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sundayswife · 1 month

Text

A gamble.

Aventurine x afab! Reader (No specific pronouns.)

Tags: Mdni!! Smut, Slight praise, unprotected sex(please use a darn condom), doggy style, fingering, squirting, soft sex?, character might be OOC, porn w/ plot, I guess?

A/n: Heyy, finally finished this fanfic. I hope I did okay at writing Aventurine's character, anyways enjoy!

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One scarlet night, you and Aventurine had chose to have a small game of cards. Nothing too special, if one loses, they would have to do anything the winner says. Very simple.

Even though, gambling and playing a cards with Aventurine was an risk. He was a good gambler after all, major luck on his side while he does so. Which makes your stomach twist and turn nervously.

One would think other wise if you'd say that your not nervous. Cmon, what's the chances of winning against someone as good as him? Though, there's always a way, but this is all about chance.

You huff as you looked at your cards, having a terrible hand. Again, you wondered if Aventurine was cheating. But he couldn't have been, you watched him shuffle the deck of cards a few good times already.

You tossed your cards down, only a sense of hope that he would somehow was a lower hand. But no, he hand a much higher hand and smirked. Before pushing the pile of chips towards himself, leaning his cheek and his hand as his elbow rests on the table. A cheeky smile plastered on his lips.

"Losing again are we now? I might say, your pretty bad at this." He teased, his violet irises meeting yours as his eyes narrow slightly. As if he was challenging you to continue, and finally lose the bet against him either way.

A frown spreads across yours lips as your slowly realized that you had no more chip to bet off. A sigh comes out quietly from you, before you close your eyes in defeat. "I have no more to bet on more of, the winner of this bet goes to you... Aventurine."

You grumbled slightly in annoyance, knowing anyways that you were going to lose one way or the other. You crossed your arms over your chest, opening your eyes once more as you meet gaze with his eyes.

That slyful smirk on his face was frustrating you, always so cocky with his smiles, you hated by how much it made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

"So... you chose defeat you say? Hm, I was hoping to have a.. longer game with you. But oh well, I'm fine with this either way." Aventurine shrugged, before flashing you with a wider grin. If that was even possible...

"Hm, anything I want... And you would do as I say?" He asked, his eyes wondering over your body. Obviously checking you out, having some ideas in mind. But not voicing them out justtt— yet.

You nodded your head in such defeat, you didn't wanted to bail down so fast. But at the same time, you didn't want to go into a dept that you very much didn't need at this very moment.

All aventurine did was kept that smirk on his face before opening his mouth. "Where's that pretty little voice now? Cmon... let me here you say yes, if not then we'll simply just continue the game without the little bet." Aventurine he said with a smug smile, though, his tone was as soft as a feather.

"Yes, that was the bet... the loser would have to do anything the winner says. And, I'm okay with that." You mumbled out, though still remaining eye contact with him either way.

Aventurine nods, hearing your verbal consent. That was all he needed before you asked you, for such favors... but he was silently happy that you trusted him.

"All right then, can you please come over here? Hm?" He questioned, with a tone filled with lust to the brim. But also with a touch of passion. He pats his thigh, singling for your to come and sit on his lap.

You felt heat raise to your cheeks, but you brushed it off and walked over towards him. Nervously. You gulp down the saliva that was building up in your mouth, before taking a seat in Aventurine's lap.

Shivers going up your spine as he wraps an arm around your waist. Holding you in place on his lap comfortably. "No need to be nervous sweetheart, I won't bite... I promise." He whispered into your ear, before placing his face into your neck. Taking a nice wiff of your scent, making himself melt just from the smell and weight from you.

"Hm, you smell delightful gem..." Aventurine mumbled out before wrapping his other arm around your waist. Enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

You then melt into his gentle touch, it calmed down your nerves as you hugged back. Enjoying his embrace as well, that was until you felt something poking your butt.

You knew what it was, it was obviously Aventurine's hardening cock. You let out a small chuckle before grinding your hips. Softly creating friction between your ass and his clothed dick

He groans out as his hands wandered down, gripping your hips firmly. As he tries to suppress desperate moans, already egar to feel you.

"Not feeling so shy are we now? Hmph... fuck, need you so badly." Aventurine mumbled out desperately, his hands helping your hips to grind back and forth. Both of you liking the small friction being created, but then, you liked how he wasn't just flat out controlling on what you want to do. Letting you have the freedom to pleasure yourself too.

You grip onto his shoulders for support as you hump against his hard on. All you could let out was soft whines and pants, from the nice feeling of grinding your clothed cunt against his clothed cock.

Aventurine let's out soft groans, and he's a type a guy to not hold back his sounds of pleasure. His lips press soft kisses against your neck, before sucking on the skin. Creating a hickie.

His left hand wanders up and cups your tit gently, foundling with it as his thumb brushes against your hardened nipple. Making you let out a sigh of pleasure, yes, it was like a slow burn. But it felt amazing by his hands.

"Hmm, can I take this shirt off of you? Please?" He asked, his right hand on the hem of your shirt as he waits for reply.

"Yes, Aventurine.." You replied with a small whine, which causes Aventurine to have a shiver go up his spine. They way you spoke his name in that honey tone, Aeons he needed you so badly.

Aventurine leans back a bit, before he takes the bottom of your shirt and pulls it up. Not too long before it's on the floor and he's kissing all over your neck. Mumbling how your doing so good for him, 'such a good gem.' He would say as he kisses down your collarbone.

His hands would wander around your body softly, but firm. He would then start nibbling at your neck, becoming a lil rough, but not too rough to make you uncomfortable.

Your hips would twitch as he slide his hands to your pants, waiting for you to say no or to stop him just in case. Only for you to whine for him to continue, which causes him to smirk.

Pulling your pants along with your underwear, you then kick the extra clothes off of your ankle. Letting out a small gasp as Aventurine's right hand came down further down. Cupping your cunny softly before his middle and ring finger found your bundle of nerves.

Aventurine started to rub small and slow circles on your clit, teasing you as your hips buckled up from the sweet but so, so far away pleasure. Just wanting more, he was treating you so nicely. And now he's teasing? And still clothed? Unfair.

He let out a chuckle before speaking out. "My, my... you are so wet my dear. All of this because of me?" He teased, before picking the pace, rubbing circles on your clit faster. Which causes you to wail out a moan.

You've always hated for when he teased, but you also loved it. Your thighs become shaky as you felt the knot in your stomach blooming more.

"How about you be a good little gem and cum for me, hm? You can do that right?" He would tease, while rubbing faster circles on your poor clit.

You felt like your were about to burst. That knot in your stomach becoming looser and looser, before it hit you.

"Ah—! Aventurine— I'm gonna...!"

You wailed out as you came on his fingers, gushing all over his trousers and your thighs. It felt so good that you were seeing stars.

"Holy fuck..." Aventurine whispered out as he continued to rub at your clit, but gently so you could ride out your oragsm.

"Looks like I got myself a squirter... heh," he teased as his fingers slowly came to a stop. A wide smirk across his lips as he looked down at your panting form.

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"Fuck... you feel so good." Aventurine groaned out, while he pushed himself slowly into your cunt.

You were no longer in his lap, and now was bent over the table. The cards you two were playing with were now all scrabled everywhere.

Neither of you cared though, only wanting the sweet pleasure of sex. Feeling him slip into your pussy perfectly, you squirting earlier helped out with him sinking his cock into you.

Both of you sigh out in pleasure as Aventurine finally bottoms out inside of you. His head resting against your shoulder as he waits for you to fully adjust to him.

He wasn't grithy, but he was long. Probably about 6 inches or 6 in a half inches long. At least.

"You can move now..."

You mumbled out softly, your hips twitching with need.

Aventurine nods before placing his hands firmly on your hips and lifting his upper body up from your back.

Pulling out a little before slamming his hips back, causing both of you to moan out in the pleasure forming between you two.

"Fuuck, you are so tight my gem stone..." He murmurs out along with a grunt, his cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls.

All you could do was moan and drool by how much pleasure he was giving you. Aventurine's cock was literally felt like it was perfect for you.

You wail out as you felt his tip brush gracefully against your g-spot, hitting it sooo sweetly it made your toes curl.

"R–right there! Fuck! Mmm,"

You moaned out as your back arches from the pure bliss you were feeling, tears swelling in your eyes from the way he hit your cervix so perfectly.

The room was filled with plaps as skin hit one against another, as well as the sounds of your cunt gushing around his cock. And finally both yours and his moans would fill up the room as well.

"So good f'me, ah– ugh fuck! You feel so good." Aventurine praised as his hips picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours.

His cock now rubbing against your sweet spot everytimes he re-enters into your body. At this point, you were fucked dumb. It's felt all too good that you couldn't think straight anymore.

His grunts were growing louder as his pace became more punishing, hips and pelvis slamming right up against your ass.

Everything was a wild blur, you couldn't think straight as Aventurine's cock rubbed against your soft walls. Over, and over again.

You were taking him so well, that his mind was driving up the wall. Thrusts becoming sloppy as he felt you clench around his grith.

"Cum for me,"

Aventurine grunted, wanting you to cum before he did. Wanting to satisfy you first before he came.

Your eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as you creamed around him. Cumming around him as he hisses at the squeeze.

Sloppy thrusts continue, desperately going faster as you whine out at the overstimulation.

"Ugh, gonna cum— fuck!"

He groaned out before you felt hot, gooey substance fill your insides up. Nice and full of it.

His hips still against yours as he pants out, making sure you take it all. All of his seed before he pulls out from your warn pussy.

"Did so good f'me, good gem..."

He whispered into your ear before your eyes closed, going into a blissful sleep after the turn of events...

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A/n: Hey!! I just wanted to say that this might be out of character for Aventurine but I tried. Hope you guys enjoyed!! Stay safe and reblogs are appreciated.

#hsr fanfic #x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #characters x reader #hsr aventurine #x you #aventurine x reader #fem reader #smut #hsr smut #fanfic #smut fanfiction #writing #aventurine x reader smut

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python333 · 8 months

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

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synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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lets-get-kraken-boys · 1 year

Note

For the yandere class 1a I would not last a bit. Like I would just start bawling my eyes out. How do you think the class would react?

(I love your writing please take care of yourself)

Oh no because SAME. I am the biggest crybaby. I feel you, boo.

However, considering the class, there's lots of ways they'd react!

Also, I wrote an imagine for Class 3-A's Big Three because I'm extra like that and HO MAH GOD, they really stole the show on this one. I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T FOLLOW YOUR ORIGINAL IDEA! But I still hope you all like it~

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Characters Featured → Izuku (Deku), Shoto, Bakugo, The Big Three {Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire}, and some of the members of Class 1-A

Length -> 3.1K Words

(Plz forgive me. I splurged and gave all my love to the three main boys. I left the other class members in the dust. I just have a lot of creativity coming out for them right now! If there is a specific character you'd like, please send me another request!)

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Deku is THE crybaby of the My Hero Academia universe, so I feel like you two would just cry a puddle together. In all honesty, while it hurts to see you filled with sorrow, he's thrilled that you feel close enough to them that you'd show enough vulnerability to cry! Even if your tears aren't about whether or not you trust the class or feel it is "safe" to cry, it doesn't matter to him. He'll cradle your head into the crook of his neck, rub your back, and hush your sobs with soft sighs. Deku loves having you close, he views it as a "bonding experience", so feel free to cry all you want! He's not leaving your side any time soon, so the two of you can cry together for as long as you'd like!

This is going to sound a little strange, but this vibe fits my image of SPECIFICALLY Yandere Izuku (or, at least, in my image of him)! You know Gyutaro from Demon Slayer? And you know how he acts when he is comforting Daki? That is kind of how I am envisioning him coddling you. Slightly teasing, but it comes mostly from a place of love and concern. The sadness in his voice (whether it is faked to amp up his teasing or not, in Gyutaro's case) adds to the image I have of Deku crying alongside you. Izuku is totally one of those people who is like, "Don't cry, because if you cry, then I'LL cry *proceeds to cry*."

