritersclub
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perhaps season five apocalypse vibes for the prompts?
(btw i love your writing so so SO much like you are such an inspiration to me anyway bye <3)
AWWW okay first that's so sweet tysm <333 sending you a big ole hug
and second, i LOVE my s5 apocalypse vibes, so here you go. have some byler in a (new and improved) castle byers together.
—
built to fall apart (then fall back together)
If Will had a nickel for every time he has been forced to hide inside a little fort made of branches and twigs from a deadly monster hunting him down and wanting to eat him alive… he’d have two nickels.
And look. Okay. Two nickels? Not a lot of money. You really can’t buy anything with two nickels, not like you probably could when his mom and Hopper were his age or maybe even younger.
But two times hiding inside a Castle Byers from a demogorgon?
That’s two times too many.
This isn’t fair by any means, but then again, nothing about Will’s life has been fair since November 6, 1983. Ever since that first encounter with the demogorgon, it’s been one bad thing after another, and well… ending up back here feels annoying but also not surprising in the least.
At least this time, Will isn’t alone, and this time, he’s not technically in the Upside Down—though nowadays, all of Hawkins might as well be the Upside Down. It… it’s gotten bad these past two years. As One has been recovering, the Upside Down has been growing, reaching further and further into Hawkins, and transforming Will’s hometown into something ripped right out of an apocalyptic movie.
Everything is coming to blows, and Will can feel it. He can feel him, ready to soon return and put and end to all their planning and preparing. One is just waiting now and biding his time—simply looking for the perfect opportunity to strike, to come back, and to put an end to humanity once and for all.
It’s only a matter of time now.
Hell, for all Will knows, this could be the beginning of the end, and wouldn’t that be funny in the world’s least funny way? To end right where he began—running and hiding for his life from the same type of monster that kidnapped him all those years ago. Because right now, there’s a demogorgon sniffing around the abandoned forests right outside Will’s old childhood home, desperately seeking out its meal, and hoping to finish what it’s already started, and right now, Will is seventeen but feels twelve years old again—terrified for his life and wondering if this might be how he dies.
Will takes a shuddered breath, his eyes wandering down to the blood gash on his ankle. The strips of cloth that Mike had desperately tied around the wound are already soaked, dark maroon tainting the soft green fabric of Mike’s bandana. Bile rises in the back of his throat, but he forces it down.
Sooner or later, the demogorgon is going to find him. It always does, doesn’t it? Castle Byers – it’s not such a good place to hide. The demogorgon found him there, in the Upside Down, anyways, and the first Castle Byers had been torn down by Will’s own hands in one final act of self-loathing, right before the Mind Flayer had returned.
This hiding spot’s probably the worst place they could be right now.
And yet, despite the fact that they could be moments away from death, Will can’t help but look around at their silly little hiding spot.
It’s bigger than the original Castle Byers was, which is definitely a good thing in this instance. Will’s not so sure that the both of them would’ve been able to cram inside the original Castle Byers—not with Mike Wheeler’s gangly limbs and with the rifles and other supplies they’d both brought on patrol. But still, though this new fort is larger than the original one was, it’s not that much bigger, so both Will and Mike are pressed against each other, close enough that Will can hear his best friend’s unsteady breathing and feel the way he’s trembling.
Will’s hand twitches, brushing up against Mike’s hand, and in the silence, it’s easy to hear the way Mike’s breath catches. Neither one of them says anything, and Will’s never been more glad for the darkness and how it conceals how red his face must be right now.
The darkness, however, also makes it a little bit harder to take in the rest of this new Castle Byers. All Will knows is that there are little pictures and drawings and posters taped to the walls of the fort, just like in the old Castle Byers. On the little table beside Will, there are a few books and other trinkets, but that’s not what catches Will’s eye.
No – what catches his eye is a picture, a little difficult to see from far away, but luckily close enough that Will can reach out and grab it. Sure enough, it’s exactly what he thinks it is: the old pictures of the Party that he had ripped in half, right down the middle before the destruction of the original Castle Byers. The picture is a little faded and there’s a piece of tape holding it together, but it’s here.
It’s here, and Castle Byers is here too, and Mike is here, his hand clenched tightly around Will’s own.
“Come on!” Mike had yelled, his arm wrapped around Will as the two of them limped through the forest. “I know a place we can hide!”
He knew this place was here.
Mike knew that this new Castle Byers was here.
Which means…
Will looks around again, taking in as much as he can of the rebuilt fort. His heart pounds inside his chest, and outside, a monster lurks, waiting for the right moment to strike and to kill them both.
Inside? Inside, Will is reeling—overwhelmed with a dozen different emotions and thoughts swirling around inside his head. Mike… Mike rebuilt Castle Byers for him. At some point or another, after their fight, after Will destroyed his childhood fort, Mike must have come back to the forest and rebuilt this place to be nearly identical to the one Will grew up with.
Why? Will thinks, and he dares to look over at his best friend. There’s worry written all over Mike’s face, but when he catches Will looking at him, his expression softens. Why would he rebuild this place?
Mike’s gaze flickers to the walls of their shared hiding spot; then, he scoots in closer, so there’s no space left between the two of them. “You probably have a lot of questions,” he whispers, just barely loud enough for Will to hear.
