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arminsumi · 11 months

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CONFESSION

badboy!goth!Eren x innocent!fem!reader ♪

You and Eren attend the same church. After mass, you find yourself tempted into a confessional booth with him.

⚠️Cws; mdni, SMUT, sacrilege, religious themes (Catholic), 🌶️🚨this some nastyyy smut, very unholy smut, sacrilege + sinning kink, light humiliation kink, corruption kink, 'slut' and 'angel' nicknames, lowkey bruising (thighs, tight gripping), size kink, unholy dirty talk, defloration, blowjob (deepthroating), unprotected sex (creampie), semi-public sex (in a church's confessional booth), implied clothed sex

Wc; 4.2k

Eren was that boy who all the church moms frowned upon and forbade their daughters from talking to. To them, he was the example of a soul corrupted by sin. They upturned their noses and looked away, appalled, when he had the audacity to sit a Sunday morning mass.

But all their daughters secretly crushed on him. How could they not? He was devilishly handsome. Brooding eyes. Gothic style. Long hair. Black nails. He was audacious, hypocritical, shameless, provocative – offensive, even, with a silver cross dangling from his neck.

Some mothers gossiped and debated him. Was he attending out of mockery? Was he absorbing even a shred of the Bible as it came from the preacher's lips? His interlocked fingers and wide-spread legs repulsed them. They called his heavy-eyed stare 'soulless'. To them, he was the serpent that they needed to protect their Eves from.

"There he is again!" Your mother frowned, turning away from her friend. "He's just standing there, what is someone like him doing standing around a church for? He has to be a creep!"

You walked into said church. Mass was just about to start. Eren gave you a long, desirous look-over. You wanted to smile at him but had to do it discretely under your mother's speculating gaze.

"G-good morning..." you greeted him shyly. "Morning." he replied in his deep, trilling voice.

You made sure to walk as slowly as possible past him so he could get a good look, which wasn't as surreptitious an action to him as you thought; nothing could be put past Eren's attention. He sniffed out your crush on him long ago. He knew very well the effect he had on innocent girls like you.

"Quickly, quickly, Y/n, why did you walk so slowly past that creep? You know he's been eyeing you out since you got out of the car." your mother furrowed her brows at you. You shrugged. "Never mind, did you bring my scarf – thank you, angel. Let's follow inside."

You shuffled into church with the rest of the people. Your mother was complaining about your skirt being too short, and your shirt being wrinkled; meanwhile your skirt reached knee-length, and your shirt was freshly ironed this morning. She fussed with your clothes, insisting that they somehow tainted your pure image. She didn't want her little angel looking enticing to any lurking devils.

She just about choked from shock and repulsion when she saw Eren was behind you. Everyone was lining up at the holy water font to dot the symbol of the cross on their body with their fingers. You looked back at Eren very briefly and flashed him a smile. He paid you an interested look in response, slightly smirking back. Your heart palpitated excitedly. Mother aggressively grabbed your shoulder and forced you to look straight ahead. "Don't look at him." she hissed, "Listen to me, angel, I don't want you associating with people like him, alright?" you nodded obediently.

Eren was smirking while eavesdropping on you and your mother.

He waited for the two of you to move ahead, walking languidly in succession, and came to a brief stop at the holy water font. Like you, he dipped his fingers in and made the sign of the cross. But unlike you, he did it nonchalantly and lamely, like how one might do the action of plucking a stray hair from their clothes.

A fluttering excitement rose in many girls hearts when the man their mothers disapproved of sauntered into view. When he kneeled to the statue of Christ, he bore his dark eyes up at it. The mothers scrunched their noses at him. They couldn't be completely blamed for regarding Eren so lowly; anyone witnessing someone dressed in funeral-like attire at a cheery Sunday mass would think that their kneel to Christ was a deliberate act of mockery.

You struggled to keep your gaze lowered when Eren walked past the row you were seated in with your mother. His cologne wafted across to you, setting your already smoldering soul aflame with desire. You only glanced up once, just once, but you met his eyes; and that small moment created a tension between you and Eren to last the entirety of the Mass, despite him being sat far behind you.

Though you were unbearably tempted to look behind your left shoulder, you kept your eyes fixed on the sight of your rosary draped over your fingers, hands folded on your closed bible.

When you spread it open, your bookmark wedged in between the pages of Psalms immediately caught your attention. You hadn't opened it since your last attendance to Catechism, when you left it on an empty seat to quickly shuffle through your bag. What was scribbled on your bookmark made your heart pang excitedly; poor handwriting spelled out:

Care to meet up in the confessional booth next Sunday after mass? ♥️ Eren

The stale silence of the church was punctured by the preacher's reverberating voice, but you didn't hear a word of what he was preaching.

You gave in and shot a look behind your left shoulder. Eren was sat a few rows behind you, his eyes unwavering from the preacher. He could feel that you were looking at him, so he smirked. You looked at him until he removed his attention from the preacher and put it on you instead. Such a languid, sweeping movement of his brooding eyes.

Communicating during mass wasn't an idea that your mind dared to trespass on, not for fear of earning concerned glances from others, but for fear of being condemned by your mother besides you.

In that moment, however, she was fully absorbed in what the preacher was saying. Completely absorbed. You wouldn't have been surprised if she ignored the sound of someone being murdered in the courtyard right then. So you gutsily flashed your bookmark at Eren, smiling shyly, to communicate to him that you got the message.

He cockily wettened his lips and flicked his brows up at you in response. Then he slid down his seat in a deliberately comedic way to amuse you. Everyone thought him to be such an intimidating menace, but there he was; putting a humored smile on your face. He thought you looked so pure – too pure. He wanted to taint that purity, it's all the thought about during mass.

The preacher called for a moment of silent prayer, and you turned your attention away from Eren. Following suit with the others, Eren closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer, thinking hard about the image of your legs spread wide for him.

In his mind, he was stood leaned up against the confessional booth wall. Your innocent gaze was fixed up at him adoringly while you were on your knees for him.

This fantasy intensified as mass went on, while the preacher melodiously spoke. Eren stared at the back of your head, his eyes were roaming hungrily over any bit of you that was in sight; your shoulders, your hair, your neck – the cross clasped around it. He wouldn't have been surprised if hell opened up beneath him right then and swallowed him whole for his filthy thoughts.

Mass felt like it dragged on for you and Eren, since all you and him anticipated was embracing together in the confessional booth. While everyone else rose from their seats and slowly left the church one by one, you two remained behind. You excused yourself to your mother, saying that you wanted to go to confession after praying a little longer. She was so happy to hear that, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Before leaving, she scowled at Eren a few rows behind you, who pretended to be readying himself to leave. "Don't you talk to him behind my back... I expect you to be home in time for dinner." she warned.

You nodded obediently. As soon as the church was vacated and quiet, you and Eren came to each other. He smirked and teased you, "Hey sinner. Mind if I come to confession with you?" he asked, just to be sure sure that you wanted this. You nodded eagerly. Eren almost felt bad because of how cute and neat you looked today – he was going to destroy that.

Soon you found yourselves giggling into a confessional booth. No priest was on the other side.

"My mother doesn't want me talking to you..." you told Eren in a hushed voice.

"How surprising." he replied sarcastically. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Because... because she said that she doesn't want me going to confession more than I already do..."

"Oh... really?" Eren looked at you both desirously and amusedly. "Tell me, what kind of sins is someone like you repenting for?"

"Many sins..." you stuttered. "Like, um, using the Lord's name in vain. Disrespecting my mother, h-having impure thoughts..." you trailed off, not able to think of any more.

He scoffed a little. "I'd love to add a sin to your list that's actually worthwhile to confess."

"Wh-what d'you mean, what kind of sin?" you asked eagerly.

"Get on your knees, I'll show you."

Eren loved witnessing a pure, religious girl like you lowering onto her knees before him. You looked up at him, face levelled with the zipper of his black pants.

"Don't get shy on me, angel." he said when you looked hesitant at his bulge. "Hm... I'll bet that you've never done this before, huh?" You nodded. "Yeah, I-I'm a virgin..." you confessed nervously, hoping that your revelation wouldn't turn him off. His pants were visibly tightening right before your eyes, and you were achingly curious about what a cock looked like. You kept your mind so sacred that you hadn't even touched porn in your life. "A virgin, huh? I can change that if you want." Eren offered deviously. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Y-yes please! I-I want to... I want to d-d-do that with you..." you replied, nearly choking on your saliva. Were you really that excited that you were drooling in front of his crotch? Eren smirked and let his hand come to your cheek.

He began stroking it back and forth with his thumb.

"Okay, angel, I'll take care of you. Promise you'll listen to whatever I say, m'kay? You can tell me to stop any time."

You nodded happily. "Good girl." he cooed quietly, "I want you to take off my pants for me – nice and slowly. Can you do that?" you immediately squeaked in response, "Mhm!"

You raised your hands to the hem of his pants, resting them there lightly. Your finger went for the button of his pants. The unbuttoning sound seemed so loud in that tiny, quiet booth.

When Eren noticed that your finger hesitated on the zipper, he murmured at you, "Need some encouragement?" he asked. You nodded in answer, so he brought his big hands down to help you out. His touch was firm and blissfully warm.

Eren languidly pulled his zipper down himself as you watched with bated breath. He dipped his veiny hand into his pants and stroked himself behind his pants while you watched anticipatorily. You ached for the barrier of his pants to be gone, but lacked the confidence and courage to rid it yourself. "You look so pretty when you're on your knees for me like this." Eren admired.

Your senses perked up when he pulled his length out. A compelled laugh fell from his smirking mouth when he saw your eyes go big. It poked you on the cheek, smearing precum across it. It was firm, no, it was rock-hard. Warm, no, scalding hot – hotter than your cheeks were when you laid eyes on it.

Eren heard you swallow. "Well someone's excited. Wanna open that impatient mouth f'me? That's it – good girl. Wider." he encouraged, pressing his tip inside further and further. He stifled a moan. "Just a little more..."