"Aww, no, it's okay!" Izuku sits down next to you as you are crumpled on the ground, exhausted and upset. He loops his strong arms around your shoulders and holds on tight. He feels tears well up in his own eyes, but he can't seem to shake the giddy joy bubbling in his stomach from being close to his one and only. He sniffles, but a wide smile stretches up his cheeks, "It's alright, dear. Let it out. I'll sit with you as long as you need~!"

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Shoto has always been stoic because of the harsh environment he grew up in where any emotion shown is an exploitative weakness (thanks, Endeavor), so he's going to freeze up when he sees tears bubbling down your cheeks. Even as a Yandere, emotions are hard for him to wrap his head around. He can barely understand the soul-crushing feelings he has for you! So, even though you are his everything in this world, he will be rather reserved on the comforting aspect of things. Shoto is thankful in these moments that he has the rest of his class, specifically those who are more in-tune with emotional responses like Izuku, Uraraka, and Mina, to rely on.

Though, he will try to help in his own Shoto-way! Would another inconceivably expensive gift help dry your crocodile tears? Don't worry, it's his dad's card that's paying for it all! What would you like? A couple new games for your video game console so you can play together? The finest, richest, and sweetest chocolates in all of Japan? How about an all expense paid trip on the family yacht for the weekend with the whole class included? Anything you want is yours, all you have to do is name it! Though, these gifts do not come freely—he will tax you AT LEAST a two hour cuddle session in your room per each gift. IDK, seems pretty fair to me!

"Here," Shoto clears his throat, a pristine, mint green box with a perfectly constructed golden bow resting on the lid sits in his outstretched hand. You rub your eye with the heel of your palm, sniffling to clear your nose as your eyes bounce back-and-forth between Shoto's unnerving, stoic expression and the small box. On the outside, his face shows indifference, but on the inside, his poor heart is doing a dozen cartwheels after running a ten mile race. The look you're giving him (mind you, is simply a look of pure confusion) is just too cute! Don't you know what you do to him?!?!

"It's your favorite sweets. For you. Don't worry about the money, it isn't a concern." Shoto looks away, a soft dusting of blush coating his cheeks. You almost want to accept it just to get him out of your personal bubble, but you think back on the pile of all his previous expensive gifts that are stacked high in the corner of your dorm, and decide to try to deny it. Before you can utter a shaky rejection, he snatches your wrist and begins dragging you off in the direction of your dorm room, no doubt getting you ready for your practically daily cuddle session.

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Bakugo is a tricky one because it depends on the situation he catches you crying in. On one hand, he doesn't like to see you sad. There's some primal anger (it's different from his typical Bakugo-rage) that gets spun up to 100% in him whenever he sees you racked with sobs and curling in on yourself. The statements sprinting laps in his mind revolve solely around "tell me who hurt you so I know who to murder". Don't think he'll go soft on you because you're the extra who has his heart doing flips. Even if you are hesitant to reveal who mistreated you in fear of their, or your own, safety, Bakugo won't let up. He will poke, prod, threaten, and glare the answer right out of you. Once he has a name, you'd better get out of this rabid dog's way, because he will mow down any obstacle in his path on his way to the enemy. If you enjoyed the company of the person who made your sensitive self sad, you're going to have to find a lovely bouquet for their funeral.

HOWEVER! If HE was the one who made you cry...he is going to tease you about it. FRIENDS, LET ME EXPLAIN let me cook! Since becoming infatuated with you, he has learned to lighten up the bullying nature of his words. He isn't perfect, but he has certainly gotten better with his communication, BUT ONLY FOR YOU r.i.p to Deku's sanity bc he tried for YEARS to get this Pomeranian to change with no success, and you stroll along and make Bakugo clean up his act in SECONDS. That being said, he is, and will probs forever be, a sadist at heart—and he flourishes off of that devilish, delicious satisfaction over being the one responsible for making you have so much of an emotional response to his words that you actually CRY.

You'd be standing there, face tilted towards the ground. You’re attempting to shield the tears leaking down your pudgy cheeks from his judgmental view, but he’d know. It’s like a sixth sense he has—being able to just know when someone is showing their weaknesses to him. Being a brat is in his nature, and he’s the type of person who if you give him an inch, he’ll take the mile. Bakugo would feel an unconscious teasing sneer creep up onto his face at this pleasant view in front of him.

"Haaa???," he'd shove his hands into his pants pockets, lean down to catch your eye sight with his, forcing you to witness the glee he feels at your expense, "You're crying? Already? Ha! What a weakling. It's a wonder you made it this far without us to carry you through your mistakes. You should just give up on the whole independence thing, stop making a fool of yourself." He then confidently struts over to your side, nudging you forward with a gentle shove of his shoulder against yours as a warning to start walking back to the classroom. Katsuki watches with a side eye as even bigger tears gloop down your face, but only now he says nothing. He wishes you could understand where his mean words were coming from.

Trust me, Bakugo does say all of these things with twisted love in hopes that you'll stop being so determined to get away from him them. Bakugo's abrasive and brash, but he's no idiot. He sees how badly you want to get away from them, but he just can't find it inside himself to do the heroic thing and let you go. If this is how you react to the teasing of someone who loves you, then how can you survive in the real world against not-so-caring strangers?! The conclusion he comes to is that you can't. Don’t worry—he doesn’t mind becoming the one to take care of you, even if he is forced to be the big, bad wolf in your eyes.

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YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS, BUT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT THE OTHER BIG THREE TOO BECAUSE I LOVE THEM AND I HAVE A SPARK OF CREATIVITY FOR THIS SCENARIO. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS AS MY SUBMISSION FOR CLASS 1-A AND PARDON MY LAZINESS FOR NOT WRITING THE REST OF THE STUDENTS IN THIS IMAGINE!

Our beloved Class 3-A Big Three also happen to have their eyes on you! Trust me when I say if you thought your classmates were overbearing, you're going to face a whole different overprotective beast with these three.

Mirio and Nejire basically share the same brain cell when they are together, so they just pass it on to whoever needs it most in the moment. However, when it comes to a mopey you, it is all hands on deck. They split the brain cell so they can effectively help you! They are all questions all the time, so you will be bombarded with them yelling all of these sentences in a matter of a few seconds:

"Oh no! Oh, my baby! What's wrong, sweetheart gumdrop darling???" - Nejire

"Who do I have to teach a lesson to? Don't give me that, sunshine! You're too nice for your own good! It is our job as heroes to enforce good citizenship, after all." - Mirio

"What can I get you? A warm tea? A blanket? You want a hug? I can do that easy! Hehe!" - Nejire

"Wait, I wanted to hug them first!" - Mirio

"Give it a rest, Mirio! They need comfort right now, not a fight!" - Nejire

Yeah, they're just two kids bickering over their favorite toy. They genuinely want to help you! Honest! It's just hard to not fight over you when you are simply the cutest thing they've ever seen. Nejire is also going to squeal from the cuteness you're exuding. She thinks your puffy, sad eyes and cheeks warm from an embarrassed flush is the most adorable look on you, so she isn't going to be that upset with you being down.

Tamaki is similar to Todoroki in the sense that he has no idea how to comfort emotional people, but instead of finding the courage to say or do something to help you, he is going to be HIGHLY on edge. He'll inch close when you first run up to the three of them in the hall to see what is wrong, as he is concerned why you are crying so much, but if you spare him even ONE glance, he will scamper away and face the wall in apprehension. Idiot! How could he look at you so brazenly?! Is he shameless?!?! He is such a terrible lover friend. Oh, you must hate him now for seeing you in such a vulnerable state. No! He doesn't want that! He...he l-l-loves you! He doesn't want you to go away! Oh no, what if yOU NEVER SPEAK TO HIM AGAIN OH GOD—he basically flies off the handle with worry. He's staring at the wall, shaking, afraid to do anything that may upset his flower any further.

Mirio actually has to be the one to come over and check on the poor shaking leaf of a boy for Tamaki to find the courage to say anything to you. Granted, Tamaki doesn't actually tell you the words he wishes to share with you himself.

Nejire is in the process of chatting your ears off to kingdom come and swinging you around in a tight hug when Mirio jogs back from his brief chat with the statue-esque Amajiki. Mirio shines a gorgeous smile at you as he relays Tamaki's message, "Hi, again, love! Tamaki wants to tell you that he is upset that you are crying, and to please use his handkerchief to clean your face! He insists." Mirio pries off Nejire's vice grip from you, and gently places the neat handkerchief in your palm. It is simple, white cotton with an intricate lace design stitched on the edges. You do notice that there is a dainty lilac flower embroidered with thin string on each of the four corners of the cloth.

You quietly thank Mirio, and send another thank you over Mirio's shoulder to the still shaking Tamaki. Tamaki does acknowledge your thanks with a violently tremoring thumbs up. You wipe the long tear streaks off your face, blow your nose, and take a couple of deep breaths to calm your fragile heart.

"So, what's going on, lovebug? Why all the tears?" Nejire has finally chilled out enough to ask serious questions instead of just fawning over your cuteness.

"It...it's—I don't—ugh...I-I'm s-sorry...," you're hiccupping for air, tripping all over your sentence as you feel the hot tears of embarrassment come back. You grit your teeth as another shuddering sob comes out. You can't believe you're crumbling like this in front of your superiors. Your upper classmates. You should know better than this! You're not a baby anymore! They are practically your teachers! How stupid you must look wailing and moaning like a newborn. You turn to run away, but two pairs of callused, powerful hands grab your shoulders and arms.

"No, baby, it's okay! You don't have to be sorry. Please tell us what's going on." Nejire pulls you close to her again, cupping your head into her shoulder and rubbing your back as encouragement.

"You're okay, (Y/N), no one is going to hurt you. Not while we're here. What's up?" Mirio stood beside you as a comforting hulk of a man that made you feel warm and safe. The fluttery feeling of seeing you with glassy eyes and running to him for safety like he was your hero and true love began wearing off, and the new feeling of wanting to bring immense harm to whoever had the nerve to mess with his sunshine took over. This situation wasn't just you tripping over your own two feet in the hallway in front of your teachers or something simple like that. This must be serious. He needs you to tell him what happened now before he does something irresponsible and with little thought behind his actions.

Even Tamaki perked up to hear what you were going to say. Again, he truly does want to help! He's trying to be brave for you. He didn't peel entirely away from the wall, but he did tilt his head to the side to better hear your tale.

Inhaling a few more deep breaths, you opened up, "It's...my class. They just—they won't leave me alone! Mina and Hagakure always want to play games with me, hug me, poke me, ANYTHING! They never give me space! Momo and Iida won't stop asking me if I want a private study session even though my grades are beyond fine. They even tried to force their way into my room last night to "check up" on me after I didn't want to have dinner with all of them!"

You continued after gently blowing your nose again into Tamaki's handkerchief, "I feel like I'm being watched all the time, even when I'm not around any of them! Last night, I woke up at like 3 AM and I SWEAR I saw Tokoyami's Dark Shadow in the corner of my room just...watching me. I tried asking him about it today, but he kept brushing me off. But he didn't deny any of what I said! I'm...scared. Not to mention Sero, Denki, and Kirishima won't stop messing with me! They keep tugging on my vest, breaking off buttons on my shirt, pulling at my bottoms, touching my hair—I keep asking them to back off, but they just won't stop." You hiccupped through your tears again, but it looked like you had more to say, so the three of them stayed quiet.