And honestly, Will can’t help but laugh, both because that is the understatement of the year and because this is the worst possible time to find out about this. If they slip up even just a little, then they’ll end up dead—demogorgon dinner in the middle of the forest, miles away from their family and friends.
“Yeah,” Will breathes, and he glances over again, meeting Mike’s eyes. “Probably… probably not a good time to ask them though.”
Something like a laugh escapes Mike’s lips. “Probably not,” he echoes back and scoots closer. Neither one of them says anything else, and so silence settles over the two of them once again like an old, unwelcome enemy. The only thing that Will can hear is the nervous thumpthumpthump of his own heartbeat, joining in with Mike’s careful breaths taken every few seconds. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and—
“Will?”
Will flinches and turns back around, so he and Mike can meet eyes once again. It’s a little difficult to see in the darkness, but there’s hesitancy written all over Mike’s face. He looks like he wants to say something—something that’s urgent and something that he’s been waiting forever to say and something that Will simply can’t figure out just by studying his best friend’s face. But whatever it is… it’s important to Mike to say this.
Important enough that he’d risk being heard and found by the demogorgon to say it.
“Yeah?” Will whispers back. He scoots closer too, and maybe it’s the blood loss or the fear or the adrenaline talking, but Will thinks he sees Mike’s eyes wide and hears his breath catches and notices the way Mike’s gaze flickers downward for one, two, three moments too long.
Oh, Will thinks, somewhere distantly in the back of his mind. Maybe that’s the answer to his question.
Why would Mike rebuild this place?
It feels a little bit ironic, but Will thinks that maybe, just maybe, the answer might just be the same reason he tore down Castle Byers in the first place.
(Because I love you.
Even though I shouldn’t.
Even though it’s supposed to be wrong.
I’m in love with you.)
Mike swallows the lump in his throat. His gaze has returned to Will’s eyes now, instead of his lips—his lips—and he reaches up with a trembling hand to cup Will’s cheek. This time, Will’s breath catches, and he watches with wide eyes as Mike thumbs away some of the dirt on Will’s cheek, taking special care to be as gentle as possible.
“I…” Mike starts to say, but he stops again, lips pressed together nervously. He looks away again, this time glancing out at the world beyond the shared hiding spot. It takes another moment for him to look back at Will, but when he does, he seems a lot more at ease, that familiar determination returning to his face. “We might not make it out of here.”
Will winces. Truthfully, a small part of him had almost forgotten about that, but yeah… that’s the unfortunate reality of the situation they’re in. There’s a monster outside of Castle Byers, and it wants to kill both of them. Will’s ankle is currently bleeding through, and any moment now, the demogorgon might catch onto his scent and come have both of them for dinner.
Romantic. So romantic.
“Right.” Will nods slowly and swallows the lump in his own throat, looking down at their intertwined hands. It feels like some sick joke from the universe that this would happen—that the two of them would finally find the courage to confront everything that has been going on between them, to finally acknowledge the path they’ve been stumbling down together for quite some time now—only when they’re about to die.
Leave it to the universe to give him a shred of happiness and a taste of a happy ending, only to rip it away.
Mike takes another breath, and he squeezes Will’s hand tighter than he ever has before. “I-I guess,” he whispers nervously, “I… I just wanted to say—”
“Don’t,” Will blurts out.
Mike freezes. In the darkness, his eyes go wide, and he stares back at Will in complete shock. “W-what?”
Will takes a deep breath, glancing at the entrance to Castle Byers, then back at Mike again. “Don’t,” he repeats, softer this time. “Whatever you’re going to say… don’t say it… not if you’re only saying it because we’re about to die.”
He pauses here, swallowing the lump in his throat and looking away, unable to meet Mike’s eyes. “If you really mean it,” Will says quietly, “then… just wait. Wait until we’re out of here or… or at least until we know we’re safe. Okay?”
For a while, Mike is quiet, and he grows tense beside Will, like he’s not sure how to take this request. The silence is dreadful, and it makes Will almost regret stopping him from saying this.
But… if Mike is really going to say what Will thinks he’s going to say, then he can wait. He can wait until the two of them are safe, until they don’t have to hide from a monster trying to kill them, until they both can actually focus on what’s been said to each other, instead of fearing for their goddamn lives. They’ve waited this long. They can wait a little bit longer.
“Okay,” comes Mike’s response, a whisper barely audible in the silence. He shifts closer again to Will and moves, wrapping an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulling him close. “But… but I do mean it, Will. I swear I do.”
Thumpthumpthump goes Will’s nervous heart, and despite the circumstances the two of them are in, Will can’t help but smile. “Good,” he whispers back and looks up at his best friend, meeting his gaze in the darkness. “Then… I’m excited to hear what you have to say. You know… if we don’t die.”
A quiet huff of a laugh escapes Mike’s lips, and he rests his head on Will’s shoulder, hugging him close. “We better not die,” he mumbles. “That would really, really suck.”
“Yeah,” Will whispers back with a laugh of his own. “It really, really would.”