His big hand came to the back of your head, fingers nestling in your hair, further encouraging you to take more in your mouth. Eren let out a small hiss when he felt your soft, wet tongue press up against the underside.

Though he tried to sneak himself into the back of your throat, you gagged on his dick immediately. "Quiet – quiet, angel." he moaned, feeling your throat constricting around his tip. " 'don't want someone to hear us, do you?"

After giving you time to recompose, Eren wiggled his hips to get himself back in your throat. His tip pushed past the back of your throat and got you choked up, you had watery eyes and a sniffly nose in no time. Eren slid himself fully inside, your lips hit the base of his cock. Your head felt full, so you made an overwhelmed expression; Eren groaned at the sight. "Too much?" he asked, you struggled to nod in reply, so he reluctantly eased out of your throat, the pressure slowly relieving.

He slipped his cock out of your mouth, a mix of saliva and precum wettened it deliciously. You sputtered and coughed. He swallowed desirously. Seeing you in such a state because of him had him throbbing and pulsing. There was a stream of fresh precum running out of his swollen tip. It caught your eye. You folded your hands on your lap and opened your mouth wide, willingly and expectantly, so he eagerly slipped his cock back inside your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," Eren feathered. "That's it, angel – that's it. God damn your lips feel like heaven around me, y'know that? You feel fucking heavenly. Keep sucking, don't stop – don't get shy on me now, angel. 'Feels so fucking good."

Eren was losing it over the sensation of your lips suctioning around his fat cock. He felt himself throb each time you slid your hot lips down his length and felt his precum splurge out onto the back of your tongue when you slid back off. The sinful sound of you amateurly sucking him had him unfolding. You know how long he's thought about this? Too long. During so many choir practices, Eren would observe you from afar, paying no attention to Armin's tiny gospel talk. He watched your lips as you gracefully sang a holy tune with the others. Now those lips were wrapped around his cock in the confessional booth.

Eren felt his blood thrumming in his veins. His whole body flushed and subtly shook under the influence of your mouth. "Jesus," he took the Lord's name in vain under his breath, "You're making me feel so fucking good, Y/n, don't stop." he breathed. "Faster, angel, suck it faster – that's it, just like that. Look at you, so obedient, following whatever I say like I'm your fucking God, huh?"

Eren brushed the hair clinging to your wettened cheek. Each time you had sloppily pulled off his cock for a breather, it hit your cheek and glided across it, leaving a streak of wetness. When it slipped out again, he grabbed your cheeks, and lowered himself to your level for a hasty kiss.

Unbelievably, that kiss of his felt more sinful than sucking on his cock. He was feverishly tasting your tainted lips.

"Angel," he murmured in a heavily lusty voice, that obscene scent fanning against your face from his lips. "Stand up for me, 'wanna fill you up."

You got to your feet in an instant, eager to finally live out the impure fantasies that you once guiltily confessed to in that very confessional booth. Eren's big hands felt up your sides, squeezing and digging into your flesh, not like a lover, but like a devil.

"Get on my lap." He commanded, sitting on the wooden stool. You didn't hesitate to, and crawled right onto his warm lap while he softly moaned at the sinful atmosphere between you and him.

Eren smirked when you looked up at him with such excited, lustful eyes. "What's the matter with you?" he teased, "Looking at me like that's gonna make me want to ruin you. So stop it."

"I-I don't mind..." you responded inaudibly. Eren heard it loud and clear, but he needed to hear you say that again. "What was that, angel?" he called your nickname in such a saccharine tone, it almost felt laced with a condescending undertone.

"I-I said I don't mind if you w-wanna do that... I want it..." you repeated for him. His lips twisted into an attractively devious smile. "I'm sorry, I must be hard of hearing. Could you clarify what you want?" he asked in such a deep voice it was almost sinister. His hands wove through your hair and pulled it so that you were forced to look up at him while you spoke. "I want y-you to r-ruin me, Eren." you admitted. Oddly, it felt cathartic to admit that so honestly and vulgarly.

"Alright angel," Eren whispered against you. He looked you in the eye, you almost caught a glimpse of your coming sins in his pupils. "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

He definitely upheld his promise. You sighed as you willingly let him sink himself inside your tight, wet pussy. Eren felt like his senses heightened when your hole clenched around his bare cock. "Loosen up, 'mmm fuck loosen up – I can't move if you're this tight." he complained, enjoying every bit of your pussy suffocating his hungry cock. You felt yourself clinging to him tighter than you ever clung to your fingers when you indulged in your solo acts in your bedroom. You'd be lying if you said you didn't squeeze and rub your thighs back and forth for friction during mass, when your head was full of Eren.

He wasn't just uncomfortably big; he was testing your limits with each inch, stretching you out so much that he smirked, knowing that you'd feel so empty when this was all done and over.

His thumb came to stroke your cheek and wipe the fat tears sloppily spilling out of your eyes. His cock had a naughty curve about it, and you could really feel it by how his tip applied pressure into your gummy walls. "Take a deep breath f'me. Let it out. There we go... fuck, do it again. Breathe i-in – fuuuck – 'n let it out again." Eren melted through his sentence while your pussy unclenched, little by little, to permit his cock deeper and deeper with each releasing breath. Eren held your body so tightly, it felt like he was never going to let go for the rest of his life now that he had you right where he wanted.

The mothers at church were so right about him. He was, really, just a sinner sniffing out a pure girl to ruin. You could sense that from the moment you came across him one rainy Sunday at Catechism. The lustful and brooding nature of him enticed you, tempted you, each day more and more until you finally ended up here; bouncing in his lap, muffling your erotic moans into his hot mouth, letting his dick beat against a spot your fingers could never reach, making you feel better than you ever have in your life. Eren loved seeing you unravel the more you felt him. He witnessed your holiness slip completely when you accidentally came, pussy gushing around him, tight hole convulsively tightening and untightening in pure bliss.

"Eren," you mewled, barely able to climb down from your high, pawing at his firm chest as you continued to bounce your pussy on his cock. " 'y-you said you were gonna r-ruin me... wh-why am I doing all the work."

He laughed devilishly, "Sorry, I just wanted to see how badly you wanted it." he admitted. When Eren took control and thrust up into you, it took everything you had to not scream. "Oh my G-God, Eren." you whimpered terribly, encouraging Eren's hips to rut against you harder. The sloppy squelching sound grew louder. You could be so glad that no one was in earshot for now, because that sound carried through the whole church along with your unforgivable moans.

Eren smirked up at you, big hands gripping your hips while he fucked up into your pussy. He licked and nipped at your lips, indulging in a filthy makeout session while you crumbled under the feeling of good sex.

You still retained some slivering flame of innocence behind those lust-corrupted eyes, and he wanted to smother it. His fingers dug into the plush of your skin like he was trying to bruise them. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't intend to do that; seeing you at the next mass or Catechism meetup knowing you had bruises on your thighs from a good fucking drove him wild.

You felt him licking a long stripe up your neck and let out a strangled moan; his tip was stubbornly rubbing a gummy spot deep inside your pussy that made you gush messily all over his lap. You felt your orgasm nearing. Just the buildup felt so intense that you started shaking.

"Fuck me 'n fill me up with your cum 'Ren, please please please!" you pleaded nastily, Eren felt proud that he smothered that last bit of innocence in you. "F-fuck me like I'm your slut!"

Eren let out a long groan in response, "God damn, angel, 'm gonna cum if you speak to me like that. I don't even have a condom on."

"I don't care, 'wanna feel your cum inside me." your voice strained.

"Fuck, alright, get off 'n get on the floor for me, angel."

You lifted off his fat cock and laid facing up on the cold floor. Eren took one look at you laying compliantly there and chuckled inside. He knew that you would have followed any of his commands in that moment.

He grabbed your body and guided it into position hastily, not letting more than a few seconds go by without plunging back inside your heat. "Look at that, you're creaming all over me. You like getting fucked on the floor like this? Hm? Bet you do." Eren humiliated you with a devilish smirk. Strands of dark brunette hair shook back and forth as he rutted his hips against you at a feverish pace. No matter how deep his cock hit, or how fast he plunged in and out of you, or how tightly you squeezed him, Eren couldn't be sated. He almost over-exerted himself with how much effort he put into fucking you there on the floor in the confessional booth.

"Oh, angel, 'm gonna cum." Eren announced suddenly. His high crept over him slowly, building up languidly in his body, it felt almost threateningly good. And you? You were an utter mess underneath him, hands holding onto his arms and gripping onto his muscle for dear life.

He sped up his pace. You watched as his silver cross swung back and forth in front of your tear-stained face. He let out a strangled groan before stilling inside you, burying his cock almost uncomfortably deep in your pussy. You completely came undone and felt your tight ring of muscle tightening and untightening convulsively around his fat cock. The sensation of him shooting a hot load inside made your head spin. You sweated so badly that you were sure it was visible through your white shirt. You felt like the biggest sinner in the world right then. An exaggeration, maybe, but perhaps your feeling was justified considering you just lost your virginity in a confessional booth with the boy your mom told you not to dare talk to.

Eren's heavy frame loomed over you. He withdrew slightly to alleviate his weight on your body. The golden cross between your tits gleamed in his eye. The both of you were panting so hard, it felt for a moment that neither of you would ever be able to catch your breaths again.

"E-Eren..." you called out his name weakly when you could finally speak coherently again. "I n-needa get home, m-my mom's gonna be mad I've been out so long."

Eren looked down at you, eyes flitting between your breasts and pussy. Then he finally raised his gaze to your face; it astonished him how you glowed with the same purity as before, even while naked and laid on the floor with a creampie inside you.

"Yeah, get going. Your mother's probably thinking the worst happened to you, like you lost your virginity in a confessional booth or something." Eren chuckled, sliding his cock out of you as slowly as possible to make sure you felt each inch.

A silence hung in the confessional booth while you and him dressed up. You buttoned up the collar of your shirt dress and pulled your cardigan over your shoulders, positioning your cross so that it showed clearly. You looked at him nervously, "E-Eren?"