You started again, now with a much quieter voice, "But the worst is those three. Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugo. I'm always bothered by at least one of them all the time. Izuku hangs all over me and it's like he doesn't listen to a thing I say! I ask him to leave me alone, he says I don't know what I want and continues to push me. Todoroki won't stop giving me things I don't need or want that I can't repay back. Shoto says I only need to pay him back in "quality time"—which is basically him holding me prisoner in my own bed every other night. And Bakugo...I swear, I don't know if he sees me as an enemy or a doll to be tossed around. He's always talking down to me, insulting my fighting style or pointing out if I'm distracted. He goes out of his way to make fun of my appearance or if I say the wrong thing. He's...actually the reason I came looking for you three. I just don't know what to do anymore."

It was safe to say the three of them were livid to hear about all the torture you were being unwillingly dragged through. Mirio and Tamaki most of all. Mirio was infuriated to hear how Izuku had been treating you. Him, who Mirio had full trust in and respect—both of those qualities had tanked in a matter of a few minutes of hearing your recollection. Tamaki couldn't believe how Kirishima was behaving when he'd sworn to be the "manliest man to ever step foot in the Hero Alliance". Nejire was more upset to hear how her girls were having so much fun playing with little cute you without inviting her, but she was beyond fuming when she discovered how the disgusting boys were getting close to you. She felt like her words could melt metal with how fiery they felt building up in her throat.

"Hmm, how awful," Mirio had a terrifyingly dark look in his eye, one that made a shiver scamper up your spine. You'd never seen him so upset. All your tears dried as you heard him utter to his two friends that were now standing at his sides, "I think it's time we paid another educational visit to our promising young heroes, hmm~?"

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

You know, I do this every time. I start writing, I don't stop writing, and when I'm done, it's hardly an imagine anymore. This is practically a whole bloody fic at this point! And I get so mad at myself for doing it too because this took me all day to write LMAOOOO. BUT! I hope you all like it! I adore The Big Three, so I hope to write for them again. They are cool hehe :3

With Love,

Kraken 🐙

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ascendanttarot · 9 months

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PAC: What type of main character are you?

Hi everyone! So, as we know, we are the main character of our own lives. This PAC is meant to get into the more specific details of what type of character you are. We'll be covering:

Your archetype

Your story

Two channelled songs

As well as some signs before the reading to ensure the message is for you. If you resonate with one or more signs, that is meant to be your reading. :)

Please remember your fate is not set in stone so your answers may change depending on the actions you take and will take if you please. Tarot is not a substitute for professional advice. The images I’ve used are not mine.

From left to right, Pile 1, 2 & 3.

Pile 1

Signs that this is for you: You may have an earth sign in your big three, specifically Taurus. If not, I'm sensing someone who wears a lot of Earth tones in their wardrobe and feels connected with nature. You may have a 4th house stellium. Your throat chakra may be blocked, meaning you have difficulty speaking up and standing up for yourself. If this is the case, then this is a wound you're meant to heal in this lifetime. You may listen to music to cope with your emotions because you have difficulty trying to make sense of all of it by yourself. Um, this is an odd message, but I just smelled ramen? Specifically, the smell of instant ramen? Someone here may be eating that right now, or maybe that's your go-to meal. You're also considered your group's ‘mom/dad/parental friend’.

Your cards: 3 of swords, The Lovers rx, 6 of Cups rx, Death, The Empress

Your archetype: The Caregiver

Your story: From a very young age, you’ve learned that the relationships you build with others aren’t meant to last. Your friends or family members from this time may not have tended to your emotional needs. Some of them may have even been narcissists, but the key message here is that they required you to give all of yourself, all the contents in your cup, as an incentive to make them stay in your life. You grow up thinking all relationships were meant to be like this. I just heard the word ‘transactional’ so maybe some of you who are well in your adulthood view your relationships to be more like a business transaction than a genuine relationship. You’ve set low standards because you feel that’s all your worth. Communicating boundaries may be difficult for you because you don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, because you feel you'd rather have this than nothing at all.

There’s a shift though. I just felt a surge of… quiet anger. It’s not the explosive, shouting-at-your-face type of anger, but it’s like a switch has just been flipped and you begin to realise you deserve more than you’re getting. You distance yourself from the people around you or you will soon. For some, I could even see this be a physical move. The point is that you become a bit of a hermit for a while. You take the time to finally get to know yourself on your own and give yourself the comfort you’ve been wanting so desperately from others, filling your own cup. If this is yet to happen to you, I got a strong message to look back to your childhood self for guidance—what would they have wanted for their older self? What jobs and projects did they see themselves achieving? What shows and music gave them comfort when they were lounging, or crying by themselves to self-sooth? Doing inner child work will help present you more than you think.

The future is bright with the Empress card at the end. You learn to love yourself and know your worth not because someone told you so, but because you took the time to define that yourself. You haven’t stopped caring for others, you’ve just learned to care for yourself first.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 1!

Your song: Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart by Ariana Grande and Clean by Taylor Swift (for some reason I’m sensing there may be some Taylor Swift fans in this pile)

Pile 2

Signs that this is for you: I did not get any strong hints on what sign you guys might be, but if I had to name one, I’d say Aquarius. The first thing I did see was height, so either you guys are really short or really tall. You also may be very physically attractive, like I got ‘pretty’ vibes from your pile. I also got ‘boyfriend’ vibes, but I mean that in a gender-neutral way. I feel more at ease using slang with your pile, so maybe most of you here are of a younger age group. Either way, I’m sensing the majority of you are in school, or some sort of higher education, and that your teachers/classmates may tease you about your handwriting because I just heard ‘chicken scratch’ lol. Some of you may say you’re nerds, and that your favourite subjects are STEM subjects. You may be a singer and have been told to have an angelic voice. Extra messages: You like and relate to Peter Parker, you proofread your essays so much you memorise them by accident, and you like baked goods because I just smelled a bakery for some reason?

Your cards: Queen of Swords, Page of Swords, Seven of Swords, Knight of Cups (extra clarifying card: Three of Cups), The Hierophant

Your archetype: The Hero turned Teacher

Your story: Your story starts when you’re in your teens which may be the age you are now. Your ambition is your drive, but it’s not for selfish reasons; you’ve got big dreams because you want to change the world in some way and give back to your community by possibly offering some sort of service. I think many people look up to you and how brilliant you are. It’s odd because I can almost see you from their point of view, and the admiration is so great for you and your potential it can come across as overwhelming. I say you’re a ‘hero’ with the good and bad in mind because while you deserve the recognition, I think you may feel a bit suffocated by it.

The borderline hero worship makes you feel uncomfortable because you may feel like you don’t deserve it, regardless of what people think. In your head, you recognise how much you don’t know, and you berate yourself for it, always criticising yourself saying ‘You can do better’. If you achieve something, you never have the time to celebrate it and look back on how far you’ve come because you’re always after the next goal. I just heard ‘It’s not enough’ and then ‘I’m not enough’ straight after. I feel on edge with your energy, like you’re rushing to prove yourself without realising you’ve already done so a million times over.

The turning point of your story can either be a dramatic or a quiet one, but for most of you I’m sensing you burn out without even realising it. Because of that you feel frustrated with yourself that you’re ‘slipping’ so you work yourself to the bone, which makes you ‘slip’ even more. I think the next phase of your life is going to require vulnerability coming from you where you admit you need help from the people you love, and this is going to feel so uncomfortable because I can tell you’re not used to asking for help at all. Your loved ones may confide in you too, telling you they were scared you were rushing towards success so much you were leaving them behind. Difficult conversations were or will be made, but that benefits you so much.

You reconnect with yourself and your loved ones, learning empathy and love along the way. This helps you refine your goals, and you’ll start asking yourself what you want. Your mind becomes sharper because of the boundaries you’ve put on yourself and for yourself. This makes people respect you more, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore because you start respecting yourself. You grow from being a hero to a Sage/Teacher with a well-earned sense of wisdom your younger self didn’t even realise was a blind spot.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 2!

Your song: Show Me the Right by NEIL FRANCES and Radio Ga Ga by Queen

Pile 3

Signs that this is for you: The strongest energy I got from your pile was that you are a very spiritual person. Clairaudient abilities are strong with this pile, as well as claircognizance. You may identify as a witch or a practitioner and may even have a familiar. I’m also sensing you might literally be a cat person and that’s why you may have clicked on this reading, haha! Physically, I see very high contrast features. If you know what colour seasons are, you may be a True Winter, Dark Winter, or Dark Autumn. Your gaze is incredibly striking, almost intimidating. For astrology placements, I’m sensing a heavy emphasis on the water signs Pisces and Scorpio, or at least a heavy influence of the planets Pluto, Mars, and/or Neptune in your chart. You may also work with the fae and/or Hecate. This is a peculiar message to give, but your energy feels like when lightning strikes a large body of water, and despite having heavy water placements you might work with breath magick.

Your cards: 5 of Pentacles, The World rx, Page of Cups, Queen of Wands, Six of Wands

Your archetype: The Outlaw

Your story: Before I start, I want to say you’re similar to Pile 1 but not really. It feels like you and Pile 1 had similar upbringings, but your journey is different like you’re two sides of the same coin. Are you friends with someone like Pile 1? If not, I think you will in the future.

So, onto the reading. Your story starts with you feeling like the world is going against you, like they’ve shunned you out before you had any say in it. Your energy feels like smoke, and people mistook you for someone illusive when you were just more open to being yourself. You have a high intrapersonal intelligence so you accept that you are multi-faceted, but for some reason other people can’t. It feels like a ‘you against the world’ energy. I think people did this because they were scared by the fact they couldn’t control you, and that you can read everyone so well but for some reason, no one can read you.

That in turn made you more rebellious, more willing to push the boundaries and be different which I think made the people in your life angrier. At the start, you may have done it out of spite, but as you grow into yourself you realise, you’re doing this because you want to live your life honestly, and that it’s for your happiness at the end of the day. Eventually, anger evolves into sadness. You long or will long for someone to finally see you for who are in all the depths you see in others. You don’t advertise this feeling. Many people won’t notice the change in demeanour because they’ve got it in their head that you’re like this rogue nomad, but this won’t last forever.

Like magic, you meet someone or a group of people that just get you, and they come into your life at exactly the right time. Your spirit guides are being quiet about what that means, but for some of you it could be when you feel like you’re hanging by a thread, and that’s when these people finally come into your life. I think people will question this relationship/friendship because you two seem like polar opposites, with the other person/people being gentler and you being more headstrong, but what they don’t see is that this other person/group feels like they aren’t seen properly either. That’s why you two click.

You become a power duo/group. I could see that some of you may even work together on a business or a humanitarian cause. Your self-confidence grows bit by bit, and you regain the power you have over yourself you felt was too big for you to handle before. You could stand alone, but you realise you don’t want to anymore. You’ve never felt more at home.

Thank you for letting me be your reader, Pile 3!

Your song: Villain Of My Own Story by Unlike Pluto and The Greatest by Louis Tomlinson

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #divination #spirituality #witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #main character #main character vibes

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blackopals-world · 11 days

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Writer!Yuu: This week's guide to avoiding tropes is on "How to keep a yandere at bay." Yes, those pesky yanderes are always a threat to poor unsuspecting, and naive main characters. Despite what you may think they are actually very easy to control as long as you are not an idiot.

Artist!Yuu: Why did you specifically ask me to be here?

Writer!Yuu: Because I know both you and Jade and I haven't actually figured out if you are the yandere or not.

Artist!Yuu: (frantic) W-why w-would you think that?!

Writer!Yuu: I know you have a shrine in your closet....ANYWAYS back on topic. The first mistake any Mc makes is being incredibly dense. So dense you'd think they were mentally unwell. Even the most secretive yandere has giveaways. Ever notice they never talk about themselves, have hobbies, talk about their families, have friends they spend time with, or have normal conversations? You might be dealing with a yandere.