Neither one of them says anything else after this. True to his word, Mike doesn’t say what he had tried to say, but at the same time, he does. The two of them… they’ve never been big on words, anyways. Actions have always spoken louder. So, in the darkness of Castle Byers—that was rebuilt by Mike for Will—the words I love you are never spoken aloud, but they’re said to one another anyways.
Mike holds him closer, and he gently runs his hand up and down Will’s arm, keeping him calm and reminding him that he isn’t alone. I love you, Mike says, when he lets Will lie against his chest, and when he wraps an old blanket around the two of them. I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love you too, Will thinks to himself, arms wrapped around Mike’s waist. He listens to the quiet sound of Mike’s heartbeat and forces himself to breathe. They’re going to make it out of here.
They have to.
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morbid, grim and doctor butler | victorian!scientist!austin butler x assistant!reader
this is a request for my little "three days of blurbs" event. feel free to send in your own requests ! there's still two and a half days left to go.
request: i would love to see victorian!scientist! austin and his assistant (lover). like what does their day-to-day established relationship look like? they definitely give me morticia and gomez adams vibes and i love that!
requested by: @stephthestallion thank you, cherub :)
word count: 1.3k
warnings/notes: this is in reference to a fic/series that i am working on! here is the original post. i didn't want to spoil any of the spooky-kooky fun that i have planned for this couple, so instead enjoy this hilarious wedding announcement. i hope you loved reading this as much as i loved writing it, angel. ( and yes ! they are exactly like morticia and gomez ! ahhh ! i'm so glad you picked up on that. )
There was very little that women of high society cared for more than gossip. When your daily life is pure monotony, any hint of change will be seen as a reprieve. Fine china, porcelain teacups clanging against porcelain saucers, filled the sunroom like windchimes as the ladies nursed their long-since lukewarm tea.
The husbands, better known as “their keepers”, were all piled into the living room. Their boisterous laughter spilled out and into the hall, reminding the ladies that the men weren’t too far. Still, they were far enough away that it didn’t matter what they talked about. Consequences and scolding be damned, each one of the ladies were on the hunt for knowledge.
“So,” Lady Christine, an adorably plump woman with big brown eyes and sultry pink lips spoke up. Her thick emerald earrings dangled as she spoke. “Has anyone heard anything about Doctor Butler? I walked by his shop the other day and was mortified to see that it was still closed. My complexion hasn’t been the same since he left.”
Doctor Austin Butler was a scientific genius, yet the people of Chicago liked to think of him as their resident magician. Any ailment, any issue, any disease- Doctor Butler could fix it. However, for the better part of a month he had been missing. His windows had been boarded up, and there had been no sign of life in the shop since. The city folk were worried that he might never come back, but a note written in his neat writing kept them from panicking;
"𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏.
𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏,
-𝒟𝓇. 𝒜𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃 𝐵𝓊𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓇 "
Morbid. Vague. And Grim.
Nothing in the note seemed out of the ordinary for the very strange and eclectic Doctor Butler.
“Mrs Hawthorn’s husband is a professor at the university, and happens to be good friends with Dr Butler. Isn’t that right, dear?” At the noblewoman’s words all heads snapped over towards the meek and mild Mrs Hawthorne.
The brightly dressed and bejeweled crowd often ignored the mousy haired woman all together whenever the poor little thing was forced upon them during social events like this. She flinched under their gaze, nervously wringing her gloved hands. She felt obsolete in her maroon dress and simple pearl earrings. While her husband was well respected and liked in the community, they were nowhere near as monetarily successful as the company they often kept. Doctor Butler included.
They motioned for her to speak, their impatient eyes glued to her. Lady Lacey even waved a diamond encrusted hand towards her, practically commanding her to speak. The teacup in her hands began to shake, the tea threatening to spill. She had to use one hand to hold the saucer, and the other hand to hold the handle so it wouldn’t tumblr out of her grasp.
“Speak up. What is it that your husband has told you?” Lady Christine seemed a little too eager to hear about the man’s whereabouts.
And who in their right mind wouldn’t want to keep tabs on the bachelor? Every woman in Chicago fancied him. He was tall and able bodied, incredibly smart and well read, and it didn’t help that he was more handsome than a Greek god. He wasn’t like any other man though. As far as everyone knew, there wasn’t a single woman that he had ever courted. He seemed generally disinterested in mingling with the masses, and tended to avoid social gatherings all together. Any flirtations that a lady might direct at him were promptly ignored or shut down. He was peculiar.
Women, like the ones that were currently pecking at Mrs Hawthorne for information, were obsessed with the idea of the unobtainable. And Doctor Austin Butler was just that. So like vultures circling over a freshly decaying corpse, they leaned in close to the frail woman when she cleared her throat. Ready to gobble up any tidbit of information.
“He’s gone to New York to test out his latest invention.” Too simple. The small woman’s answer was far too simple for all of their liking.
The ladies all sank back into their plush chairs, raising their cups to their mouths with narrowed eyes. After a brief moment Lady Lacey decided that the answer was wholly unsatisfactory and spoke up.
“What else? I can tell that you’re holding out on us.” The group of women all nodded their heads, once again putting the poor Mrs Hawthorne in a bind. Because yes, she was holding back. Austin had come to her husband in confidence though, and had even nervously asked for advice.