"Hm?" he looked at you while buttoning and zipping up his pants.

"C-can we do this again sometime?"

His red lips curled into a devious smile. You felt his cum drip down your inner thigh.

"What a perfect idea. You could use another confession."

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yeojinnii · 3 months

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guitar player! karma x reader

being surprised by his lover by showing up to his performance, and having you watch him live for the first time was something karma never knew he needed to see, until now.

fluff, karma x reader, opposite attracts type relationship(readers style/aesthetic isn’t rlly specified though), use of nickname ‘love’, oneshot, like 3 seconds of angst at the start

they seemed a little more giggly than normal today. and, he couldn’t lie, their eagerness for him to leave the house and go to meet with his bandmates put him on edge. usually they were both making lame excuses for him to stay a few minutes longer, which usually ended up in karma being 30 minutes late to his pre-show practice.

“yo, man.” the drummer of the band, as usual, was on karma’s heels about the schedule again. “10 minutes till showtime, this might be our biggest show yet!” his cheeky grin clashed with karma’s fatigued frown. it was always nice to have an audience, but his mind was set on his own personal issues at home.

that was until he received a text.

[name]

do good at your show! don’t stay later than you have to :)

it was reassuring in its own, odd way.

they were practically suffocating in the large venue. it was like highschool graduation all over, but with strangers who looked like they came straight from an ally. there were a few decent, friendly looking people, but being somewhere like this for the first time, everyone looks like they want kill you.

[name] stayed in the back of the crowd, somewhere less empty yet they were still noticeable, as if they didn’t stick out like a sore thumb already. the lady at the entrance practically spit out her drink when they enthusiastically walked into the venue. of course, she greeted them like anyone else, but the confusion was clearly evident.

the lights started to dim, the features of the strangers in front of [name] being lost in the darkness. the chatter faded away and suddenly they felt like the only person in the room.

their heart almost stopped when the crowd screamed as the band entered. [name] had listened to a few songs, but it was basically the bare minimum of what their real fans probably listened to. karma had clearly stated he didn’t listen to his own songs unless he had to, since it was basically all he heard all day, but that they were free to enjoy them as the pleased.

the song was one they didn’t recognize. wether that added or hindered the butterflies. the lump in their throat grew. the way the 4 members were set out, you could easily stare bullets into your favorite, and [name] couldn’t help but fall victim to this practice.

the music blared, louder than you had anticipated it to be. something about seeing him play it live rather than listening to it on your phone was different. they couldn’t help but smile giddily as karma’s eyes ran along the crowd. the room was cramped, which was why everyone was struggling to not be pushed into each-other, like the the crappy pb and j someone makes when there in a rush.

when his eyes met yours, it was like the world stopped. if they felt like the only person in the room before, now they felt like the only person on the planet.

karma’s eyes were locked on [names] while his guitar pick unconsciously stuck against his guitar. both their smiles grew wider as he forced himself to strip his eyes away from them. he played more enthusiastically, more harshly. and he kept finding himself glancing over back at them, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating their presence.

[name] stood outside of the venue eagerly, scrolling mindlessly through the videos and photos they took when karma was playing, which was basically the whole time. they knew they would probably have to go back and delete about half of them later so their storage didn’t kill them, but they savored the moment before it slipped away.

what seemed to be here to stay was the warm embrace of karma’s arm wrapping around their shoulders in a soft form of saying hello.

“i didn’t know you were going to show up today. hell, i didn’t think you’d show up at all.”

they pinched his arm.

“that makes me feel like you’ve been waiting forever for me to finally waddle over here.”

“maybe i have. maybe i haven’t. just wish you would’ve told me, i could’ve gotten you backstage, so you didn’t have to fight the crowd.”

his usual cheshire smile shone through again. the two walked back towards home, [names] ears ringing from the sudden loudness of the music.

“that would’ve ruined the surprise!” karma just rolled his eyes childly, planting a kiss or two onto their head as they walked. “it was more a surprise for you rather me, love-

,your jaw was literally on the floor the whole time. doesn’t take a pro to see.”

[name] just sighed, waiting silently in their momentary defeat of a surprise. he saw this and chucked, swooping in with his worn out voice.

“you should come more often, love. i’m sure the band would love you, and you seem to like the music.” he suggested eagerly, hiding it with his overused voice and tired eyes.

[name] grasped at the hand hanging loosely from their shoulder and smiled. it was like they had been in a trance all night. the two both subconsciously leaned into each-other.

“i’d like that.”

wether he showed it or not, those words made him swoon more than he already was. having them come to the show was something he needed but hadn’t known it yet.

he ruffled [names] hair around just so the atmosphere wouldn’t get too lovey dovey. they giggled. every second was filled with melodic silence and lovesick glances.

hopefully this wouldn’t be the last time they got to walk home like this.

#┆彡 kens stuff #karma x reader #karma akabane #fluff #assassination classroom #ass class #karma akabane x reader #karma x you

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slashersteve · 1 year

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THIS KISS

pairing: Steve Harrington/Female Reader

warning/extra tags: cursing, angst tm, understandable trust issues, my oc timothy taylor from just friends makes a comeback aslasjlaja, cheating but not actual cheating, break-up, beta read by the bestie, edited by me

note: first fic of the new year! happy 2023 everyone! i was inspired by a scene in that 70s show during my 1000th rewatch. Anyways, peep the short (well shorter than usual) imagine format I’m trying :) Thank you for reading and enjoy ♥️

✦ ✦ ✦

It was one kiss. One measly kiss that you didn't even really return when it happened. And yet, Steve kept bringing it up whenever he could. You understood why he reacted this way, considering his past relationship's ending was somewhat similar. He was very clearly masking his hurt with a failed attempt at humor of the situation, but it didn’t make his words hurt any less.

Because of this, you let his comments slide. You didn't say anything when he would say 'oh where you'd learn that? Timmy T?' after you tried something new with your tongue when you kissed. Or the time he had joked lamely and said ‘you’re not going to kiss him again, right?’ when he found out you were on a late shift with Tim at your job (because of course the guy was still your co-worker).

In your defense, you and Steve were not together when it happened, as in when Timothy Taylor kissed you. In fact, the words break and up were apart of Steve’s vocabulary of your conversation before it happened, words straight out of his own mouth. You would have never let Tim kiss you when he asked had you and Steve still been together. So, the short kiss came from a broken heart more than anything else. And also, it had been quite sometime since that kiss, since your first break-up as well, and you didn’t know how much more comments you could handle.

It felt a little silly when you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him when he said those stupid things, you'd roll your eyes to show your irritation, but you never actually said anything to him. Eventually though, it could no longer be avoided.

Steve and you were in your bedroom, his body halfway on top of yours, one leg slotted between your thighs. You hardly got time like this together anymore, with both of you working long hours. You were on cloud nine, having missed Steve and his kisses. You could stay underneath him forever if you could, just him holding you or you holding him. It was your personal heaven, one might say…until he pulled away from your lips with a torn expression on his features.

“God- I’m sorry…but it’s like every time I kiss you all I think about is how your tongue was down Taylor’s throat,” he had said, crawling off of you and settling on the edge of his bed with a sigh.

You were still disoriented, barely registering what he had just said and you were leaning upwards on your elbows, eyebrows furrowing as you asked him to repeat himself.

He sighed again, bringing his hand upward to push his brown strands of hair out of his face before he turned his head to rest his eyes on you, “Your stupid kiss with Taylor- I don’t know if you noticed but I just can’t get over it.”

You gave him a look because you doubted he hadn't noticed that you've noticed- as he hadn’t exactly been hiding it, but ignoring that you sat up, fixing your skirt as you did so and replied, “I already told you I was sorry, Steve, and it didn't mean anything.”

You were frowning at him, and he started to frown deeper too, making your heart clench in your chest that this was bothering him so much and understanding why, but still feeling like he was taking it too far.

“Yeah, I remember…it’s just- I can’t get past it okay? I think about it all the time, and you working with him still- I mean the nerve of him-“ Steve started to ramble, and you pressed your lips together, moving to actually sit next to him.

“He’s nobody to me,” you tried to tell him.

You felt the sarcastic remark coming before he even said it.

“Oh he was totally nobody to you when you and him frenched in front of theater 3,” he said, then laughed bitterly. Your jaw tightened at this, and you were moving to stand. He lifted his head to look at you.

“Would you stop saying stupid shit like that?” You demanded, “I told you I was sorry- but I honestly don’t see why I have to be. You broke up with me…we weren’t together for two weeks or did you just forget that part?”

His eyes widened slightly, and he started to say, “Hey! I didn’t want to break up with you, though! I told you…”

You huffed, “But you still did- you know what Steve, I’m sick of you shaming me, news flash I already feel guilty enough even though I shouldn’t have to!”

He dropped his head at your words as if in defeat, an exasperated breath releasing from his lips. You crossed your arms, feeling your eyes well up at the next thing you knew you had to say because you felt like you were at a breaking point.

“I think we should break up…again,”you stated, voice as steady as possible. That made him look up at you, eyebrows furrowing and brown eyes finding your serious ones. He opened his mouth to speak, to probably protest as his eyes became frantic, but you were shaking your head, "You should go, Steve."

"Wait- wait," Steve tried, head following yours as you walked toward your door, pulling it open to indicate further that you request was more like a demand. He stood up, walking toward you and said, "Can we at least talk about this more? Breaking up- I don't..."

He was in a loss of words, clearly not expecting the conversation to end this way. You tightened your jaw, moreso to fight the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes, not wanting Steve to see them. He seemed to have your same reaction, except he wasn't trying to mask it like you. His eyes were growing slightly watery as he met your pointed expression. Then, he dropped his head, causing some strands of his hair falling forward, and he sucked in a tight breath before stepping past you into your hallway.

You followed after him, sticking by the entrance to the hallway as you watched him pick up his things and leave. He did spare you another glance, heartbreak written all over his features that threatened to make you march over and hold him. You didn't do it though, holding your ground and needing him to understand how serious this was. Then, he turned and he left without another word.