Otaku!Yuu: Or a friendless shy person with a bad family life?

Writer!Yuu: Oh, please. Even Idia has hobbies, a friend, and a good family life. My next point, don't agitate a yandere. This is how most MCs end up dead. If you know they have feelings for you do not outwardly reject them. I believe in consent and being straightforward but unbalanced people can't be argued with. You can test how in deep they are by being indirect like saying "I'm sorry I don't think I'm good enough for out." or "I do not know if I can fall in love." You need to make sure your reluctance is not based on personal distaste or due to interference from outside forces. This minimizes damage to yourself and others. DO NOT BRING UP OTHER PEOPLE BEING OBSTACLES TO A YANDERE. A yandere's main trait is their willingness to kill other people for the one they are obsessed with.

Noble!Yuu: What if I want them to kill someone?

Writer!Yuu: I like the way you think. Turning a deranged killer into a tool rather than an obstacle. This brings me to my last point. Yanderes are very weak-willed. At the end of the day as their love interest, you hold all the cards. Your love is everything to them. Holding it over them is an important tool. You must have a strong backbone and be assertive. Snapping at them when they get out of line is a must. Play mind games with them. Don't let them think they have lost your love but keep them thinking of ways to get more of it back. They must never believe they have no chance. This keeps them from doing anything extreme.

Artist!Yuu: Wh-what if I don't want a yandere at all?

Wrtier!Yuu: I never said this was a class on preventing yanderes or getting rid of them. Neither of those things are possible. I mean you can avoid interacting with crying children or stopping bullies from ganging up on the weak kid. At least then they wouldn't become obsessed with you since you showed them kindness but that doesn't mean it'll work.

Noble!Yuu: Can I turn someone into a yandere who is willing to do everything I say and worship me?

Artist!Yuu: ...I'm scared

Writer!Yuu: Alright, let's wrap up for the day.

#writer!yuu #artist!yuu #otaku!yuu #noble!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #jade leech #twst jade

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saytrrose · 5 months

Note

Can we see More about your racing AU please?

Looks so amazing and i love It so much

I do suppose I could share the character design line up!

I really just need to finish designing all the go karts, (atleast most are done!) and then I can make proper cards for them and really get into the written details.

To be honest it’s a little hard to just ramble about info and details without specific questions to go off of, so I’ll try my best hhh

for starters, the tent? Not a tent!

It’s actually a stadium, the amazing digital race!

And rooms? Sort of tweaked, they are more like each character owns a personal garage, a large open space where they store their vehicles and then have a loft above that showcases their cozy safe havens. Bed, entertainment, basically a small room in a much larger one.

I haven’t revealed Ragatha, Zooble or Gangles karts yet but I’ll go ahead and just talk about all of them!

Caine:

Caine has a motorcycle, specifically one inspired off of the motorcycle I’m saving up for this summer, a Kawasaki Eliminator. It’s a cruiser, I’m thinking he has a 600cc model but considering Bubble is his right hand man and operates as the races pit crew- he’s definitely tinkered with Caines bike, making adjustments and improving the engine. God only knows what the little psycho did, but it’s a damn good bike that’s not supposed to rev as loud as it does.

Pomni:

Her kart is inspired off a Volkswagen Beetle, seemed very VERY Pomni to me. Her car mimics her outfit design a lot, I might do some color changes to be honest but it will be super minimal, it’ll be final when the cards are done! She definitely stops at the pit the most often despite her placement in a race, are my tires okay?? Do I need my oil?? I know you just filled it but it went down- is anything damaged?? Sweetie you did one lap..

Jax:

Jesus Christ he has a giant supercharger on the hood of his car, and he is absolutely one of those annoying mfs that reva their engine OBNOXIOUSLY loud all the time like he’s super cool. If you’re wondering who most of the skid marks on the track are from, that’s also Jax. Hes the best as drifting, and he loves to show that off. His car isn’t based too much on an actual vehicle?? I stared at Mario karts and pieced it together, but also gave it a very sports car look, the wing on the back fr fr I think Jax would dig that.

Kinger:

OHHSOSK I was so creative with his little wagon,,, it’s castle shaped!! And the best part? Operates like a rocket. In the back past the battlement (the crown looking thing you see atop castle pillars) ARE GIANT exhaust pipes and yes, they do spit fire !! Operates like a rocket. It’s very cool! (Also he has a great muffler because unlike Jax he’s considerate of others hearing 💔) Oh also, he has one of those silly horns, I forgot how to describe it but you can just look at how I drew it on his kart and you’ll know heheh!

Zooble:

Our second motorcyclist, owns a trike! If you don’t know what that is, picture a bike with training wheels but super badass. 3 wheels! It’s inspired off the Harley Davidson freewheeler, I like that design a lot but it’s def not actually a Harley because istg when you buy those bikes your just paying for the fancy name brand- expect it to be in the shop all the time, smh not good- BUT ANYWAY!! The looks are inspired off it though and I can’t wait for this one because it’s just as crazy kooky as Zoobles design is.

Gangle:

Her kart is based on my favorite car, classic style but not too cool because you can bet she has anime stickers on the back and a decal that says “please let me merge before I start crying.” It’s similar to a karmann ghia convertible, 1963. Cherry red (so so pretty) She always has the top down, unless competing because damn you gotta go fast. That car itself is really slow, top speed normally is 68mph, however people have modified them enough to get up to 120mph. Thats still pretty slow compared to others, but her kart only reflects the appearance of the ghia! It’s much faster and I assume Bubble works on all their vehicles if asked to.

Lastly, Ragatha:

Our 3rd motorcyclist. 4 Karts, 3 cyclists. Her bike is a futuristic style, if you want a good idea then look up “icare bike”! Not so much a straight forward posture, she leans over ofc, you’ll likely get the idea when you see her bike. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten too into her design yet because I haven’t started drawing but!! Dark blue leds,, everywhere yes yes so cool ❤️

Sorry that’s so much 😭 but yeah! Just need to finish 3 kart designs for you guys and I can make official ref cards 👀

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #Caine #tadc Caine #Pomni #tadc Pomni #Jax #tadc Jax #kinger #tadc Kinger #Zooble #tadc Zooble #gangle #tadc gangle #Ragatha #tadc Ragatha #tadc racing au

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cormorant-red · 3 months

Text

I played 999 recently at @xivu-arath's recommendation, and I had so much fun that (inspired by that one polygon video) I illustrated my liveblog about it!

If you haven't played 999 and you are even a little bit intrigued by a puzzle/mystery visual novel with multiple timelines that all guide you towards wild plot twists...probably don't read the text! 999 is the kind of story that is best experienced with no knowledge besides the basic premise.

Transcript below the cut:

Cormorant: characters in this game really just say shit like "have you heard the story about the crystallization of glycerin?"

as a matter of fact i haven't, june, please enlighten me

Storm: "I know we're stuck in a freezer but. let's talk about weird mythical science!"

Cormorant: it's also killing me that junpei is dressed like marty mcfly and isn't sharing any of his jackets

-----

Cormorant: this game is leading me to arrive at mathematical concepts on my own. what the heck

Storm: kshgushhsg

I take it you're having a good time then

Cormorant: trying to check lotus's work and it turns out that no matter what group i arrange to take through a door, the people left behind will always have the same digital root

so to get through door 7 with snake missing, i could either send a group with sum 16 (junpei, ace, clover, and june) or with sum 25 (clover, june, seven, and lotus), but it doesn't matter because the remainder always have root 9 and can't get through doors 3 or 8! wild!

Storm: yeah the numbers and which doors end up barred to you is so cleverly deliberate

-----

Cormorant: i'm glad i finally checked what novel mode meant, because this is way more fun

Santa cocked his head to one side, like an inquisitive bird, and looked at them.

After several long moments, during which it became apparent that Santa had no idea what the cards meant, June took pity on him.

i'll have to go back and redo the beginning after i get to the first ending

Storm: oh yeah! as I recall that was done differently when it was originally a dual screen game... but it's much better when in novel style. gimme all the descriptions

-----

Cormorant: I had a long day of sitting though presentations and so I entertained myself by calculating digital roots

I discovered that adding 9 or any multiple of 9 to a number has no effect on the digital root, which is awfully interesting bc I got to the part where snake gets killed. Assuming door 3 was opened with 12 and not 21, the options are 7+3 (motive?), 6+4 (they’d both have to be REALLY good actors), or 9+1. And if bracelets work without a body attached, and if ace picked it up in door 5…

That would be a really useful tool to get around the 3-person minimum without altering the digital root

I’m also very intrigued by the theory that zero is also in the game but I don’t know what to do with that yet

Storm: forlornly having to keep myself from saying literally anything

Cormorant: Understandable, please don’t give me any hints! I’m just calling shots for the joy of being wrong

-----

Cormorant: and how do you know that, my traitorous friend?

Santa: “The RED doesn’t need a person, you know.”

Santa: “All I need is the bracelet.”

-----

Cormorant: y’know what i think he’s bluffing. he does need June specifically and that’s why he refused to consider leaving her when they first found door 9. if all he needed was a hostage, he could have grabbed junpei and forced ace to come along, and then he would be dealing with two people under duress instead of three

i peeked at a guide and apparently i found the ending adjacent to the true ending(?) first, oh well. time to see the others!

santa: i said i don't want to leave seven alone

me: bud you can't do a heroic sacrifice too, it'll mess up all the math

reader, he was not doing a heroic sacrifice

-----

Storm: got any character opinions or theories to share so far?

Cormorant: hmm I’ve got soft spots for santa and lotus maybe just because they were in the first group I went with. I like that the game makes a point of showing that lotus is quick with the math/technical knowledge. I warmed up to clover and seven more than I expected to! I have no evidence to mistrust ace….but I don’t trust him

Snake died before I before I could say two words to him

Or…didn’t. Forgot clover said he didn’t

I got info about the previous experiments from clover and I wonder if we’re like…reenacting the past somehow? Experiencing morphogenetic resonance with the last voyage?

Again no evidence i just wonder where the pseudoscience is going

Storm: santa was so my type as soon as I started playing that I just picked all rooms with him on my first run skugrhsghu

Cormorant: AHAHA that makes me feel better about going “yeahhh door 4 I like the cut of this guy’s jib”

-----

Cormorant: “the bracelet comes off when your heart rate reaches zero” interesting then that we’ve brought up cryostasis

-----

Cormorant: i simply don't trust him not to have a spare bracelet in his pocket!!!

They climbed into the elevator and Junpei listened to it creak and rattle its way to the bottom deck. Only Junpei, Ace, and Lotus were left.

As the elevator rumbled out of sight, Ace spoke.

Ace: “Lotus, would you be so kind as to go with me?”

Cormorant: “bad end” YEAH I’LL SAY

Storm: lkksghr yeah there's a few of those!

Cormorant: santa was really quick to declare that he, june, and seven needed to go with clover. waht's his game

june and ace could have done it just as easily

Storm: they could have! good catch

maybe he just thinks seven is cooler than ace,

Cormorant: i'm imagining clover taking all her grisly trophies to the door only to find it already engaged, because lotus needed no persuading,

and regarding the true ending requirements, it's also funny that santa's like "i hate this bookmark! get it out of my sight!" and this is a huge help in junpei befriending the girl who's otherwise about to snap

Storm: load bearing bookmark

Cormorant: good thing you threw that tantrum bud or you would have been killed with an axe

-----

Cormorant: in my suspicions i forgot a critical detail, which is that he didn't actually go into the door with the body this time

of course seven has been propping doors open, so it really could have been anybody

-----

Cormorant: "where have these 16 boys and girls disappeared to?" eight for each game and then an experimenter? again with the idea that zero might be in the game...