“Miss (L/n) is from New York, isn’t she? Lovely girl, she is. I think she was a model. That must be the reason why Dr Butler hired her in the first place. He is a man, after all.” Lady Christine took a bite from the strawberry tart that she had coveted since the moment she sat down at the gathering.
Mrs Hawthorne flinched at the rude assumption. Why- Miss (L/n) was right on par with Austin and his smarts. The two of them were a perfect match, both in looks and in brains. For the group of woman to try and dumb her down, as well as to claim that Austin was only after her for her gorgeous features, was an insult. She straightened up, feeling challenged. She felt the need to stand up for her friends.
“Why yes, she is from New York. She graduated with a degree in science and modern medicine, just as Doctor Butler has. The invention isn’t the only reason why they are in New York though.” It was silent enough to hear a pin drop in the room.
The ladies sat frozen in their chairs, practically holding their breath as they waited for the woman to finally speak up.
“They got married. They wanted her family to be able to attend the wedding.” And it was all of the women’s worst fears realized. Because yes, they were all married women. Trapped for life, whether they wanted to be or not. Doctor Butler had been a nice piece of eye candy though. He was anxious and awkward, and there was something about that. . . that embolstered the women. They thought that he was adorable, odd mannerisms and all.
“I knew that he was courting her. Living all alone up in that great big house of his? She probably seduced him.” Lady Christine spat, her pastry forgotten.
This comment made Mrs Hawthorne’s eye twitch, and she was quick to grab a fistful of her own skirts to keep herself from stomping out of the room and demanding that her husband take her home.
“It was Austin that made the first move, actually. He was absolutely smitten with her from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. In fact, that’s exactly what he told my husband and I when he asked the both of us for marital advice. I’ve never seen a couple so happy in all of my life. They were made for each other.” And that was that.
The mortified looks on all of the women’s faces made the breach of trust all worth it. Because Mrs Hawthorne was sure that Miss (L/n)- no, Mrs Butler, would have had quite the laugh over the entire situation.
Because there was no arguing about the chemistry between the two of them. Anyone that saw the two together, whether it was at the apothecary or in town at the market, knew it was as though the two lived and breathed for each other. When one of them moved, the other followed. Like magnets.
It was cosmic. It was destined.
It was perfect.
@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior
#foreverdolly#dolly’s three days of blurbs#austin butler one shot#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler fic#austin butler fluff#austin butler imagine#austin butler drabble#austin butler x you#austin butler x y/n#austin butler x reader#reader insert#elvis 2022#elvis movie#fanfic writer#fanfic blog#austin butler fandom
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A Heart of Gold
Here is the Kiryu fic!! It came out a bit differently than I originally intended but you know what that's fine lol. I also found getting his personality right a bit challenging but I hope I at least somewhat managed to capture his vibe!! Please enjoy!
Yakuza Kiwami 2
Kazuma Kiryu x Reader
Summary: A year has passed, and the dark memories remain, but waking up next to him has never felt so right.
Notes: Takes place before the events of the game, vague spoilers for Kiwami 1 (nothing specific, just mentions of loss etc), Fluff, Suggestive themes towards the end!
Also posted on AO3!
The soft, comforting sheets shifted below you as you moved, your limbs moving on instinct to bless you with the sensation of a good morning's stretch. Your bare feet stuck out from under the blanket and your mouth opened wide for a yawn. It had been a good night, the best in a while, as the relief of knowing that you wouldn’t have to do anything of importance the next day melted all your tension away. And it was even better when you woke up next to him.
The right side of the bed was rarely empty, as life had gotten relatively normal recently. Though the events that occurred a year ago still lingered in the air and in the minds of those involved, you were sure everyone appreciated the tranquility that followed. Especially him.
You slowly turned to him and smiled to yourself softly. There he was, eyes closed, the usual creases between his eyebrows gone, and his mouth slightly agape as he breathed. You had only recently started seeing him like this, sleeping so soundly without worry. It brought you some peace of mind. After all that had happened, after everything he had lost, he deserved it.
No matter how many times you woke up next to him, you were always entranced by his features, especially when he looked so at peace like this. You were certain that the nightmares still haunted him, and they probably would continue doing so for years to come, but the sight of him sleeping next to you in serenity at least told you that he felt safe enough to let his guard down with you. That alone made you the happiest person in Japan.
His face was so enticing, you couldn’t help but place your hand on his cheek and continue looking at him fondly. Kiryu barely shifted at your action, too absorbed in his dream. Your eyes ran over the details of his handsome face. He looked as stoic as ever, save for the tiniest twitch of his eyebrows every now and then. His breathing was steady and quiet, and thin strands of dark hair kissed his forehead. You smiled to yourself once again.
He was quite adorable.
Caressing your thumb along his cheek, you spoke gently: “Kazuma.” No response.
You withheld a laugh. In a way, it felt rude to wake him up from his peaceful slumber, but you also wanted to see his dark eyes looking at you with the adoration you had come to love almost as much as the man himself. So you tried again:
“Kazumaa…” You drawled at him again, adding some melody to your quiet voice. His closed eyes twitched slightly, but they did not yet open. You pouted and moved closer, curling some of your fingers behind his neck, the tips making contact with the short strands of his hair.