He didn't even bother to put on his shoes that he kicked off by your front door, he'd just grabbed them and left the house with a soft slam of your front door.

That was when you started to cry. It wasn't intense, it wasn't angry, it was just sad. Tears just slipped down your cheeks as you went back into your room, and sat on your bed with your head in your hands.

✦ ✦ ✦

You missed Steve. Terribly. And if you were missing him, then he was missing you too.

It had only been a few days, close to a week since you brought your relationship to an end. And it hurt. You had felt a sort of numbness, seeing as most of the things in your home had reminded you of him. Some of his shirts were still there, sitting in a drawer in your bedroom (And he had some of yours too), photographs you've taken together, gifts, and your favorite...notes he had given you still pinned up on your mirror like you were still a high schooler in love.

It wasn't like your prior break-up, which was insanely messier and made you more angry than the melancholic feeling that was there to stay heavy in your chest.

The truth was, you desperately loved Steve, and everything about him. You didn't want it to end like this, you didn't want it to all come to an end because of something like this. You and him...you had been through too much to let this situation that could be fixed ruin your relationship. You wanted him back, badly, but you weren't entirely sure on how to tell him that, feeling stupid crawling back to him after you were the one who broke it off.

Then again, he had come back to you. You decided, after another day of post break-up depression that you weren't going to let him go, or at least not let it end this way that left a bad taste in your mouth and your stomach in knots. You had to at least try and hope Steve wants to too.

Steve hadn't expected to see you coming into the Family Video Store. He himself had been in shambles, still in quite disbelief that you ended it with him. He had hardly been getting sleep, everyone around him had pointed out, especially Robin whom he told about what happened the very next day.

She was also in shock to hear it, but after Steve had told her why, Robin seemed to understand completely why you had...and Steve did too. He'd been beating himself over it for days now, like he knew the things he was saying were stupid and mean, and unfair because you were broken up when it happened, but it's like something takes over him whenever it catches the opportunity to remind you of it. He hated it. He hated it when he said them, he hated it when you would frown at him and become visibly hurt. And yet, he couldn't help it.

Very clearly his behavior from coming from a broken heart, perhaps one that hadn't quite healed since his relationship with Nancy.

Not that he still loved her, no, that was long gone...long over, but the aftermath still affected him in a way he didn't expect it to. In a way that didn't show itself until recently when he saw you and Timothy Taylor kissing in that theater when he wanted to talk you about your relationship, which was stupidly stopping him from seeking you out right now...afraid he'd see that again. He hated his brain sometimes.

So, it was a surprise, a relief even, when he heard the door open and lifted his head to see it was you. He stopped stacking videos almost instantly.

You looked breathless, and tired too, but more importantly, you looked determined, especially when your eyes found his. His heart practically swelled up in his chest as you approached him with urgency in your step.

"Steve-"

He said your name at the same time you said his, the tone of both your voices breathless and colliding with one another. You just stared at each other afterwards, as if unsure who should speak first. Steve did, just as you opened your mouth again to speak.

"I miss you," he said, then shut his mouth quickly, embarrassed because what if you'd just come to tell him to pick his stuff from your house? And to ask for your stuff back as well? He just blurted it out, and swallowed thickly, feeling his cheeks heat up and turn red.

But then, you had said you missed him too.

And as Steve stood there, still processing that you had told him it back, you were walking around the center counter of the video store and joining him behind it. When you were close enough, you said, "I don't want to be broken up, okay? I know I broke it off, and I probably sound stupid-"

"No!" Steve quickly said, shaking his head, "No, no you don't sound stupid."

He wanted to tell you so many things, wanted to bare his soul to you in the way he should've instead of making those stupid, snide comments whenever given the chance. He wanted to tell you how he actually felt about the kiss and why he felt that way, because then you could talk and properly get passed it. Like what you had thought, you and him had been through so much, like surviving three separate attacks from interdimensional creatures who wanted you for their next meal, to let something like this destroy your relationship.

Before he could get the chance to, not caring that you were in the middle of the video store where a group of girls just waltz in making it almost full, not caring that they would hear him confide in you this like he wanted to, like he should've the day you ended things with him, you were speaking.

“I have an idea, okay? If we can't get past this... just kiss some other girl, I won’t be mad I swear,” you said, making Steve's brows furrow with confusion, “We’re broken up right now, everyone knows it so I can’t be mad. So just…kiss any girl you want.”

You were gesturing around the store and all Steve could do was stare at you. You wanted him to kiss another girl? He was not expecting that to come out of your mouth, not at all, and he was genuinely taken back by this.

“Are you…are you serious?” Steve asked more out of shock than excitement, which your saddened expression made him think you mistook it for excitement to kiss somebody else.

You nodded sadly before you sucked in a breath, and said in a bleak tone, as if wanting to sound unbothered, “Any girl okay? In this store, in this town. Anyone.”

He blinked, still in disbelief that you’d just said that and he absentmindedly did look around the video store, eyes finding the group of girls that were around both of your ages that had just entered the video store. Two of them had looked over at him, flashing him flirtatious smiles as they must've heard you.

He pressed his lips together, and looked back at you. You weren’t looking at him anymore, your gaze set at the girls as well after following his quick glance. You were very clearly bothered as you more than likely wondered which one he had chosen in the span of the 3 seconds he'd been looking at them.

Steve shook his head before he was reaching forward, gently grasping your chin and making you turn your head to him. Before you could react, before you could even really make eye contact with him, Steve was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

He felt you go still against his lips as he kissed you softly, fingers still holding your chin upward. After a few seconds, Steve was leaning away and said with a smile on lips in the softest his voice had ever been, "I choose you."

You were visibly taken back by this, looking up at him as your eyes began to shine.

In fact, your heart was actually fluttering in your chest, body once overcome with melancholy turned into nothing but pure warmth for Steve. You hadn't expected it to to this way, you’re mind overcome with heartbreak convincing you this would be the only way to rekindle your relationship.

That didn't matter anymore though, because Steve had chose to kiss you and you wanted to melt on the spot. It felt very similar to how it felt when your friend Steve had kissed you for the first time and you became something more. His brown stare just as intense underneath his thick lashes, but there was something stronger underlying them. You don’t know why you expected him to kiss another girl because despite everything, you were always aware that Steve desperately loved you too...as if you ever should've doubted it.

It was a nice reminder too that Steve Harrington still had his overtly romantic charm to him, and it was all you found yourself commenting about with a blissful smile growing on your lips.

"That...that was so romantic," you said, voice still breathless but this time because he had taken your breath away. Steve chuckled softly, eyes flickering downward to look at the smile on yours lip, having missed seeing it these past days since your break-up.

"I mean it," he told you, moving his hand to gently cup your cheek, his eyes growing serious, "I choose you."

And you knew, even if he hadn't of kissed you, that he meant it. You nodded, and told him that you would always choose him too.

Then, it was you who was kissing him, pressing your lips tenderly against his the way you always did, but there was a sort of desperateness behind it fueled by being apart. Steve kissed you back with just as much intensity, like you were in private and not in the middle of his job. This time you did melt into his lips and arms.

The two girls Steve had initially glanced at turned away with frown on their lips, a handful gave a double take as if they were aghast by such a sight, and a man holding some tapes had rolled his eyes and knocked on the counter impatiently.

Steve opened one eye, lips still connected to yours, and he leaned away as he told him he was on break. You laughed, and pulled his lips back to yours with little care of the audience. The man left after that, tossing the tapes aside and you were quite sure that Steve was probably going to get a stern talking to by Keith about PDA in the workplace.

And you two would talk as well, Steve would tell you what he wanted to before, and you would listen and talk through it with him. Because that's what people in love should do when things get hard, especially if they don't want to let the other go.

#shorter imagine than usual 👍🏼#obvs their relationship is more romantic and better than who the scene is based on guys #all his beauty marks 🥺😩#no summary we die like men #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #reader insert #female reader #stranger things imagine #lys writes again #stranger things

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wewebaggit · 10 months

Text

The Big Byler Theory

This might not be well structured but I will try not to be all over the place and keep it as short as possible. So here goes.

How it's gone so far

First and foremost, Mike's got to earn it. He has been a bit of a bitch and an asshole and has not yet learned the art of apologising. The show and Mike rest on Will's enthusiasm to forgive and forget to make it seem like all's fine and dandy. Mike hasn't apologised for his homophobic remark in season 3 and neither has he apologised for repeatedly ignoring Will. (season 4 apology was lame sowie) Mike has to learn to make amends (not just with Will) and take responsibility for his words. You can't just be the heart and then simultaneously be the asshole.

Will on the other hand needs to get to a point where he "doesn't hate himself" or at least makes major improvement in his self worth. His arc can't be about realising that he's deserving of Mike's love. But love in general.

Van Scene/Garage Scene aka Byler create a Scene

People talk about how Mike doesn't make him feel like a mistake at all and apply it to Mike making him feel like he's okay/better for being gay. NO. Mike's love and friendship makes him better for being different. Different in the way he's small and shy and easily intimidated but better cuz he feels like he can voice his opinions in front of Mike. Different in the way that his clothes are colourful, he draws and is artsy and sensitive and has been regularly bullied for those qualities even by his own father but better cuz Mike plasters his art everywhere. Different in the way that his songs are "stupid" or not Kenny Rogers but better cuz he can sing them around Mike anyway. Different in the way that he was possessed by a netherworldly entity and used as a spy but better cuz Mike made him their super spy. Different in how he was alone on the swings and Mike walked up to him and asked him to be his friend and it was the best thing he ever did. Different in the way he feels not everyone understands him but better cuz Mike does and would be gladly go crazy together with him. Different in how he is usually treatedlike a baby, like a freak but better cuz Mike doesn't treat him differently at all.