-----

Cormorant: bad endings complete! on to the normal ending, which hopefully has less of junpei getting stabbed to death

puzzling over who could have done all those murders, especially in the sub ending...or did everyone get killed? clover thinks that snake's death was faked. or did snake do all the murders, since he was the only one unaccounted for?...and then i remember what kind of game i'm playing. can't discount the ice mummy as a suspect.

Storm: you truly cannot ignore the possibility of the ice mummy

-----

Cormorant: ah no, so santa's sister was the kid that died...

i can't figure out the connection between events! why did the last games have the veneer of a science experiment, while this one has no context given? why was it all kids last time, and a random mix of ages this time, with some repeat subjects?

-----

Cormorant: called it!!!!

Junpei: “Ace, Guy X, and the 9th Man’s bracelet.”

Junpei: “That was all you needed to open door [3].”

Cormorant: called it before i even got to an ending ehehe

what i’ve been saying!!

Ace: “(9) is a potent ally in the Nonary Game.”

Ace: “Adding (9) to any set of numbers won’t alter the digital root.”

Ace: “As you can see, (9) is a very useful number here.”

Ace: “With it, one can go anywhere, with anyone.”

Ace: “It is, I suppose you could say, a game changer.”

-----

Cormorant: okay, normal ending finished! junpei did not get stabbed but we also didn’t resolve much…I’m now thinking that ace with his pocket drugs could have easily played dead in the sub ending

glad to see that snake is okay and hopefully can stay okay in the true ending. where did clover get that riddle, and will she still have it?

0=6. how much do I read into this

still don’t understand how we get from here to santa hostage situation. he’s been so consistent about not even considering betraying or abandoning people, so either he’s a better actor than ace…or it’s staged. are he and june in cahoots

Storm: augh so close now!! soon I can actually say things

-----

Cormorant: O FUCK

Seven: “Santa’s always in the room with her. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

Snake: “Yes, that’s right.”

Clover: “What about it…?”

Snake: “That’s quite simple, really.”

Snake: “You told me that the first time you came to this room…”

Snake: “…Santa was the first to refuse to leave June behind.”

Snake: “Now, doesn’t that beg the question “why?” Why would Santa do such a thing?”

Snake: “The answer is easy.”

Storm: B)

Cormorant: i've been thinking of them as a pair because it makes the math easier! if you've got 3 + 6 + 8, just cross out the ones that make 9 and don't even bother with the addition, your root is 8

Storm: B) B) B)

Cormorant: but god!! they are a pair, do not separate (or the jig is up)

Storm: they hid it soooo well

-----

Cormorant: was wondering when we would see the last cradle guy and oh duh, he was guy X

i did think it was odd that santa phrased it as "i need to leave two of you behind" rather than "i need three of you to come with me," but if he was responsible for everything (most things?), he knew that snake was there, and he was setting up a group that could follow him. excited to see where this is going!

[dreamy sigh] this game is so elegant. what a little puzzle box

Storm: yeah it is, it's just so wonderfully crafted. so little is wasted!

-----

Cormorant: oh boy [akane vision label]

"through the morphic fieldset we were resonant, and we were as one" i don't think i've mentioned it before but i'm constantly pleasantly surprised by the narration in this game. it's not flashy but it's evocative in a way that's really working for me

Storm: this is where the port falls short a bit of the original version... the ds really worked well with this aspect

-----

Cormorant: the number of times i thought "this will be totally wrong but i'll say it to storm anyway"

hello??? [arrow pointing back to the message “I wonder if we’re like…reenacting the past somehow? Experiencing morphogenetic resonance with the last voyage?”]

Storm: Y E A H

Cormorant: laser-guided spitballing

-----

Cormorant: man i said that 4+6 would have to be really good actors if they were the ones that opened door 3...and while they didn't kill snake, i sure underestimated our queen of the stage akane kurashiki

the baseline was NOT where i thought it was

Storm: no one does it like her

#zero escape #999 #999 spoilers #'i'm calling shots for the joy of being wrong' <- girl who just correctly identified the murderer #i wanted to include more back-and-forth but i didn't have enough notes and illustrations to pad it. storm still got the last word in hehe #talk tag #THIS is what the waiting until the ink is dry post was about.#i went and got a new kneaded eraser because my old one was fossilized. are you all happy

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thezombieprostitute · 4 months

Text

Dream Come True - Part 6

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Bullying, Fat shaming, Insecure reader, Kidnapping, Mild violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 5 -- Part 7

Series Masterlist

“So where are we at with identifying the culprit?” Steve’s voice was tight, even over speakerphone.

“Jake’s identified the hacker,” Curtis reported. “But we’re still nowhere closer to finding out what they want or who they’re working for.”

“Has anyone tried contacting the hacker,” Bucky asked from the phone.

“If we did that we could alert their boss,” Mace warned. “That could get Ran killed if we’re not careful.”

You were sitting with Jake, listening to the conversation. Curtis had initially not wanted you to partake but you had to present your case to the Bosses, backed up by Jake’s data. You fidgeted nervously, feeling helpless.

“Jake did manage to get a foothold in hacker’s bugs so we can hear anything that they hear,” Curtis continued. “Is there a way you can call him about something? Maybe get a code phrase from him?”

Everyone heard Bucky curse at that, “the idiot never learned them. Insisted he’d never need them.”

“So,” Steve started, “we’ve got a possible hostage situation where Ransom is being watched closely and he was only able to communicate with Teach?”

“That’s actually a good point,” Mace perked up. “Why did he send those to her? To her apartment, specifically? Why wouldn’t he send, or something similar, to someone in the family? Or even to the cybercafe where he knew she worked?”

“Probably because she’s not in the family,” Bucky pondered aloud. “Anything he sent to us, legitimate side of things or not, would be flagged for suspicion. They don’t know she’s connected to us.”

“Then I can go in,” you blurt out. All heads in the room snapped to look at you. Instead of letting yourself be intimidated, you continued, “I…I could go in under the guise of angrily returning his gifts. I’ll wear something he’ll recognize as acknowledgement of his code…something one of his characters would’ve worn.”

“No,” Curtis barked. “There are too many unknowns here.”

“She might be our best bet,” Steve intervened. “Teach, how will you know if your message is getting across?”

“Well, Jake’s only identified audio trackers, right? What if I were able to write a question or something while yelling at him about the gifts? Maybe even write some cards out beforehand to make it easier?” While Mace and Jake nodded acknowledgement and thought about it, you could feel your confidence withering under the intensity of Curtis’s glare.

“I don’t know what other practical options we have,” Bucky commented.

“NO,” Curtis snarled. “We’re not putting an outsider in danger! She’s not part of the family, she shouldn’t be risking herself like this.” While his words were for everyone else, his eyes never left you. You’d never seen him so worked up before. It gave you an idea as to why his people tended to follow orders over arguing with him.

“We have audio,” Steve interjected. “She can set up some code phrases or words of her own and let us know what’s going on.” Curtis opened his mouth to say something but Steve cut him off, “and if you try saying no again, Curtis, I’ll leave you out of the planning. Especially if you have no better alternatives.” Curtis clenched his jaw, still glaring at you. Part of you wanted to shy away from him, but you needed to show him you could back up your talk so you stayed firm.

“What are some possible things you could fit into a natural conversation to give us updates,” Mace asked you.

“Um…well, if I call him “Mr. Drysdale”, like I always did, it’ll mean everything’s okay. If I call him “Ransom”, it’ll mean there’s something wrong but I can’t identify it. If I call him “Hugh”, I’m telling you I’m in danger, please come get me now. Do you think you can work with that?”

Mace nodded and added, “if there are other people there, complain about working for him for so many years, using the number of years to tell us how many there are.” You nod in understanding.

“I’ll call Destroyer to set her up with a car,” Bucky chimed in. “He’ll make sure it has no identifiers that can mark her as suspicious. Be ready to go in thirty, Teach.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, just loud enough to make sure he can hear you. You’re still faltering under Curtis’s silent deathglare. You see him twitch at your words and a bit of pain seeping into his eyes.

You pull up into the driveway and put the car in park before taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. Jake, Mace and Hal ran you through a bunch of possible conversation scenarios to help you practice your improv and keep your cool.

Curtis seemed to withdraw, focusing instead on getting you the items you needed. He gathered all of the gifts from your apartment to put in the car. He also picked up the four-leaf clover earrings and the Celtic-shield-knot talisman you needed to convey, in Ransom’s code, that the message had been received. As much as his stares made you uncomfortable before, as you left you wished he’d at least look at you.

You take a deep breath, “no going back,” you tell yourself. You step outside the car and grab the gifts before heading inside. You were too stressed to stand and wait after knocking or ringing the bell so you opt to lean into the energy and slam open the door. You stomp towards Ransom’s office where you see him pacing back and forth.

“Mr. Drysdale,” you scold. Ransom’s head snaps to you, he almost seems relieved.

“Ah, Sweetheart,” he purred, “you got my gifts!” He walks closer to you and you see a piece of paper in his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Drysdale. And I’m here to return them to you. I told you, I’m not going to work for you again.” As you speak you hold out your own pre-written card that asks, “someone’s listening?”

Ransom nods, his body language conflicting with his entreating tone, “oh but Angel, you know how well I treat you! No one makes you come like I do.”

“Mr. Drysdale!” Your eyes flash with irritation but he holds out his hands, placatingly, complete with the note you’d seen earlier.

As you take the note he continues, “come on, Angel. I can pay you more and you can get back to worshiping my cock like you did before. Please! You’ve ruined me for other women with that gorgeous, meaty ass.”

Without thinking you smack him hard across the face, “Mr. Drysdale, you will never speak to me again. If you even think about sending me anything else, I’ll get a restraining order!” You turn around and storm out, the note now in your purse. Ransom takes the opportunity to get some ice on his face, hoping he won’t get yet another bruise.

You return to the car and drive away as fast as you safely can. Your eyes are tearing up so you can’t drive too fast. When you feel you’re a safe distance away, you pull into a parking lot and catch your breath. You open up the note and text a photo of it to Jake. You can barely read it because of the tears that keep falling. You hope it’s a good enough photo before you put the note back in your purse and give yourself a minute to catch your breath.

You’re about to turn the car back on and head back when someone taps on your window. Startled, you turn and see a man with bright blue eyes and a thick mustache smiling at you. You roll down your window just a little so you can hear him.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” he leers at you. “What’s a lady like you doing out here by yourself?”

“If you can’t tell me why you’re bothering me, I’m just going to drive off,” you scowled.

“No need for that,” he assures. “I just figured since you told off your boss, you could use a new man to take care of those needs for you. And you are just my type.”

Your eyes widen at his words and you go to start the car. He flashes his gun at you and you freeze up.

“Careful, there, Pumpkin,” I get that you’ve been through a bad breakup with Ran, but I’ll treat you right. If you behave.”

“Um,” you hesitate, visibly shaking. “Can I…can I text my friends? They’re expecting a message of some kind. I’ll just tell them I’m making up with him so they don’t go looking for me?”

“I get to read the message before you send it.”

“Of course, Mr…”

He smiles, making your stomach churn, “just call me Lloyd, Pumpkin.”

“Yes, Lloyd,” you nod. You grab your phone and type out the message to what you hope is an unrecognizable number, before showing it to him.

“Making up with Hugh,” he reads aloud. “Succinct and efficient. I like your style. Go ahead and send it, then come on out of that car and let me show you a great time.”

You hit send and put the phone in your purse, making sure to carry the purse with you as you step out and he leads you to his own vehicle.