You found yourself smiling more as you heard him groan softly, finally responding to your voice. He shifted, readjusting his position slightly, but his eyes remained closed. In fact, you thought you noticed him squeezing them shut even further as he sunk deeper into the pillow.
Instinctively, though rather lazily, Kiryu put one of his strong arms around you in a way you were familiar with. It gave you the opportunity to shuffle even closer to him, to the point where your noses were almost touching.
It felt special to have him so close to you. You could see how he relaxed his otherwise tense muscles became around you, and how your presence brought him the comfort he most certainly needed. He was always on edge, for reasons that had become clear to you over time, and had to maintain that Dragon of Dojima spirit he had become so renowned for. It was a part of him, yes, but you had always felt like perhaps he never expected or asked for such a title.
To you, however, he was just Kazuma Kiryu. A man with a heart of gold that you’d do anything for. If only he knew how lucky you felt.
Fueled by your thoughts of affection, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss so chaste and faint, it left you wondering if you should have been more daring with it as when you went to pull away, you already missed his lips.
Kiryu’s hold on you tightened, and all doubt in your mind of him still being asleep got washed away when he rolled onto his back, effortlessly laying you on his chest. His arms were securely wrapped around your form and finally, his eyes fluttered open. Your hands quickly found his face again.
“Good morning, handsome.”
Kiryu’s lips twitched slightly upward at your greeting, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back. “Good morning.”
God, you loved that deep voice of his, even more so when the raspiness of the morning accompanied it. You couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him again, and he returned it in the way you were used to.
Pressing your ear against his chest, you listened to his steady heartbeat and traced his arm and shoulder with your digits. His gentle hand rubbed your back in the most comforting way.
“How did you sleep?” You asked. It had become somewhat of a habit of yours, especially after the times his sleep was plagued by nightmares. He rarely told you about them, but you always knew.
“Good. I slept good,” he replied, briefly glancing at the time and quirking one of his eyebrows. “Don’t you have work today?”
You shook your head against his chest before lifting it up to meet his warm gaze with your own. “I have the day off,” you announced, to which Kiryu let the faintest chuckle of what to you sounded almost like relief.
“That’s good to hear.” His brown eyes softened as he looked at you, his comforting touch at your back almost lulling you back to sleep. You took in the kind glow in his irises, wondering how they could ever be used to scare street thugs away. You of course had seen how he used his stern scowl to fend off attackers, and it made you appreciate moments like these even more.
“We can do anything we want, Kazuma,” you said with a small giggle, bringing your hands to his perfectly sculpted shoulders, and thinking of all the possible things you could spend the day doing.
Kiryu’s eyes wandered to the door at the other end of the room, eyebrows frowning the tiniest amount as if he were buried in his thoughts for a brief moment. “Do you think…” He began, quickly drifting his eyes towards you again. “...Haruka is still asleep?”
Oh?
Your eyes widened slightly at his somewhat out-of-the-blue question and the twinge of warmth on his face told you more than words ever could. That was quite bold, for him anyway.
With a small grin, you turned your head towards the door, his question and the implications behind it echoing in your head loudly. You giggled to yourself as your thoughts traveled farther than you should have allowed them to. With a playful sparkle in your eyes, you looked at him as you dawned on an idea.
“Shower?”
Kiryu looked at you for a moment, seemingly surprised at your proposal, but his expression quickly melted, and he gave you a firm nod, before lifting the blanket off the both of you. Your hands lingered on his chest as you raised yourself from the comfort it had given you.
As you got up, Kiryu held your hand, as he so often did. It was one of those little habits of his own. And you adored it. He was not the best with his words when it came to affection, but the small physical things he did told you all you needed to know. He held your hand when you walked, played with your hair when you cuddled, had his protective arms around you when you cried, and held you close when you slept.
All of that and more was the reason you loved him so.
Whilst he led you to the bathroom by your hand, your eyes fixated on his irezumi that beautifully adorned his back. The way the ink twisted and distorted with the flow of his muscles as he walked was almost hypnotizing, it was impossible to look away. The dragon that watched his back was stunning, the intricate details always blew you away and pulled you back in. And the fact that such fierce imagery was carried by the most kind-hearted and loving man you had ever met gave it an all-new meaning in your mind.
You could stare at it for hours.
Kiryu flinched ever so slightly when he felt your hand on his back, and as he turned to you at speeds fueled by sudden surprise, you immediately retreated your hand and gave him an apologetic look.
“Sorry.” You hadn’t meant to startle him in the slightest, you had just been so absorbed in your thoughts that you let your muscles move on their own. “It’s just… So beautiful,” you concluded, keeping your eyes on the image at his back.
Kiryu let out a brief chuckle, your words sticking to him like tar. It was not the first time you had expressed your adoration for his irezumi, but every time, he felt a tingle in his core.
“It’s not the only beautiful thing here.”
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his reply. It was very… Him. Traditional, maybe a little cheesy, but oh so endearing. You never got tired of it.