But that does not give Mike a pass. The 2020fication of the 80s or the post-homophobiafication of humanity in general has made people excuse homophobia just because it came from a gay guy. People need to realise that just because you suspect someone to be homophobic, you don't just cut them out of your life. Many do. Many don't. There's militant homophobia and then there's the hate the sin not the sinner homophobia. And everything in between. So Will regardless of what he thinks about Mike's homophobia is not just gonna dump his ass. As far as Will knows Mike's just straight. He does not have Tumblr perspective. Heck he has lesser than casual viewer perspective. So his gayness is still definitely something Mike doesn't make him feel better about. Cuz Mike doesn't even know for one. And Mike is just rubbing his relationship in his face even if it's not about being homophobic but just a bad friend. (In Will's POV)

And no. This is not to call Mike the devil's spawn. But to say that an express apology is fundamental to his own arc. Because to apologise to Will he must first forgive himself for wanting what he wants.

I resent the idea that Mike is aware of AND willing to explore his feelings for Will but ONLY stops himself because he loves El so so much and doesn't want to lose her. Makes no sense. She hasn't really been sending him any signals of wanting to chuck him out of her life.

Mike's arc is about conformism. And it is because he's someone who can successfully do it without being "clocked". He isn't scared to lose her. He is scared to lose his shield. He's scared to face his "difference" cuz if he doesn't have a girlfriend he is only a boy who doesn't really want girlfriends and honestly can't get girlfriends.

And again that's not a commentary on his frog face or inability to rizz up or whatever the kids are calling it these days. It is his canon inability to know anything about dating a girl. Something that is very instinctual. (Confusion over how to get back El vs just knowing to go after Will). He keeps looking up to Lucas who's by no means an expert since that's his first relationship too. But my boy Sinclair has his hetero instincts with him. Puberty slapped Mike hard and he is now not only aware that he's attracted to boys but also that he's not attracted to girls.

It's his defensiveness and self-hate that made him lash out at Will. Was he projecting? Yes. But was he really remorseful? No. Because he intended to say what he did. That's what people do when they're defensive. Cuz it was an entirely disproportionate response to "some stupid girl". Also a hetero would know bros before hoes. (ik shit) But he completely cuts off his bros? Ya. So so straight. As seen with Lucas not finding it hard to find a balance. (It's been like this all summer - Lucas Sinclair himself said it).

So what does it mean for Byler? (That is so horribly underdeveloped LMAO I can't even bt that's for a different day).

How it should go moving forward (I feel/hope/pray/manifest)

Well, the timing of it could be anything. But that painting is gonna be brought up. And it is going to be messy. I know people want Mike to be sad and not angry, but sad and angry is just so much better and makes sense. There is a fight. Because neither are ready to lay it all out in the open. You don't suddenly gain that confidence. I hope they're separated after. If it is because of avoidance, different team ups, or both. Doesn't matter. They both need time with their thoughts and the time being spent thinking about their own selves. This growth may be through convos with their loved ones and some other self reflective moments. I think that Mike's gonna get a coming out scene most probably with Karen. Will might get a scene like the one he already got in SBP with Jonathan but maybe with Joyce. (I hope she needs to make a comeback as a mother.) It could be a private moment or a Byers family moment. I don't want a party coming out. I want the boys to share this with the people that are closest to them and their fiercest supporters and rocks. Karen for Mike and Joyce n Jonatan for Will. Also, I think it's Mike who's gonna HAVE TO expressly say it while Will's could go either way. This is cuz of the differences in their circumstances - in/visible gayness.

How do they get together? Well believe it or not, a lot of unnecessary supernatural and sci-fi plot shit is crammed in (bullshit right?) and maybe they're now more okay being around each other cuz their deepest fears have been mostly assuaged. They don't feel alone with their truth and therefore, their place in the world does not rest on the reciprocity of their feelings. Imagine not HAVING to need each other but CHOOSING to. Cuz they just really really really want it. And it would make them happy. How they pursue each other is by not hiding. Nothing too brave I feel. Just being themselves. The vibes will carry. How THE getting together scene goes - I don't know. Surprise me, honestly. But for all the shit treatment their storyline has gotten so far I want s5 to fix it so well that WHEN it happens we all go crazy together! 💙💛

#I delivered on the not well structured but fumbled on the keep it short........oops #also Will doesn't just hate himself cuz GAY bt the exploration of the other facets of his self hatred are not relevant HERE #i usually re-read what I write bt not this time so sorry for any mistakes.... by all means point and laugh #actually did re-read cuz wtf happened #byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #wewe's opinionions

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leclerced · 4 months

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okok I’ve been pondering ever since the idea of the Charles au came about and now that more details have been thrown out there I’d love to share my thoughts about the origin of teammate!reader and Charles’ relationship!!

so I was thinking instead of the enemies to lovers trope I would love to see Charles absolutely obsessed with reader like takes his breath away head over heels as soon as he meets her in person for the first time. he’s been following her career from afar throughout f3 and f2 and always admired her talent and adored the fact that she looked drop dead gorgeous straight out of the car, like even if her hair was a tangled mess after a race it just worked for her, she had effortless beauty. and she was such a sweetheart and her media skills were top tier, so sponsors loved her and lots of teams were vying for her attention after she won the f2 wdc. so when the Ferrari seat opened up, Charles was secretly hoping his team would go after her so they could race alongside each other and work together to bring the constructor’s championship back home. he knew with the combination of his experience and her raw talent and spirit, they would make an amazing team! (and selfishly, Charles wanted her all to himself so one of the other drivers didn’t get the chance to charm her first)

so when they meet for the first time after Ferrari signed her he’s all smiley and heart eyes and stumbling over his words and reader is amused, sensing he was going to hit on her but he respected her too much to make a move right away. but little does Charles know, reader is starved for male attention and desperate to have some fun upon her arrival up to the big leagues of f1. she’s gotten a lot of negative attention in the past from sexist fans and dickhead drivers who felt threatened by their female rival so she didn’t get as much action as one might think. reader tries everything to get Charles to crack, purposefully wearing her skimpiest outfits to team events and dinners and taking every little opportunity to touch him or brush up against him, trying desperately to get his attention in the way she craves. one night they find themselves sitting across from each other at a crowded charity gala and she can’t focus on anything but the beautiful man in front of her, constantly catching herself zoning out and staring at his hands, imagining what they could do between her legs, his ringed fingers glistening with her arousal pumping in and out of her while his thumb toyed with her clit. she has to bite her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud, and Charles is just looking at her all confused, oblivious to her filthy thoughts about him. after one too many drinks, reader gets a lil too flirty and plops herself down next to Charles, giggling and twirling her hair and gazing up at him with the most obvious “fuck me” eyes she can manage. Charles gets all blushy under her gaze and tries not to read into it to avoid getting his hopes up but finally gets the hint when reader’s hand ends up in his lap, softly rubbing his thigh and he can’t help the dumb smile that spreads across his face as he meets her eyes and realizes the beautiful girl wants him back. they down a few more drinks to shake away their nerves and first-time jitters and make some lame excuse to leave the event so they can get out of there as fast as possible and spend the whole night fucking each other’s brains out, opening up a whole new world of opportunities to their relationship as teammates 😌 after that night they jump at every chance to get their hands on each other, I’m talking fucking all night after wins and double podiums, using each other’s bodies when one of them has a bad race, hooking up in their driver rooms between quali sessions, spending days/weeks off holed up in hotel rooms together so no one catches onto their budding romance, the possibilities are ENDLESS

I got a lil carried away sorry this is so long AKWJNENDJFJ but please feel free to add on to the brainrot or make suggestions!!! your opinion means everything and I know this is a safe space to share rambles and blurbs so I figured I’d try my best 🫶🏼

ugh no i love this sooooooo much i could cry!!! i want this. thx for the bedtime fantasy im going to sleep now!!

charles being SO oblivious to her wanting him and he wants to be respectful and isn’t going to come onto her bc he’s sure everyone does and he doesn’t want to be like that. she’s thinking she’s going to have to spell it out for him and he doesn’t pick up on her flirting and then she puts her hand on his thigh and she watches the realization hit him as he looks from her hand to her face. neither of them acknowledge it past the look he gives her, he just picks up where he left off on his sentence and they keep drinking until they see another member of their team leave so they deem it socially acceptable to leave too. they'd be so desperate to get their hands on each other but have to wait until they're back in one of their hotel rooms. i can def imagine charles saying he's been dreaming ab her for months while they're walking to his room and she gets a little annoyed and says, "are you kidding me? i've flirted with you all season why didn't you do something?" he feels so dumb as he starts thinking ab all their interactions and how she found a reason to touch him or make a sex joke out of nothing, or he'd hear her say oops and look over to catch a peek of her panties as she bends over. he admits he just thought she was being friendly, and mentions the panties and she admits that was also on purpose, she wanted to get a reaction out of him but he didn't do anything. he tells her he didn't know it was on purpose, that she touches everyone's arms and hugs everyone so he didn't think anything of her being touchy with him. anything that she did, he somehow explained it away as it just being her personality or him misreading the moment.

as soon as they're within the confines of his room, the conversation is forgotten and he's rushing to get his hands on her. he'd be cute and hold the door open for her and say "ladies first" while extending his arm into the room. as soon as she walks through the door, he shuts it, grabs her arm and jerks her back against the door and kisses her. the roughness stuns her and she's grabbing onto him to stabilize herself as he kisses her stupid and she's thinking, god if he kisses this good what else is he good at? and it's only five minutes max before he's sinking to his knees and hitching one of her thighs up on his shoulder.

can def see them constantly texting each other to meet in each other’s driver’s room after press conferences or races. exchanging hotel room cards in each city they go to and agreeing to go out celebrating after the race with the team and then meet in one of their rooms. texting during debriefs under the table wondering who’s room they’re going to.

their little summer break is spent holed up in charles’s apartment in monaco, he has groceries delivered so they don’t have to leave and it’s days full of him teaching her how to cook and play piano and speak french, but it’s mostly all the dirty words because he wants her to know what he’s saying when he starts blabbering in french about how good her pussy is. she’s constantly blushing and looking away from him when he’s teaching her new words and phrases, pressing her thighs together. he teases her for getting worked up while he tries to teach her french, and she says, “well i wouldn’t be so worked up if you weren’t talking about eating me out. like i dunno teach me how to introduce myself.”