Part 5 -- Part 7

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@lokislady82

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x plus size!reader #curtis everett x insecure!reader #mafia!curtis everett #mob!curtis everett #curtis everett #plus size!reader #ongoing series

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ravenloop · 1 year

Note

hi darling! i do see that you want requests in your inbox so im here to fullfil that want of yours :)

oh, btw i really do expect that you're well and, if you don't, please take care of yourself okay??

anyways, the request is for the arcana characters, more specifically for julian, asra and muriel (idk how much characters you accept for request but if you need to you can take one of these off) with a reader that does like art and try to make everything in their lifes a little bit more fun, colorful and artsy.

you can write in any format you're more comfortable in writing, but i think that maybe headcannons is easier. oh, and if you could do the reader gender neutral would be good!

oh and if you couldn't understand something, im sorry, english is not my first language. and if you want to, feel free to ignore this request.

AN: Thank you for the kind words!! I am doing well, busy but well :)) also you speak English amazingly!! Anyways here's your request <33 I haven't done Muriel's route yet so forgive me if anything is wrong :')

Headcannons: Julian, Asra and Muriel with an artistic S/O

—————————————————

Julian:

Honestly? He loves it!

It may not seem like it with the pirate outfit and rogue-ish lifestyle, but Julian is quite the colour lover himself. He just loves the energy and atmosphere vibrant colours bring.

So when you and him meet, and he finds out you're an even bigger lover of colours and an artist at that—the man was practically bursting with excitement.

Definitely gets you some art supplies. But since Julian has little to zero knowledge on being an artist, his art supplies aren't always the most helpful. Though you still appreciate him for trying to help with your hobby, even if his "paint" looks like it belongs in a potion brewing shop.

Practically demands to see some of your older art works and becomes sad if you say no. It's fine though if you don't let him, he'll find them eventually (his words, not yours).

Whenever you're painting or doing anything artsy, he's almost always by your side asking questions and just chatting with you. And as always you enjoy it when he's with you, it makes you feel warm inside knowing he's as passionate about watching you paint as you are about painting.

"Julian, I need you to-"

"I know, I know—you want me to stop staring at you. But I can't help it! You're just so beautiful when you're focused on something you're so passionate about!"

"...That's really sweet, but that's not what I was gonna ask. You're sitting on my paint pallette, could you maybe get off it?"

"WHAT—"

Asra:

You're an artist?? He's ENAMOURED already.

Asra adores everything you paint. He himself is a bit of an artist, but he doesn't paint as often as you since he's always busy with the Major Arcana amongst other things.

When he travels for long periods of time and comes back, he always brings you things like art supplies, trinkets or flowers, saying, "They reminded me of you." And he loves watching your eyes sparkle as you think of the different ways you can use the items.

After a long day, Asra just likes curling up besides you while you create your masterpieces. He'll bring you a warm drink and food too, before settling down on a blanket besides you.

If you ask, he'll give you some pointers or tell you what you could add to your work as you paint. He has an eye for detail.

"I think a few flowers would look really nice over here." He points to a certain part of the canvas.

"You always think flowers look nice in every painting," You playfully respond, and see him look away shyly. "What can I say? They really do!"

Asra could stare at your work for hours without feeling the need to look away. He just loves the mixture of colours and patterns you use. They remind him of the different realms and he finds that beautiful.

Sometimes you even use things from around his home for inspiration. It could be anything—his clothes, the intricate patterns on his curtains, sometimes even his tarot cards, and he won't say it aloud but it gives him a bit of a confidence boost. It's almost as if a piece of him is within your art work.

Muriel:

Muriel is a very... Dark and gloomy man in general.

The forest is his home, but not the pretty and flower-filled part, he makes his home in the shadowy, dark and somewhat dangerous parts of the forest.

So when you come into his life and bring all of this colour and vibrance, it throws him off. He doesn't know what to make of it. He feels to seen with all of it.

"What are you doing?" He approaches you as you hang a vine of flowers over the fireplace.

You look back and smile, "I thought it could use a little bit of... Decor..." You notice the way he frowns, even harder than usual as he stares at the decoration. "I'll take it ou-" "No. Leave it."

You're shocked, "Muriel, if you don't like it I can-" "I like it. It's pretty... Like you" He mutters the last part, so softly you almost don't hear him. Then he leaves. Quickly.

You smile to yourself.

After that you notice he spends more time with you as you decorate or make things, you even started asking him for his opinion on some things. He always responds with "Hm..." But you'll take what you can get.

Sometimes you take Inanna with you to hunt for things in the wild that you could use. Muriel was weary at first of letting you go with her, but Inanna seemed happy to go, so Muriel allowed it. After a while you even convinced him to come along on your art scouting journeys too. He comes in handy when you get carried away and find a little too many items that you need to take with you.

Oh and if anyone ever criticizes your art, no they didn't. In fact, almost as soon as they criticize it, they're on their knees worshipping you and the art itself. Why? Let's just say a big, terrifying man glaring down at you with eyes that say "I will rip your limbs apart and relish in every second of it" is not very fun.

—————————————————

#the arcana #the arcana x reader #julian devorak #the arcana julian #julian devorak x reader #the arcana asra #asra alzanar #asra alzanar x reader #the arcana muriel #muriel x reader #julian x reader #asra x reader

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makeitmingi · 4 months

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 15]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

When Yunho walked in, he was surprised to see just Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho there. You were not to be seen anywhere. From the looks of it, Seonghwa had taken over your head chef duties temporarily, instructing other other two on their tasks for the morning bakes.

"Morning." Yunho greeted, emerging from the locker room after having put his things down. The 3 returned the greeting, turning back to what they were doing.

No doubt, with one person down, they were busy and needed to keep up the pace to deliver on time.

"Is (y/n) coming in late?" Yunho asked as he went to wash his hands.

"No. She's not coming in at all today." Wooyoung replied as he was pouring the cake batter into the cake pans. Yunho stopped for a while, why were you not coming into work today?

"She's sick." Seonghwa informed on your behalf, not offering a lot of added information.

"Oh, I'll step in and help then. The others should be in soon to set up out front." Yunho said. He was to the locker room to retrieve his apron, tying it around his waist and pulling his sleeves up. He came to assist Seonghwa.

"Is she okay?" Yunho asked as he helped measure out the ingredients accoridng to the recipe card. Jongho would have to step up to sous today so Yunho did the prep work.

"She's fine. I'll check on her after this." Seonghwa replied.

"Yunho, can you help me get more vanilla paste from the dry store?" Wooyoung requested.

"Sure thing." Yunho went to the pantry. In the few moments he was there, he couldn't help but feel sad that he wouldn't see you today or work with you.

At the same time, he was worried about you. Should he text you or visit you to see how you were doing?

"Yunho?"

"C-Coming!" Yunho grabbed what Wooyoung needed and left the pantry, passing it over to him. As the rest of the boys came, Yunho instructed them to set up outside while he helped in the kitchen.

"San? Do you have an extra pair of hands?" Yunho asked. San turning to Mingi, who nodded, assuring the other that he could manage setting up the barista counter on his own. San came in, washing his hands and going to help Wooyoung. Yunho briefly stepped out to make sure that everyone was fine outside.

"Where's (y/n)?" Yeosang asked as he cleaned the mugs and stacked them onto the shelves.

"She's sick. That's why the kitchen team needs someone there. So for today, if anyone is confident and available to help out, please volunteer in the kitchen." Yunho spoke.

"Sure. Although, I think it'll be between San and Mingi. For safety, I shall not volunteer." Hongjoong chuckled.

"Agreed." Mingi said, making Hongjoong threaten to punch him.

The kitchen team was fine. They operated as usual, your absence did not hinder them or delay them. Plus, San was able to help out with small things.

"I'll bring this out on my way." San said, taking the trays of muffins out to display to prepare for the store opening,

"Can you two manage? Then I'll start on mise en place for tonight to save us time." Jongho asked.

"Go ahead." Seonghwa nodded. Jongho began preparing the yakumi mise en place containers that had chopped garlic, spring onions, soy sauce, salt, pepper and other things that the chef might need at the stove or their preparation counter.

"I'll need butter." Wooyoung raised his hand. Jongho put the butter into one of the small metal containers for Wooyoung.

"Seonghwa hyung, any specific requests?" Jongho asked.

"Let me check." Seonghwa took his phone out to see what the menu was for tonight. You had discussed with them last night what the dinner menu would be.

"Chives. There's a lot of chive garnishes tonight." Seonghwa replied, scrolling to make sure he did not miss anything out.

"Okay. I'll fill the oil containers as well." Jongho chopped the chives and covered them in plastic wrap.

"Those look heavy, let me help." Yeosang came in, seeing Jongho lift the oil drums to fill the oil bottles. He filled the grapeseed oil bottles while Jongho did the olive oil bottles.

"Shall I bring those out?" Yeosang pointed to the tray of pastries.

"Yes, please. Careful, they might still be hot." Wooyoung cautioned. Yeosang nodded and brought out the tray.

'Hey! I heard you're sick. Are you feeling alright? - Yunho'

Yunho sent you the message before tucking his phone back into his pocket and going ahead to open the restaurant for the day. He greeted the customers with a kind, charming smile. Being a Friday, there were quite some customers already waiting to get their coffee and morning treat.

"Please wait for collection over at the end of the counter." Yunho smiled after returning the change back to the customer. He waved for Hongjoong to take over.

"Do you need any help?" Yunho asked, entering the kitchen.

"We're good. Thanks for helping and rotating with the others to help us, Yunho." Seonghwa smiled.

"Let me make you guys some drinks. Remember to stay hydrated." Yunho reminded, going out to make the regular drinks of the kitchen team. Just as he brought them in, Seonghwa's phone rang.

"Thanks, Yunho. Just leave it there... Hey, (y/n). Hang on." Seonghwa said, stepping into the locker room to speak to you.

Yunho curiously checked his phone. You had read his message but hadn't replied. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. However, maybe you just woke up and the first thing you did was call Seonghwa to check in.

"Bye." Seonghwa told you and hung up. He noticed Yunho's anticipative stare on him.

"She's fine, Yunho." Seonghwa assured with a small smile, knowing that the taller was anxiously worried. Yunho let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"T-That's good." Yunho smiled. He bowed his head and went back out.

*BZZ BZZ*

'Apologies for taking a sudden day off. - (y/n)'

'Don't apologise! Sickness just happens out of nowhere, no one can ever plan for it :) I hope you're resting well and feeling better!! Take all the time you need! - Yunho'

Yunho read over the message he sent you, he hoped he wasn't too overly enthusiastic. A small smile appeared on his lips, he was glad that you replied. Even if you didn't tell him what happened.

Looking over at your phone, seeing Yunho's reply, you sighed, deciding not to reply for now. You didn't know why you felt bad for lying to him. Maybe because you could tell he was genuinely worried for you. But you swallowed whatever feeling you had and focused on what was happening in front of you.

"So (y/n), where are you working now?" The question that was suddenly thrown at you was unexpected.

"What?" You blinked, looking up.

"We asked where you were working at now? Why are you so distracted? Pay attention." Your father frowned. Your eyes moved to your stepmother.

"I'm working at a new restaurant that just opened. There's no fixed concept." You replied.

"A start up? How did you go from working at the top kitchens to a start up?" Your father scoffed.

"A great opportunity appeared so I decided to take it. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho are working with me. The environment there is good." You said.

"Seonghwa is the Park's younger son, right?" Your stepmother asked. You nodded in confirmation. She always asked, for some reason, even though the answer never changed.

"You're always floating around. It doesn't look good on your rep sheet. You should find a high end place, settle there and work." Your father lectured. You sighed, why was there suddenly so much focus on you when they never cared?

"I like changes in pace and environment, dad. It gets stagnant when I stay in a place for too long." You spoke calmly.

"You've always been so fickle. Just like your mother." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. You clenched your fists, hating the way he spoke about your mother, like he had never loved her.

"Oh, honey. Don't say that. She was still (y/n)'s mother." Your stepmother said.

It was all a facade. To seem like she was nice to her stepchild, when all she did was put her own son on a pedestal.