With warmth on your cheeks, you spoke:
“Very smooth, Kaz,” you teased and your free hand found his chest again. “You’re getting better at this.”
Kiryu huffed and rolled his eyes softly, chiding himself for forgetting how much you enjoyed toying with him like this. Despite his outward reaction though, he found it charming.
“Thank you for your input.” The sarcasm and humor in his voice weren’t lost on you, and you found yourself laughing once more as he opened the bathroom door. Though you couldn’t see it, he was smiling as well, thanks to the pleasant sound that was your laughter.
His hand finally left yours as you closed the door behind you, eager to start the day in the right way with him. Probable ulterior motives aside, you really did only crave a shower, but you were glad that he was willing to join you.
You walked up to him again, eyes locking with his. Kiryu held onto your waist, while your hands were on his broad shoulders. No words were exchanged, nor did they need to. You could spend hours just looking into his eyes that had seen so much. Too much, even.
The pain was not fully gone, you surmised, and you didn’t expect it to be so for a long time. You were however proud of how far he had come. He had lost so much, but he pulled himself up and tried to make things right for Haruka and you despite everything. It was admirable, but you also wanted him to know that you were willing to share some of that burden with him.
You were sure he knew this and saw it in your efforts. He was an observant man, after all.
Kiryu loosened his hold and glanced at the shower behind him. “Shall we?” You smiled and nodded.
Before he had time to do anything else though, you brought your lips to his ear, sending shivers down his spine with your whispers:
“Remember Kazuma,” your fingers lightly traced the muscles on his shoulders and neck.
“We have time.”
~
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#yakuza#yakuza imagines#yakuza x reader#kazuma kiryu#kiryu kazuma#yakuza kazuma kiryu#kiryu x reader#kazuma kiryu x reader#kazuma kiryu imagines#kiryu x you#reader insert#fluff#yakuza kiwami 2#ryu ga gotoku#ryu ga gotoku kiwami 2
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OddClan year 1
Shystar - leader
Old leader of the clan, she pretty set in her ways and refuses to change, But she will go whith compromises as long as its benefits the clan.
She choose Fleckglint to be the deputy despite his young age becouse she believes that he might come whith some fresh perspective. But she came to regret it later this year whith all new faces he brought.
Saplingspeck and Timberwater are her very good friend they been through a lot together.
Right now she in Medicine den. One of PatchouliClan warriors wounded her while on she was patrol.
Fleckglint - deputy
Special little fella. Believes that Clan needs to change so he uses deputy position to ensure outsiders can get into clan.
Later this year he and Medicine cat Whiskersnow developed cute crushes on each other and after some miscommunication they became mates. She now pregnant whith his kits.
Whiskersnow - Medicine cat
Others members of the clan kinda upset that since Whiskersnow is busy whith her future litter of kits she wont have time treating injuries. Which is a shame she a very talented healer.
For some time before Fleckglint confessed his feeling to her she also considered becoming mates whith Timberwater, but ultimately realised that her feeling are not mutual and thay see each others very differently.
Admirers Beamstripe for have brave she is and will always complete task given
Onefur - warrior
Oldest warrior currently, honestly he looks like trouble, but actually really cares for his clanmates. Loves all of them.
Being the oldest beside Shystar he also know a lot of storie about how OddClan used to be.
He very close Beamstripe since she was a kit, practically treats her as a little sister. They would often train together and share pray.
Saplingspeck - warrior
There honesty not much i can say abou Saplingspeck, she just has nice vibes. She one of the few cats who treat new cats kindly.
Was grabbed by eagle this year, but she fine now. But is slowed her mentorship of Condorpaw and because of it she still apprentice.
Good friend whith Honeytuft
Originally was Loyal, but changed to Charismatic later this year.
Honeytuft - warrior
Originally she was fierce, but i guess developing crush on Onefur decided to be more bloodthirsty so he would like her more.
Mentored Beamstripe and very proud of training some one so talented.
Timberwater - warrior
At firs shameless cat later decided to be more adventurous.
Still has crush on Whiskersnow and absolutely hates Fleckglint (Hope nothing bad happens.)
Also constantly argues whith Honeytuft.
Mentored Wishfeather but doesnt think much of anything positive about them.
I feel like she has a lot of complicated feeling in mind, hope she can sort them out.
Bigflip - warrior
She appeared once saying that StarClan guided her here and whith Fleckglint convincing other to agree.
The truth is that she lied, no StarClan guided her here, but Dark Forest. Her clan vorships them and consider anyone who have bond whith them chocen.
She doesnt know why Dark forest guided her here, but its better keep her past secret. Just in case.
Venti - warrior
He was abandoned by his Twolegs on the road and if not for Fleckglint would died of greencough. He fine now, but seems like experience left him little traumatized.
He developed crush on Fleckglint after that but sees that he very happy whith his current mate and afraid to confess his feeling.
Beamstripe - Warrior
Everyone darling. Very active cat and if she has free time spends it on battle training.
She often agrees whith Fleckglint but only because she doesnt like Shystar much more. But she doesnt like both of them.
Whishfeather - Warrior
New warrior, she still getting a hang of things after her apprenticeship. Timberwater teched her to be more social whith whith other which is a little surprising.