#ask #anon #save

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tmntxthings · 2 years

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Hiii! Amazing person on the screen

I was wondering if you could do a Rise!Raph or. Rise!Leo x reader where They are in a secret relationship and Reader Gets into trouble, ie. Kidnapped, Extremely hurt, Ect.

Your Protector

author’s note: hiiiii c: (the gif gives it away but) i decided to go with our super protective turtle… you guessed it ~ Raphael ~ i hope you enjoy!! thank you for requesting:D

warnings: angst, violence, cursing, hurt/comfort, established relationship, fluff,

—————————————————————————

“Hey! This is Y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now but leave a message and I’ll get back to you~” *beep*

“Hey it’s me, just wanted to let ya know I’m heading that way! Got popcorn and a couple other snacks, ten minutes tops, alright see ya soon,” *click*

Raph had been running late for movie night but it was to be expected, his brothers were getting very suspicious of his ‘late night patrols’ that he wanted to do by himself, alone. He probably should’ve used different wording because they all knew Raph hated to be alone. He sighed, as Mikey said “you sure Raph? Cuz I can come!” smiling up at him, happy to go out.

“Sorry Mikey not this time,” Raph couldn’t even think up an excuse. Just had to straight up say no. The look on Mikey’s face might as well had been a slap to Raph’s, “next time!” Raph promised, “I’ve just got some things on my mind..” Mikey nodded with a weak smile, “Okay well be careful and call if you need us!” Raph had given him a couple pats on the head. Mikey was such a sweet little brother. Donnie and Leo on the other hand weren’t buying Raph’s lies.

They’d give him dirty looks and roll their eyes at any lame excuse Raph could think of. “Surrre Raphie, have fun~” Leo would holler over his shoulder, Donnie would look up from his phone, “K” was the most the purple twin would manage, Raph had a feeling Donnie already knew where he was going, location wise at least. He knew all their phones had trackers on them.

Raph wondered how much longer he could keep up such a secret. He resolved to talk to you about it maybe after the first movie or two. When he landed on your roof, he checked his bag, popcorn:check, candy:check, movies:check, he was ready! As he used the fire escape to reach your window he smiled, you must’ve got his message because the window was wide open. “Ready for some-“ Raph had been ducking into your room when he stopped mid sentence.

His heart dropped into his stomach as his eyes widened in fear. “Y/n???” He called out looking around your wrecked room. Furniture was pushed around, knickknacks in pieces on the ground, he drew his weapons. Raph was breathing deeply, trying to stay calm, he didn’t see any blood, and you weren’t here. The bathroom empty, your room a mess, the kitchen/living area empty as well. It was like whoever it was came through the window, tousled around in your bedroom, and nowhere else.

Raph came back into your bedroom. Putting his weapons away now that he knew the place was clear. He was just about to call his brothers when he noticed a piece of crumpled paper on your bedding. In a crude and rushed handwriting it read ‘call # if you want to see them again.’

Raph had to force himself not to crush the piece of paper in his fist. He blew out a breath, so this was a kidnapping and they knew about your relationship. This just kept getting worse. But Raph couldn’t let himself start falling into the rabbit hole of guilt just yet, he had to save you. He quickly punched in the numbers on his phone and waited, “please” he murmured to himself. Don’t let them be hurt. Don’t be in pain.

He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you were hurt because of him. “H-hello?” Raph’s heart leapt in his throat, “Y/n? Baby? Are you okay?” He hadn’t been expecting to hear your voice. You sounded so scared and he heard you whimper into the phone, “Raph-“ and then silence as if the phone was put on mute. “Hello?? Y/N???” Oh the things Raph would do, whoever this was who was toying with him, and putting you at risk like this. “That’s enough of that,” a cold voice said into the device.

“You know we have them, so-“

“If you hurt so much as one hair on their head, you will be sorry!” Raph roared into the phone, cutting off the villain and wishing they were in front of him right now. A muffled chuckle could be heard and Raph gritted his teeth. “I guess you don’t want to know where to find them?” Raph sighed, if Donnie was here he’d probably have your location by now. “Tell me.” Raph gritted out, “yes well as I was trying to say, you will find them at Albearto’s abandoned fun land.”

Without any other information the phone call ended. Raph was on the move, he didn’t have any time to waste. He was really really considering calling his brothers, this was definitely a trap, set up for him, would they expect his brothers too? But Raph didn’t want to put anyone else in danger, you were already at stake here, what if by calling his siblings, he was putting more people he cared about in harms way. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he couldn’t, ever since he had stepped foot into your room his mind was a jumbled mess of get. them. back. So that’s what he was gonna do.

“You’re speaking to the Othello Von Ryan,” was the answer Raph got as he sped dialed Donnie.

“Donnie!” Raph heaved into the phone, still running and jumping from rooftop to rooftop trying to get to Albearto’s as fast as he could. “That’s me,” Donnie quipped not noticing his older brother’s tone. “If I’m not back in an hour I need you to come find me. I’m heading to Albearto Land, someone.. someone’s in trouble,”

“And why should I wait an hour?” Donnie said his voice gone serious. “Because, I don’t want to put you guys in danger unless absolutely necessary,” Raph said and then added, “promise Don, for Mikey’s sake.” The other line was quiet, “that’s not fair Raph,”

“Fine 30 minutes Donnie, just- I gotta go,” Raph hung up the phone as he approached the archways to Albearto’s. It was very much the way the turtles had left it. Broken robots everywhere, from tearing their own circuits out. It was creepy. Raph knew that as soon as he called Donnie he was calling for them all, they’d be here as soon as they could, time limits be damned. So Raph had to do this quickly.

It was like a sick joke, because as he ninja stealthed his way around the tents and the abandoned rides he could see you, on the stage where his brothers had their ‘first gig.’ Your hands were bound behind your back and as he neared he could see tape over your mouth. You were sitting legs underneath you at the center of the stage, it was dark and you looked to be alone. Raph knew it was too easy, but he couldn’t help himself from running straight to you. The closer he got he saw how you hadn’t noticed him yet, head slumped downwards but as his footfalls came closer you jerked your head upright. Eyes opening wide and you shook your head furiously back and forth nonverbally saying ‘no!’

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you outta here,” Raph promised as he jumped on stage. He approached you swiftly and just as he was about to touch you, you were yanked back into the darkness, disappearing completely behind the stage curtains. He hadn’t noticed the rope extending from behind your back. A muffled scream came from underneath your tape, eyes wide with fear then you were gone again. Raph had chased right after you, traps be damned, “NO!” He had yelled in frustration, in anger, and in fear for whatever lied behind those curtains.

Complete darkness swallowed him, if he had heard you before he couldn’t hear anything now. “Y/n?” Raph called out, not liking this at all. He was sweating, gripping his weapons tightly. Then he had an idea, activating his power and keeping it pressed against himself like a second red skin. It provided a glow of red light for Raph to see the horror that he was unbeknownst to just seconds earlier. A giant snake yokai had you in the center of its coils and its giant mouth had opened, mere inches away from swallowing you whole.

Raph lunged forward. Punching the creature anywhere he could but he was aiming for the face that dared to try and eat you. “AGH!” It recoiled from the impact, but only tightened its grip on you. “Let. Them. Go!” Raph warned furiously, “or else there’s a whole lot more where that came from,” Raph concentrated all of his power to his fists, and they grew two times the size, glowing red. “This-s prize is-s MINE,” said the overgrown garden snake. Then it clicked, this wasn’t the same voice he had spoken with over the phone. “Where is your leader?” Raph said slowly circling the yokai to get a better attack angle, to get closer to you too. You had passed out, maybe as soon as you had went through the curtain, Raph wasn’t certain but the longer you stayed unconscious the more he worried. Could you breath? Was the snake holding you too tightly? Was it crushing you?!

Suddenly Raph didn’t care who had orchestrated the whole kidnapping he just wanted to get you out of here. So he lunged again this time using his powerful hands to pry you away from the snake. All the while dodging it’s large mouth that was now trying to swallow Raph whole. The snake hissed in anger at not being able to eat him. So it shot forward, fangs coming up and out, latching onto one of Raph’s shoulders. It wasn’t a garden snake Raph thought as he felt venom being pushed into his blood stream. He yelled in anguish and used all of his remaining strength in his other arm to knock the snake on the side of the head.

The snake retracted it’s fangs and went limp to the ground. “Fuck,” Raph gasped as two gaping holes in his arm started leaking not blood but black venom. He felt woozy as he moved towards you, his vision going blurry, “No! Y/n,” he cried out not wanting to go down like this, he hadn’t saved you yet! He reached out with his good arm, before he fell to the ground a couple feet away from you. Raph’s body was growing cold, he was losing all feeling as he started crying out in frustration, where were his brothers? That was the last thought he had before he went unconscious.

When Raph woke up, he had four heads peering down at him. He groaned, his shoulder was on fire. “Where-“ he said trying to move, then his eyes shot open, he had to get to you! “Relax! You’re at the lair!” Six hands came down holding Raph in place. “You don’t understand Donnie, I have to get to-“

“I’m here Raph,” your voice was laced with concern, finally his eyes came into focus. He had known who three of those heads belonged to, he had assumed April was the fourth. He slumped back into whatever he was lying on, a patient’s bed/table? He didn’t want to think too hard right now. “Thank god,” Raph said, “Are you okay?” He hadn’t been able to assess if you had wounds during the fight. “I’m fine, it’s you who I’m worried about!” You weren’t in tiptop shape, you had darkening bruises around your stomach where the snake’s body had wrapped, and a concussion from being knocked out on the way to Albearto’s. But you weren’t about to worry Raph who had just barely survived the poison that had been injected into him.