"That aside, I'm assuming you and Seonghwa will be attending the charity gala, right?" Your stepmother still had her fake smile plastered on her face.

"I am." You nodded.

"That's good. It's a shame that (y/b/n) [your brother's name] cannot make it." She said sadly.

"True, but all our friends and acquaintance know that he's busy studying surgery in the US. It's understandable." Your father reached over to pat the back of her hand with a chuckle. You were glad that attention was off you and instead, on someone who wasn't even around. You didn't care, preferring they ignore you.

When your mother was still alive, your father was a different person. You were his treasure, his world. But when your mother passed, your father became so cold to you, like he hated you.

It became worse when he brought in your stepmother and stepbrother. You were completely ignored, forgotten.

Your stepbrother was studying to be a surgeon in the US. He was your parents' star child now. You, who pursued culinary, was the black sheep.

"Have you made things official with Seonghwa yet?" Your stepmother asked.

"No. As I've said before, we're just close friends. We will not be together." You frowned.

"But it doesn't seem nice that you're always around him, relying on him and hanging out with him when you don't have the intention of getting together with him." She shook her head.

"We're living in the 21st century. And we've been friends for way longer than you have been here so don't act like you can make decisions in our friendship." You said. Your father slammed his hands onto the table.

"(y/n), that's no way to speak to your mother." Your father scolded.

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have overstepped." She said, like the poor victim that she was.

Both you and Seonghwa came from families of similar status so it was easier to go to functions together instead of having to find a 'date' to accompany you.

"If you want to be introduced to someone, I have some friends who have sons that are single." She giggled.

"I'm good." You replied, picking at your food.

"Your mother is just trying to help, (y/n). At your age, you should find a partner and settle down. Or at least, date." Your father told you, sipping his wine.

"What's with wanting me to settle, dad? Settle at a restaurant, settle in a relationship?" You sighed.

"Because you're never going to get stability in your life if you keep going on the way you are going, (y/n). You can't keep living like this. Or else you're never going to succeed in life. And your stepmother is right, you are holding Seonghwa back from meeting a potential partner for the Park family." He said.

"Until now, with everything I have done, I still haven't succeeded in your eyes?" You asked, ignoring what he said about Seonghwa.

"Not at all." He replied firmly, his gaze hard and cold. You pursed your lips, thinking what to do.

"I'm taking my leave now. I'll see you both at the gala." You stood up despite your stepmother's fake protests of concern. As you exited the private room of the restaurant, you took your phone out.

"You are holding Seonghwa back."

With your father's words fresh in your head, you decided not to text Seonghwa, even if you told him you would after the lunch with your parents.

"Take a walk." You told yourself with a long sigh, you wished you had your hoodie to isolate you but you were dressed a little more formally, an expectation of you when meeting your family.

"(y/n)?" You stopped when you heard someone call your name. You looked up and saw Hongjoong standing there. He looked surprised, eyes looking at you, probably judging the way that you were dressed. You stared at him.

"Are you alright?" He tilted his head, eyes full of concern. Even if you didn't say anything, Hongjoong could sense that you were upset.

"I'm fine." You replied. You saw the art supply bags in his hands, he was probably going to his studio.

"Yunho said you were sick, that's why you weren't there in the morning and that you weren't coming tonight..." He said. You grimaced, were you caught in a lie?

"Are you sure you're okay? Should I call Seonghwa or-" Hongjoong offered. Your eyes widened.

"No need." You cut him off. Realising how unintentionally harsh you might have sounded, you cleared your throat.

"So, I'm actually headed to my studio if you would like to come hang. No obligations, just a place a chill." Hongjoong offered kindly. You knew you should have said no.

"Sure." You nodded. Hongjoong smiled softly and led you to his studio. The two of you walked in silence. To be honest, you didn't look sick and considering how you were dressed up, it looked like you had just went out. But it wasn't his place to question you, especially when he could tell you're going through something.

You agreed to go with Hongjoong because you needed a distraction and you didn't want to be alone. If Hongjoong could take your mind off the conflict with your family, it would help you relax.

"Wow." You entered the studio space. Two entire walls were floor to ceiling windows, letting in a lot of light.

"Sorry about the mess. I don't usually have people over." Hongjoong said in embarrassment.

"It's fine, not as bad as you think. Thank you for letting me into your private space." You bowed your head. Hongjoong stared at you before he burst out laughing.

"(y/n), relax. It's all good." He chuckled, putting the supplies he just got down at his desk.

"Sorry, what do you do again?" You asked, forgetting what he told you before.

"I recreate fashion items. Like shoes. I'll buy sneakers and repaint them or redesign them. But right now, I'm working with different kinds of jackets." He explained, pulling a stool for you to sit.

"Let me show you some stuff I have been working on more recently. I mainly work based of commissions for now or smaller content creators for collaboration projects." Hongjoong dragged over a clothes rack with jackets on them.

"These are amazing." You said, lifting one of the leather jackets up to see the design. Then you moved onto the denim jacket.

"The stitching is a little messy. I usually hand stitch but I'm learning how to use a sewing machine instead." He chuckled, pointing at the fabric arm band he added on.

"I would never be able to do this, I don't have the talent for such art." You said.

"Art comes in many different forms. Your art is in your cooking, I wouldn't even think of recreating a dish of yours." He said.

"Thanks for thinking so highly of me." You let out a bitter laugh. That wasn't supposed to come out so sarcastically but you couldn't help the feeling your father had left you with.

"You're doing great, (y/n). Ignore what others say." Hongjoong smiled.

"Please don't let me keep you away from your work. There's only so much time before you have to return for dinner service." You avoided the topic, wanting to move from it entirely. Hongjoong hummed, moving around his studio. You watched as he sketched out ideas on a paper before doing it on a scrap fabric.

*RINGGGGG*

"Sorry." You stood up and moved to the side to take the call. It was Seonghwa. As expected, he was worried that you hadn't called him or contacted him.

"No, the lunch ended.... Or rather, I ended it." You said, leaning against the wall, letting out a sigh.

"Are you okay? You didn't text or call me... Who am I kidding? You're not okay. Where are you now? Do you want me to get you?"

"No, Hwa. I'm okay now. I bumped into Hongjoong so I'm hanging out at his studio now. Don't worry about me, I'll head home in a bit. Just needed a distraction." You said.

"Wait, you're with Hongjoong? Never mind that. (y/n), tell me what's wrong."

"We'll talk after dinner service, alright? Don't be distracted by me." You rubbed your forehead.

"We are definitely talking after this. Get some rest."

You hummed before hanging up. Maybe you should have just headed home and turned off your phone. You hated how after so long, your father's words still got to you and affected you. Taking a deep breath, you straightened up and headed back to where Hongjoong was.

"Everything good?" Hongjoong tilted his head, seeing the slight sour expression on your face.

"I'm not feeling too good. I think I should head home. But thanks for bringing me and the chat." You plastered on a fake smile as you grabbed your bag.

"Want me to take you to a doctor? Or send you home?" He asked.

"No need. I can just take a cab. Thanks again, Hongjoong." You patted his shoulder and walked out of the studio.

During dinner service, Yunho listened from the pass window, Wooyoung and Jongho asking Seonghwa how you were or if he has heard from you. He felt bad for eavesdropping but he was curious.

"I spoke to her on the phone for a bit. I'm going to see her after work. You know how she gets..." Seonghwa sighed.

"Want us to go too?" Wooyoung offered.

"It's okay. I'll go see how she is first. She didn't sound too good on the phone." Seonghwa replied.

"Promise you'll tell us how she is." Jongho said. Seonghwa hummed in reply. Yunho pouted slightly, he grew increasingly worried about you. Maybe he was overstepping but he felt compelled to go visit you at your house and see how you were. But if Seonghwa was going, Yunho knew he shouldn't go.

"Hey, Seonghwa. Are you going to see (y/n)?" Yunho was surprised to hear Hongjoong entered the conversation. The shorter must not have seen Yunho standing by the pass window.

"Yeah. After work. What's up?" Seonghwa asked.

"She left this at my studio when she was there earlier. Help me return it to her?" Hongjoong presumably passed something to Seonghwa.

"I will. Thank you. And thanks for accompanying her earlier." Seonghwa said.

"No need to thank. What are friends for?" Hongjoong chuckled before leaving the kitchen. Yunho's eyes widened as he overheard this conversation. You were physically with Hongjoong earlier, at his studio?

What was your relationship with him that you met him outside of work, especially when you took a sick day?

His mind raced with possibly theories and reasons. He hadn't even noticed that you were that close with Hongjoong. And most importantly, why was there an ache in Yunho's chest at the thought of you being closer to Hongjoong compared to him?

Series masterlist

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #yunho scenarios #yunho series #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines

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dulcewrites · 7 months

Text

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”

#rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range imagine #outer range #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #outer range fic #black!reader #lewis pullman

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wavytam · 7 months

Text

SaNami in Thriller Bark and Whole Cake: How one arc was used to foreshadow the other

In this post I will talk about how Sanji's and Nami's storylines in Thriller Bark were used to foreshadow a lof of elements that played out in Whole Cake Island...

... and might as well foreshadow their dynamic in future arcs.

I decided to write this post after I rewatched Thriller Bark.

As the episodes went by, having in mind that I had already caught up on Wano in the anime, I noticed some odd… similarities left in Thriller Bark that made me realize how much it foreshadowed future arcs (like Marine Ford and Fishman Island), but especially Whole Cake Island (and Egghead, but this is an analysis for the next post) especially the moments relating to Sanji and Nami.

I also remembered something that was speculation at the time and if anyone has a source for this information, please share, since it's been a while I've read about it and I don't remember where I got it from: apparently, during the time Marine Ford was being animated (and the manga was in Fishman Island) one of Oda's employees lost some type of sketchbook containing concepts and plans about Whole Cake Arc.

If this is true, it means that Oda had a lot of things figured out way ahead of the current storyline of One Piece - which is not exactly a surprise. But after rewatching Thriller Bark, I dare to speculate that Oda already had a lot of things planned for Whole Cake even before Fishman Island and even Marineford, and he actually used Thriller Bark itself to foreshadow it.

Obviously, every arc of One Piece usually leaves hints to future arcs (especially when it comes to Wano and Elbaf - Oda foreshadows both in almost every arc), but I'd like to take a moment to talk about the ones (on top of my head) that Thriller Bark left hints of.

Wano: Zoro's encounter with Ryuma's Zombie and Moria mentions Kaido.

Marineford: By the very end of the Thriller Bark arc, Boa Hancock's name is mentioned, and we also have a scene of Lola warning Luffy about Ace's vivre card.

These are just some of the elements I remember and won't get into much detail, otherwise this post would need two parts lol.

Anyway, with what I said in mind, there's one arc that Thriller Bark strangely foreshadows more than any other and, not only that, but also introduces elements that will later be essential in said arc: which is Whole Cake Island. There are so many moments thrown here and there, especially during Sanji and Nami's moments, that it got me curious to know for how long Oda:

Had planned to write Whole Cake

Had the entirety of Sanji's storyline figured out

Had planned some specific interactions between certain characters

As you can already guess by the title of this analysis, my assumption is that Sanji and Nami's roles and interactions in Whole Cake Island were something that Oda had planned ever since Thriller Bark… and maybe even before.

In this next part, I will show you the reasons why and also why I think that some of their moments in Thriller Bark still weren't mirrored in Whole Cake but might be in Egghead or maybe Elbaf.

Nami and Sanji’s roles in Thriller Bark

First, let's remember what happens to Nami and Sanji separately and how both their storylines intersect throughout Thriller Bark.

Nami starts off by getting lost from the Straw Hats along with Usopp and Chopper (the infamous Weak Trio) inside Thriller Bark. Through their perspective we see how weird and macabre the setting is and how there is something wrong with its inhabitants - specifically Doctor Hogback.