She best friends whith Codorpaw and tries cheer her up, because despite being the same age she still an apprentice.
Condorpaw - Apprentice
I really like her sprite :D
She got hut by one of PatchouliClan warrior which delaid her apprenticeship even further. But others support her and tell her that everything will be okay. Especially her best friend Wishfeather.
Really close whith Whiskersnow.
FallenCricket - Medicine cat.
Recently joined, mother of three, she was exiled from PatchouliClan for something that she doesnt want to talk about, but other cats have a pretty good guess.
Her three kits Newtkit, Hazelkit and Whistlekit making themself pretty comfortable in the clan.
#clangen#Oddclan#warrior cats#shystar#Fleckglint#Whiskersnow#Fallencricket#Wishfeather#Condortrail#Beamstripe#Bigflip#Timberwater#Onefur#Suplingspeck#Honeytuft
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Team Good summons Azazel. As far as Clare’s foresight goes, the story also introduces the mystery of Magnus’ father, since it will be also revealed in the next and final book. considering Magnus originally wasn't a son of a Greater Demon
We can always trust Simon to narrate Alec and Magnus’ relationship issues. We can also trust Alec to have such cartoonish reactions since more is more and less is not enough for you to get it.
What is up with these ancient and/or centuries old beings harassing Alec about his relationship with Magnus. Well, in Azazel's case, probably millions or billions of years or something.
Azazel wants one happy memory from each of the participants in exchange of his plan proposition. Not the solution but an idea for one. Eventually Magnus banishes him, because they will need time to think about what Azazel said. Jordan and Maia then arrive at Magnus’ place.
Like it’s worth enough to start? Like it means necessarily anything?
→ Their cheeks were red from the cold, and Maia was wearing Jordan’s leather jacket. (I'm just bored of even the smallest things being dramatized to the max)
We cut to Jace and Clary’s grand escape from the Italian police for stealing the boat.
Related to a message I received a bit ago. Implying Jace held Clary while they escaped, because why would Clary know how to do any of that herself? It’s not like she has been trained by Jace to do anything.
They eventually return to the moving house of Sebastian who is entertained by two scantily dressed girls, one of which is a vampire. They talk shit, then Jace and Clary go up the get ready for bed. Clary goes to get a nightgown.
The idea of dressing yourself with something you father bought for your mother in hopes of her wearing something sexy. The writing doesn’t really acknowledge that so let’s not either.
I’m getting Not Like Other Girls vibes, but also far less than say, in City of Bones. This seems more good-natured musing rather than putting other girls down because you aren’t that feminine yourself.
Clary goes back to Jace, and things get hot and heavy like with every other scene with them in this book. The honestly do nothing but heavily make out whenever they are together. Which is ironic considering that Clare herself has said that Clary didn’t have a relationship with Jace in this book because Jace here was not himself but controlled by Sebastian. Which makes me question why there is so much physicality written between them then.
Plenty of reasons to stop. Mainly the one mentioned above: Jace not being Jace but one controlled by Sebastian. A reason of which Clary constantly reminds herself of, to the absolute point of being tiringly repetitive. How many times and ways you can write about Jace not being Jace because this book sure does utilize it all and then some.
Vulnerable as in for an attack with a weapon? A sharp one perhaps? :)
Glad we agree, not that it changes Clary’s behavior. It’s insane that Clare thinks that as long as she keeps writing and reminding everyone how Jace is not Jace and Clary is conflicted, it changes absolutely nothing of worth in Clary’s behavior because they keep canoodling to the end. So we enter the repetitive narrative every single time and scene they get physically close.
We cut to Simon sitting on the bed in one of the spare rooms at Magnus’. Isabelle comes to him to gossip about Maia and Jordan, because everything needs and audience and gossiping over for it to be worth something.
Why is Simon happy for Jordan? Fuck Jordan.
→ “Oh. No. No, not at all. I’m glad for Maia. This will make her really happy.” Because fuck Jordan and Jordan’s happiness. Simon was Maia’s friend first.
Then we cut to Alec visiting Camille again. In this scene, the idea that Alec visits Camille to learn more about Magnus (because Magnus is unwilling to disclose any of that information himself) becomes apparent.
This also feeds into the mystery of Magnus’ parentage and how cool and great of a demon his dad is. Compare this insistency on Magnus’ father now to the original version City of Ashes where Magnus wasn’t part Greater Demon at all.
While actively screwing up everything.
Magnus told Alec not to trust Camille but blindly trust Magnus. And then people were somehow surprised that these sucky adults both played into Alec’s insecurities and the end result was what it was? And then accountability was on no one else than Alec. I hate this storyline more so for the fact that no one acknowledges their shortcoming towards Alec but it is for Alec to carry the heavy load of his own culpability.
→ I don’t think Clare ever realized how bad it is to constantly underline Alec’s youth and age.
→ Also why are we taking relationship advice from Camille? Also consider how screwed up a situation is when the only person you can go to ask advice is someone like Camille. Do we acknowledge at least that much in the story? Nope.
→ Also sad.