“Yeah, Raph you quite literally almost DIED.” Leo hollered. He was so pissed. “Well..” Donnie had started to say, Raph probably could’ve held out for maybe a day unconscious with the venom in his blood stream, maybe, but he decided not to correct his blue twin at the moment, he too was angry at Raph. “We fight together Raph, we’re a team!” Mikey said holding onto his brother’s good arm. Donnie had informed them all that he wouldn’t be able to feel anything in the infected one for a couple of weeks. “I’m sorry,” Raph said looking up at the ceiling because he knew he’d cry if he looked any of his brothers in the eyes right now.

“I thought I had it under control,” he heard Leo sigh. “Let’s promise to never have this happen again. When we fight we do it together. We’re stronger as a team,” Leo sounded so much like a leader that Raph couldn’t help the small smile, “I promise,” his voice was thick with emotion. The room emptied out a while after that, Donnie was the last to go checking his older brother’s vitals one more time. “Call me if he needs anything,” Donnie said to you and you nodded, “I will,”

The two of you were alone, the only sound was the beeping of machines. You came forward, around to Raph’s good side and he felt the bed dip slightly as you sat next to him. He wanted to sit up too but as he tried a hand gently touched his plastron, he froze. “Don’t move, I’ll lay next to you,” Raph scooted over and you laid next to him like you said. Both of your faces were right next to each other and he could see a dark bruise spreading from your temple. He winced, “what’s wrong? Do I need to get Donnie,” you said looking him over as one of your hands shot out to cradle his cheek. He leaned into your touch, shuddering and shaking his head no. It reminded him of when you had done that, back on the stage, silently trying to warn him of the danger. “God I’m so sorry Y/n” and the tears fell. “If it wasn’t for me,” he tried to catch his breath but it was like the waves of emotion he had been holding off finally crashed down upon him.

“You wouldn’t have had to go through that, I can’t say enough how sorry I am,” you wiped away his tears, letting him cry as you tried to soothe him with your hand. But when that only made him cry harder, you swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “Raph, no one knew this would happen, it’s not your fault,” his eyes hardened at that, “no it is. whoever they were, they wanted to get at me through you” his eyes shuttered close thinking back to the phone call. “Raphael look at me,” your eyes were stern, “Could you have possibly predicted this?” He shook his head, he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen that’s why he was so shaken up about it. “Then it’s not your fault, you saved me, you’re the reason I’m still here,” you nuzzled your nose to his snout.

His breath caught in his throat at the close proximity but he closed his eyes at the feeling. A slight churring sound could be heard from the back of his throat. Your hands went to the top of his shell, just behind his neck and you grazed the edges of it with your fingertips. “Y/n,” Raph shuddered slightly, he couldn’t stop himself as he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his. He didn’t press, he waited to see your reaction, you melted for him and he in turn relaxed as the two of you kissed for what felt like forever. You had to pull away for air, your eyes glowing as the both of you looked at one another. “I love you,” you whispered and his heart soared, “I love you too,” Raph snuggled his face into your neck. He was so happy, he was so tired, and he fell asleep to the thought that he was going to protect you. You wouldn’t go through this again, he swore. He’d protect you just like he had, lay his life on the line. He’d do it all over again if it meant he could feel your warmth, and hear those words. He would protect you.

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positivelybeastly · 3 months

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What would Hank do if his reputation was ruined?

"Invest in a long, heavy coat, and find somewhere quiet to live, I suppose. Perhaps I could go to my parents' farm, help them out. I can't say I ever thought my life would ever be uneventful again, but if that's to be my penance, then . . ."

I mean, it depends on what that reputation is, honestly. Even when he was being raked over the coals for the Inhumans stuff, or the time travel debacle, he was still widely accepted in the superhero community as an intellectual force and someone to be trusted - that's the advantage of having worked with so many people and been known as such a hard working, good hearted individual, it takes a lot to irrevocably ruin that rep. So, we'll assume it's the reputation he would have if X-Force shenanigans came to light.

If it's X-Force Beast who has to own what he did, I think that anything less than lifetime imprisonment or just straight up getting shanked by Wolverine or having his brain turned off by a telepath doesn't really make sense. He's done too much and there's no real reason to spare him since he's too far gone now to come back. Assuming that doesn't happen, though?

X-Force Beast wouldn't care about his reputation - for whatever reason, Percy's version of Beast is a super genius intelligence director who is literally incapable of being diplomatic or genuinely deceptive, he's always super obvious about what he's doing and incapable of playing the charm game anymore.

He probably relishes in that reputation a little bit, since he's either living in Krakoa under diplomatic immunity or already on the run, and he hates everything in existence too much to truly care that he's broken a good few hearts by doing what he's done.

It's one of the reasons the villain turn is super lame, there's no real emotional stake in it for either side of the equation. No-one cares. No-one gives a fuck. There's 'betrayal' in maybe, like, three panels (and I mean panels, not pages) - Percy wanted to have his cake of everyone hating Beast from moment one, and eat it too by having everyone be like, well, we always knew he was shady.

Everyone throttles to angry rather than betrayed or heartbroken, no-one seems to have ever believed that Hank was a good guy, so everyone's just, like, anaesthetised, oh, we always knew he was shady!

If you supposedly knew he was shady, why the fuck did you give him the position, dipfucks?

But resurrected Beast . . . well, honestly, he kinda would and wouldn't care, but for very different reasons.

On the one hand, Hank cares a lot about his reputation, he's always very careful about how he speaks and how he acts and what he does and how that comes across. He's borderline obsessed with being seen as a man first and a beast second. He's also one of the most public mutants in the world, so he feels an obligation to be an ambassador for mutantkind and be a friendly face.

So if all of that got ruined? It would hurt him. Scar him. It would be a pretty deep, lacerating hit to his already weak and bloodied sense of security about himself. It would be hard for him to come back from and I don't know if he'd be able to do it on his own - he might have to go back to his parents' farm and just, find himself again, work out where to go from here, because he'd feel like his entire life plan, his entire philosophy, just . . . failed.

But he would still want to do good. Try and fix that reputation, try and make up for what he did. I doubt he'd think it would ever be enough, but I feel like he'd try, at least. People would just have to feel comfortable letting him, which is. An ask.

#vinial453 #outofmuffins #verse: I wait to wake

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demonslayedher · 2 years

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Kaburamaru's real life inspiration: Iwakuni White Snakes

Images and a video are behind a cut, you can guess what you'll find below. Might I just say I was stunned not only by how cute these snakes were, but also how legit friendly and curious they were??? I went to both the Iwakuni Shirohebi Museum, near the lovely Kintaikyo Bridge area, and Shirohebi Jinja (White Snake Shrine), which was only established in 2012 but has a longer history among various Benten shrines around the area. As you might have gathered, these albino snakes are local to the Iwakuni region, and I've gone more into their real life history and what that says about how Kaburamaru came into Iguro's life on this post. I suggest reading that first; this shall just be me fangirling about these adorable snakes. I have never felt such a connection with a reptile before, but on this day I was blessed.

Like, seriously. I loved these snakes so much. Please, come appreciate these snakes with me.

THIS CHILD IS THE REAL-LIFE KABURAMARU OF MY HEART. I LOVE THIS PARTICULAR SNAKE SO DEARLY. Let me back up a moment. This was from one of a couple of large enclosures on the grounds of the shrine, which incorporated snakes into a bunch of its design. White snakes have long been considered messengers of the god Benten, and join an array of other special white animals in Shinto lore, but they are especially beloved in this region and there are active efforts to preserve them. They are basically albino rat snakes; it's a matter of preserving the recessive trait for albinism. (And being albino, that means Kaburamaru probably didn't have great vision either.)

So right away I noticed that in the outdoor enclosure, the snakes were pretty easy to spot on the ground right away. One came closer to the edge as we came by, but so close that I couldn't see its face, so I was like, "yup, that is a snake" and went on with my shrine visit. I'm going to take a moment here to say that although the museum had some charming displays about the Edo period discovery of the white snakes in rice storehouses and about the life cycles and anatomy of snakes, I enjoyed the shrine more, though there were also snakes at the museum who were pretty aware of humans too. Like this eight month old baby, "Love-chan." (The babies' scales are thinner, so they appear more reddish because you get more of the red of their insides showing through.)

Also at the museum, we interrupted this couple while they were busy. The two veterinarians who accompanied me provided analysis which is unnecessary to repeat here.

By all rights, Kaburamaru probably would had preferred to be hibernating at the time they battled Muzan. He's such a trooper. So anyway, back at the shrine, they had an area on the opposite side from the main worship hall which you could enter for 100 yen, and they had a collected of white snake related treasures and goods there (similar to how the boar shrine in Kyoto had Inosuke merch among all the boar stuff), as snake figures have often been a symbol of good luck for making lots of money. I found three pieces of Iguro & Kaburamaru merch, including a chibi that sat in front of chests of coins, contemplating the nature of riches. (My Closet Play was lame, and it's hard to tell but both my pants and my scrunchie had black and white stripes, and I wore mismatched turquoise and yellow earrings. It may look like I am gasping at all the snake treasures, but more likely I am orating.)

So anyway. Now let me come back to my favorite snake in all of Iwakuni. This little fellow noticed me come in and came straight over to say hello.

I LOVE HIM. He had his tongue going crazy a long time while trying to check me out as best he could from the other side of the class, and when I offered my finger to him, he clearly tried to get close to it--now that I think back on it, had there not been glass, he probably would had climbed right on. What struck me most was that once he locked on my face, he locked on. He stayed totally still and we stared each other straight in the eyes, practically nose to nose for at least a solid 30-60 seconds, and this little fellow probably would had been happy to stay like that longer had I not stood up and moved on. There was a connection going on there like I have never felt from a snake, nor have I seen many other animals happy to stay still so long with a curious stare at each other.

I feel so honored. I loved him. I loved him so much.