Meanwhile, Luffy, Sanji and the rest of the Straw Hats follow the trio's tracks and have an entirely different perception of the place. Through their perspective, everything that scared Usopp, Nami and Chopper is… kinda pathetic and weak? Lol, I loved how Oda planned this.

Once the Weak Trio arrives at Dr. Hogback's Manor, Nami is assaulted (ugh) by an invisible Absalom (mind you, a guy who has lion parts - a symbol that usually is connected to her throughout One Piece) and he decides to take her as his wife. Meanwhile, as the trio tries to escape, and the rest of the Straw Hats are looking for them, Sanji's and Zoro's shadows are taken by Gecko Moria and put inside Zombies. Something interesting happens: because Sanji is not well known like Zoro, Moria underestimates him and puts his shadow inside the body of a weaker Zombie (keep that in mind for later).

Sanji's zombie finds Usopp, Chopper and Nami, and rebels against his "programming" to protect Nami specifically.

That's when Moria's minions realize that Sanji is much stronger than they anticipated.

Later, Chopper and Usopp escape, but Nami is taken by Absalom. She also meets a Zombie named Lola whom she ends up befriending. Through Usopp, (original) Sanji finds out Nami was harassed by Absalom and was planning to force her into a marriage.

He gets so mad, he lights himself on fire and we have these interesting exchanges.

(Posting two translations of the same panel because both translations are so interesting: one of them Zoro says that he might “transform” into something, but the other says he might “mutate” - and considering the things we know now of Sanji’s past once again shows how Oda gives a lot of thought to Sanji’s characterization.

Anyway, if anyone knows which phrase is the closest to the original japanese and what else it could be talking about, feel free to comment or DM! I have zero knowledge of Japanese and I just know how many hints we might be missing because of it).

Meanwhile, Nami is (probably) drugged by Absalom and is carried to the altar to get married.

Obviously (and under Luffy's orders) Sanji goes to look for Nami and we know how things go after this. He

crashes Nami's "wedding",

fights Absalom as he protects her body against any minor harm,

and ends up talking about his dream to become invisible and how he studied devil fruits when he was a kid (that moment for me is enough to prove that Oda had already planned Sanji's entire storyline with Germa, his siblings and his metal mask - I will talk about it in more detail later)

All of that effort seemed to go nowhere since Sanji was unable to free Nami. Absalom escapes with her and tries to marry her again, only for her to (finally) wake up and defeat him.

That's when we realise that it was thanks to Sanji, who weakened Absalom in their previous fight, that Nami was able to (in a sense) oneshot Absalom so easily.

So, unbeknown to himself and Nami, Sanji did end up saving Nami - this is an interesting motif in their relationship, and something I plan to talk about more in future posts.

Later, after everything is resolved, Nami befriends the real Lola. Lola not only talks about her mother Linlin (the Big Mom, one of the Four powerful Yonkos) but also gives Nami Linlin's vivre card. Only later in Whole Cake we find out Lola ran away from home and Chiffon mentions how she rejected the advances of a prince (Loki - Elbaf foreshadow) whom Nami takes interest upon for being… well, a prince.

Obviously a bunch of other things happen, but I only talked about the points I wanted to explore in this analysis. I'm sure you noticed there's a lot of them to talk about already.

Also, if you watched/read WCI I'm sure that, as I listed what happened in Thriller Bark, you already noticed how there are some interesting elements in it that later become crucial for While Cake to play out the way it did.

As I mentioned, one of the most important things that I think Oda had been planning to write ever since Thriller Bark (or before) was for Nami specifically to participate in Whole Cake.

This part I will leave for last, since the next topics will serve as a way to explain it.

TB Absalom's Invisibility and Sanji's Dream mirror WCI Stealth Black and the Rejected Germa Prince Storyline

Well, this topic is kinda controversial because of the sexual undertones it has and because of how Oda portrays Sanji's perviness. I won't talk about this part here since it's not the focus of this analysis, but I will link you to an amazing post that explores exactly that part of Sanji's character.

Here I will focus on the other part that Oda left implicit: which is the fact that Sanji had the dream to be invisible ever since he was a kid (when he still didn't have his hyperfixation on women) and how, at the same time, it was the exact power he was "supposed" to have as a Germa soldier and prince.

To me Oda not only used Absalom's powers as a way to leave open the possibility of Sanji having invisibility related powers in the future (which he kinda did in Wano), but also to tie it to his past with Germa.

Only now do we know that the power Sanji was originally supposed to have was invisibility and the fact that Oda put Absalom with that exact power might show how ahead he was on the story (or how good he is with improvising hehe).

Now, this raises the question: if Sanji's mutation was supposed to be invisibility, where exactly did those fire powers come from? (This is something for a future post ;))

TB Nami and Lola mirrors WCI Nami and Chiffon

Through the bond Oda developed between Lola and Nami, the Straw Hats (and we, readers) gathered a lot of important information that would later be used by Nami herself to survive their adventure through Whole Cake.

First, Lola had a twin sister, Chiffon, who, because of the bond already established between Lola and Nami, ended up taking a liking to Nami in Whole Cake (and vice versa).

Big Mom's Family and Political Marriages

Second, as we get to know Lola in Thriller Bark we see that the idea of finding the man she loves and marrying him is an important concept for her. This is later on explained in Whole Cake, where we realize that Big Mom uses political marriages to gain more power and wanted to force Lola to marry prince Loki. That’s the sole reason for Lola to leave Big Mom and, once again, it seems like something Oda had already planned in Thriller Bark.

Big Mom's Vivre Card

Third, the Vivre Card Lola gave Nami was crucial for Nami, Luffy and the rest of the crew to navigate through Whole Cake and control Big Mom's henchmen. A lot of the problems that they were going through in Whole Cake were resolved because of that simple vivre card given around six arcs earlier, Thriller Bark.

Sanji and Nami Wedding Crashing Each Other's Weddings and Bridal Carries

Well, this is the part the SaNami Fandom has already talked about the most and for obvious reasons. It's not everyday a ship has so many wedding motifs, and the fact that Oda chose to parallel a lot of things that happened during the wedding in Thriller Bark at Whole Cake with Sanji and Nami, obviously adds more fuel to the fire.

This topic, along with Lola, is actually the reason for me to write this analysis, since, in my opinion, there are a lot of details that seem too coincidental to be considered unplanned.

First detail: we have the fact that Nami was the main reason for Luffy to ever decide to invade Big Mom's territory and go after Sanji, whilst in Thriller Bark it was Sanji himself who was determined to stop Nami's wedding at all costs and Luffy… well, he just gave Sanji permission to do his thing lmao.

Second: during both wedding ceremonies, Sanji carried Nami bridal style; something that the groom was supposed to do with the bride.

Third detail: both Nami and Sanji were being forced to get married and it was always the other side that would try to save the forced groom/bride. The best part about this is the fact that neither Sanji nor Nami knew about the amount of difficulties the other went to save one another. Which brings me to the next topic:

Nami's Obliviousness to Sanji's efforts mirrors Sanji's obliviousness to Nami's efforts

Okay, this is more of a fact for the entirety of One Piece, but I think it's more evident in both Thriller Bark and Whole Cake. Again, although this is a topic that I want to talk about in more detail in another post, I do think it's worth mentioning a bit in here.

In Thriller Bark, Nami does not realize how important she is for Sanji and the extent of the things he is willing to do for her safety. Not only that, but Nami is also not aware of the things Sanji already did for her ever since Arlong Park.

In Whole Cake, it's more subtle, but the fact that only Luffy truly saw Sanji's breakdown and how much he was sacrificing himself for his crew, shows that Nami still does not know the true extent of Sanji's care and selflessness.

And it raises the question: why? Why is it that Oda does not let Nami (until this day) know how much Sanji did to his crew and especially to her? To me, it's because, if Nami knew, she would treat Sanji differently. If she knew that Sanji does have a preference for her, that he defended her in Arlong Park, that he tried everything he could to protect her in Thriller Bark, and that he did a lot of things he wouldn't do for any other woman, maybe her view on him would change.

Consequently some type of tension between the two could eventually build up and what Oda has been trying to avoid for years (which was a romance between the crew) would eventually happen, and the entire dynamic of the crew would shift (but this is speculation ofc, it might be nothing and even if Nami knew, nothing could change).

And let's also consider that, although Sanji looks for Nami's validation when she witnesses him fighting, he never tries to brag or tell her about the times he defended her when she wasn't looking.

Obviously, in Whole Cake, Sanji is thinking about the entire crew when he sacrificed his happiness, not only her, but as I said, it's more about the fact that Nami does not know how much Sanji truly works under wraps to make sure the people he loves are safe - and how selfless he truly is for her when she only sees his perverted side.

Now, the same can be said about Sanji, to some extent. It's clear in the manga that Sanji does have strong feelings for Nami, if it's reciprocated, it's up to debate. But no one can deny that Nami does care about Sanji and sometimes, she cares more than anyone else in her crew.

We all noticed how Nami was the most eager to rescue Sanji, always trying to bring the seriousness of the situation to the rest of the crew and dragging Chopper, Luffy and Brook to the right path whenever they got distracted by something else.

However, when it came to truly knock some sense into Sanji to accept help, Nami was conveniently taken out of the picture in favor of Luffy.

Keep in mind that I am in no way complaining, the moments Sanji had with Luffy were beautiful, and he obviously would have the focus: Luffy is the main character and Sanji's captain.

But the fact that Oda kept Nami away in one of Sanji's moments of fragility, when he exposed his true nature and showed how caring he really is, can come off as suspicious. As if Oda does not really want Nami to see those moments… yet.

You can say that Oda also kept Chopper and Brook out of the picture, but even when Nami is with them, Oda kind of separates Nami's behavior from theirs. He emphasizes Nami's reactions and gives her serious expressions while the rest are put in more comical situations.

Also, during the Luffy vs. Sanji fight, one of the most emotional moments of WCI, Nami didn't need to be there if Oda only wanted to emphasize the importance of Luffy to Sanji.

In my opinion, he put Nami there, because Sanji cares about her and her opinion more than any other woman’s, even more than Robin’s. Which makes the following moment even more hurtful, especially because that was the only time Nami didn't use the "kun" honorific - showing how she lost respect for him.

Conclusion: the importance of Sanji and Nami in each other’s stories

By looking at these topics, I think it's very interesting how Oda made sure to use parts of Nami's plot in Thriller Bark to gather information that would help her, Luffy, Brook and Chopper to save Sanji in Whole Cake.

To me, the fact that so many of these things seemed to point out something: the interactions that both Nami and Sanji have is something that Oda thinks about carefully. Not only that, but everytime they are having a major moment/development, most of the times one is there to support the other.

Examples:

In Arlong Park Sanji defended Nami's actions

In Ennies Lobby Nami had a major fight against Khalifa because she knew Sanji wouldn't fight a woman

Until Nami decided to forgive Jimbei, Sanji was there to defend her

Again, the only exception is during Sanji's and Nami’s arcs in Wano - but in my opinion it's because Oda’s intentional hiding of Sanji’s story from the other Strawhats will pay off in the future and will be a major factor in the One Piece story.

Well, this is it.

Okay, with all of those topics in mind, there are two main events in Thriller Bark that happened in relation to Nami and Sanji that still don't seem to have been mirrored:

Sanji's Zombie fought his own programming to protect Nami in Thriller Bark mirrors (?)

The underestimation of Sanji's True Power, what it truly is and how will it be activated

I plan to write that part for my analysis of SaNami in Egghead. If anyone is interested, stay tuned!

For everyone who stayed until the end, thanks for reading!! See you in the next post.

#SaNami #SaNami Analysis #SaNami Theory #My Theories #Sanji x Nami

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