I don’t believe Clare agrees with this because it is the narrative she distances herself from the further the series go, and effectively abandons it in City of Heavenly Fire. And she writes Camille, an antagonist, spouting this. But let’s not pretend that this isn’t exactly how she has written and keeps writing Clary and Jace’s relationship. They would survive every death except each other’s.
The rest is just nonsense as usual but that part stuck out. Cut to Clary dreaming her dreams.
I can’t with the scars. This book out of all the other books so far is absolutely obsessed (relative to each other) with the “ugliness” of scars that heavenly warriors as the Nephilim have and whether other HEAVENLY WARRIORS as the NEPHILIM may find them ugly. It’s such a weird mentality to have when their source of power and skill and ability is rooted in the very thing that gives them scars and makes them different from the mundanes.
This should be a nonissue, but it’s beginning to feel like obsession over how hot these specific scars actually are—the ones created by faded runes. Since unless you’re Sophie and have an actual ugly one right on your face, then the writing will go above and beyond to tell the readers how it isn’t really that ugly and she is so pretty you barely notice this big-ass thing on her face.
Her spine. Neck would suffice, especially since “her spine” is used so many times instead just ‘back’ or ‘neck’.
→ “Jace’s arms were around her, his fingers tracing a slow line up and down her spine.”
→ “The two of them fit together, as always, her head under his chin, her spine against the hard muscles of his chest and stomach…”
And then just two paragraphs over:
→ “She slept like that, her head tucked under Jace’s chin, her spine fitted to his body, their legs intertwined.”
Then there’s plenty more to come such as: “from the base of her spine”, “pressing against her spine”, another “heart beating against her spine”, “shudder go down her spine” and another “base of her spine”.
Which in some cases it’s fine and descriptive but mostly “her back” would suffice.
Clary wakes up and leaves Jace to sleep. She goes downstairs and sits with Sebastian.
Really, I thought he poured both for himself.
Obviously he is lying and all, but Clary was there to hear him in City of Glass and knows how it couldn’t have been accident in any way.
They talk some more, have once again the whole argument who is more like who and who is really not anything like each other (meaning either of them) which they manage to regurgitate plenty more times during the story with the exact same way and result.
#Clary Fray#Jace Herondale#Sebastian Morgenstern#Alec Lightwood#Isabelle Lightwood#Simon Lewis#Camille Belcourt#CoLS Chapter 11#City of Lost Souls
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PINK SCARF AND LIFE UPDATES
Hello my babies! I wanted to jump on and give you some updates since I know I’ve not been posting/responding much since PS ended…
The long and the short of it is that I’ve been rather overwhelmed. Life is being A LOT. One of my sisters is very, very ill with late stage cancer and we are currently gearing up for her to (hopefully) get a stem cell transplant within the next month. This process is very involved and complex and scary and it’s one of those things that could just as easily kill her as make her better. This coupled with the family dynamics involved as we all try to navigate the situation has been emotionally exhausting.
In addition to that, I started temping back at my old job a couple weeks ago which is not what I wanted to do, but I gotta pay the bills, but it means my time is more limited and I’m way tired cuz my stamina is for shit lol.
And whilst all that’s been happening, I did some research and discovered that there is no way I can publish Pink Scarf as is. *sobbing* Turns out after Elvis died, Tennessee had to create a law specifically for him to protect his rights and image posthumously. This includes using not just his image, but his name and likeness as well. All this meaning I could get sued if I publish, and I DEFINITELY do not want to invoke the wrath of EPE.
Needless to say, this made me very upset cuz I know how much y’all want Pink Scarf on your bookshelves.
HOWEVER, before we all slide into the pits of despair, I think I have come up with a bit of a solution/compromise. I’m planning to rework PS into something just slightly different, changing some things that make it too specific to Elvis. I’ll likely have to change the title, too. But the plot and much of the writing will stay the same. But at least this way, I can still get it out to y’all in paperback form! (And lord knows I certainly can’t help who y’all picture in your heads while you read, soooooo…😉)
I know this is disappointing, y’all, and I’m so sorry I can’t make PS happen in published form as is. I am hoping that this new version is good enough for y’all to still want, and I’m gonna make it the best I can for ya. Honestly, I am thinking having something really close is better than having nothing at all. And of course, PS will still be online in its original form, so it’s not going away!
So, in the midst of all this insanity, I’ve started working on this newer version which is a project in its own right, but it’s taking time and my energy has been zapped with everything that’s going on. 💗🧣💗
For those who have asked about if there are any new Elvis fics in the works, the short answer is yes! I have a post-army fic that I am verrrrryyy slowly working on. The vibe is different from Pink Scarf (more of a slow burn), but I hope y’all will still enjoy it!
Anyway, thank you as always for your support and I’m sorry I haven’t delved into answering all your wonderful asks and comments. I very much appreciate them, I’m just a bit depleted at the moment. I’m still lurking around, just maybe not as active for the time being. But maybe I could jump on Discord or something next weekend if that would be fun for people!
Love ya always 💗🧣💗
Madisyn 💜
#pink scarf#pink scarf update#pink scarf the novel update#elvis#elvis presley#if you’re looking for trouble#you came to the right place#elvis 2022#elvis movie#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#austin butler elvis#austin butler#austin!elvis x reader#Elvis fic#elvis smut
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