#Kaburamaru #Iguro Obanai #kny nerdery #kny reference #kny references #tw snakes #tw snake #tw: snake #tw: snakes #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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banisheed · 1 year

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I Write Sins and Tragedies || Siobhan & Metzli

TIMING: A few nights ago LOCATION: MuertArte PARTIES: Siobhan and Metzli SUMMARY: Siobhan visits MuertArte on invitation and with the promise of wine. Things don't turn out as planned and art is the last thing on anyone's mind. CONTENT: Emotional abuse (discussion), Physical abuse (discussion), Torture (discussion, description), Decapitation (post-mortem), Alcohol use (as an unhealthy coping technique)

Siobhan didn’t know what to think; she didn’t come to Wicked’s Rest to make friends or enjoy galleries or talk to very sad strangers on the internet. And yet, she wasn’t any closer to her goal and the boredom was starting to claw at her, like an animal trapped under her skin. She bounced with that energy as she moved through the streets. Dressed as she usually was--covered from neck to toe in designer labels she didn’t quite understand--she felt out of place among the bustle of people crowding through downtown on a saturday night. Fortunately for the banshee, when it came to humans, out of place was exactly how she liked to feel. MuertArte felt just as out of place; a renovated building among the masses of crumbling stone. Siobhan stepped up to the door, knocking at first with hesitation. Right, this was a public establishment. She didn’t need to do that. She pushed the doors in and called out. “Metzli?” Should she have mentioned that she’d never been to a gallery before? She called out again, a little louder, letting her voice carry across the space--a display of vocal control that would make any banshee jealous. Unfortunately, none ever seemed to be very jealous of Siobhan. “Metzli?” She called again, hovering by the door.

—

Art had a way of captivating the viewer, especially when it resonated so powerfully. For someone that felt so little most days, Metzli always felt a hint of a spark when they found a piece that said a million words with each paint stroke. It seemed so hypocritical. To proclaim to feel nothing and be nothing, and yet an image brought to life on canvas did something. They supposed it wasn’t totally wrong. As soon as the wave crashed over their chest, it receded just as quickly. Like a wave on the beach’s shore. Metzli could never figure out how to make it stay, and they thought that was fine. Feeling nothing and being nothing was happiness. Or so they were told.

“Hm?” Metzli arched a brow at the sound of their name, rising from their desk quickly. Checking their watch, they could see it was just past noon. Around the time that their host went to lunch. They were usually much better about keeping time, but with the abundance of success, the amount of art that came in left Metzli’s hands full. Quickly, they marched to MuertArte’s entrance, prepared to give their best introduction. “My apologies, ma’am.” They bowed their head, adjusting their tie. “Welcome to MuertArte. You called for me by my name. Are you wishing to display or have a tour?” When they stood straight once again, Metzli’s head tilted curiously, almost ominously, but not by choice. As much as they wanted to appear friendly to patrons, they just couldn’t get the hang of facial expressions.

—

Siobhan starred. She didn’t mean to but as an observer by birthright she had a habit of digesting the world through long, silent stretches of time. She noticed three things. The first: Metzli was tall. Second: Metzli had an accent. And finally: Metzli was dead. That much came to her in the telltale trickle down her back and the tug in her slow heart, pulling her towards the earth as if to join the bodies there. And, yes, there was the arm too, but she’d been expecting the arm. Metzli being undead was a surprise. “It’s me,” she pointed lamely at herself. “Siobhan, from online?” She couldn’t be sure how much she might be understood, her Irish accent wasn’t as thick as it used to be but it was still the most notable part about her—other than the obvious beauty. “You said to come? I’m sorry I…” She paused. The thing about the undead wasn’t so much that they were dead—that was the good part—it was the moving that was upsetting. The blinking, the tilting of the head. At least Metzli seemed largely unemotive; Siobhan had a hard time stomaching being smiled at by a perversion of the natural order. She forced herself to smile instead. “I’ve never been to a gallery,” she said, stepping closer. “I grew up in a time and place where art was just on the streets or in the homes.” Was actually several human heads on a stick arranged into the vague shape of a curvaceous woman. “You mentioned something about showing me around? And beer? And wine?” Now she’d really need both.

—

“Siobhan…” Metzli parroted the name back to its owner, nodding slowly. “Yes, I remember you. You are beautiful.” And she was. Her skin looked as smooth as stone, and she had dark hair and shiny hues. For a moment, Metzli was lost on what to say, comfortable with the silence that ended all too quickly. Siobhan had a similar lilt in her voice as Honey, but there was a deeper tone to it. Irish maybe, though they couldn’t be too sure of that. They supposed a little more talking would need to be had for answers to come.

“Yes, I show you around.” Looking to the front desk, Metzli walked around it to find the mini fridge and wine rack they kept stocked for occasions such as that one. “What would you like? For a guest like you, I can open a 1930s port.” They watched Siobhan with an empty expression, unsure what to make of her visage. She looked stiff and maybe…fearful? Though that didn’t make much sense. Metzli didn’t know Siobhan well, but she didn’t seem the type to be scared so easily.

—

“I…” Siobhan swallowed. “Yes, I am beautiful.” She gestured at Metzli’s body, feeling the compulsion to return the politeness. Yet, calling an abomination attractive would be… Siobhan swallowed again, fruitlessly working at the lump in her throat. “You’re tall,” she blurted and was instantly thankful for the change in topic. “1930s port,” she sighed. “Fates, I remember the 30s. Aye. Please. I’ll take that.” Her head throbbed and her hands twitched at her sides. She had her knife on her; she always had her knife on her. What sort of undead was Metzli? Blood, brains, nightmares or revenge? Should she go for the chest or the head? Beheading was always a safe bet, wasn’t it? Her fingers twitched again, pulling her hands into tight fists. She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me…” She looked at Metzli: their expressionless yet decidedly sad face, their lanky body, the suit. Her mind flared with what she was supposed to do; she could see it clearly as it unfolded in her imagination. Off with their head, off with their head, off with their head. “Sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t know you’d be…” She swallowed. Metzli didn’t like a liar and neither did she. She dropped her hand. “Dead.”

—

“Hmph…” Siobhan’s honesty knew no bounds, and that was refreshing enough to let their version of a chuckle escape. Metzli reached for the port glasses and poured carefully, listening to Siobhan speak. Her voice was nervous, maybe even frustrated. For what reason, they wondered? Then, the question came, sudden and urgent, as if she had already answered everything in her mind and now the truth was tumbling into her.

Somehow, she knew the person in front of her was dead. The proclamation didn’t invoke a reaction, Metzli was taught composure in tense situations such as that. Words meant nothing until actions provoked them. It was always best to remain calm until the opposing party revealed their hand. “No tell because you did not ask.” They slid the glass over the counter for Siobhan to take, grabbing their own bloody wine to pour for themself. “Dangerous to reveal, but now you know by looking at me?” Their eyes narrowed as they tipped their glass toward their mouth, pausing for a sip. “How you know? Will you tell?”

—

Siobhan took the wine gratefully, drinking it all at once. She should have stopped to savor it but her hands trembled and she needed her balm. What had the years without her aos sí done to her? Fates, she was a terrible soldier and a worse banshee; a real mess. She could turn her emotions off like a switch, she’d done it before—it was the only way she ever did it. Compartmentalize. Turn the pressure off. Siobhan tried. She slapped the glass back down a little too hard and winced at the rattle. “Sorry,” she mumbled and now she was apologizing to someone whose existence was a mistake. “How long have you been dead? Was it before or after your master?” She pictured the moments clearly in her head; all the empty walls Metzli must have stared at. Year after year. The same thing over and over again. Daytime could only be told by how sunlight burned across skin, but at some point, even that began to feel like nothing. She knew it. She’d lived it. With her back tormented by phantom aches the only thing that she ever lived for were the letters that came—first through the mail and then through her computer. Year after year. The same thing.

Something hit the back of Siobhan’s throat and she pushed her wine glass forward. “More wine,” she commanded. Something was flaring in her stomach; emotions she wouldn’t name. Her guts twisted. “I’m not human either,” she confessed in a rush. “And I live long; not proper immortal like you but…” Siobhan rolled her shoulders, emotions bubbled up and burst under her skin. She used to be good at keeping them quiet once. No, maybe she’d always been bad at it. Her mother always said she was too emotional. Perhaps she’d only ever been good at pretending she wasn’t. Siobhan shook her head. No, no, she was good at it. She was a faithful servant of Fate and a good banshee and her mother was proud of her. Yes. Yes.

Slowly, Siobhan pulled the glove off her right hand, revealing first the thick scar that ran like an equator across her palm. Then, turning her hand over, she showed off the letters that had been carved into her flesh and all the micro scars from her years of living. “I know what it’s like, at least a little bit. For years, years and years and years, to be treated like a…” No, no, there was nothing wrong with the way she had been raised. Siobhan snapped her glove back on quickly. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “You were saying?”

—

“About one-hundred-thirty years. Master turn me and forced me into clan. Be soldier for his bidding. Mindless and numb. I was thirty when I die. Village massacred.” Metzli explained, nodding and dutifully filling Siobhan’s glass to the brim. She was reeling, for some odd reason. It was too much emotion for Metzli’s liking, but they were starting to grow used to people’s reactions. At least Siobhan wasn’t human. She had that going for her. “Do not know why he chose me. Called me his favorite pet. Finally kill him last year.” The tale didn't spark any reaction, not externally. For a brief moment, something squeezed within Metzli, prompting them to sip on their wine quietly.

It was a relief when Siobhan revealed her hand, giving them something different to focus on, even if she hid it away just as quickly. Metzli looked toward the entrance, and then back to their guest, undoing the snaps and opening their shirt for their own reveal, but only the center of their torso. Their skin was painted with scars, and with no binder, so too was their clan tattoo. “We got tattoo when control was taught. Each line is ten year mark.” They sighed, snapping the buttons back. “No have to apologize. You made discovery and it gave you surprise. Is okay.”

The two were greeted with silence once Metzli finished speaking, waiting for Siobhan to respond. They liked the way she didn’t lie to them with a smile, not anymore. Not since she had entered and played her part as a polite guest. It was something Metzli could always respect. To have no fear of being oneself. How could someone not want to be? After over a century of someone preventing them the luxury, they couldn’t think of any reason to not take advantage of their new freedom.

—

Every addition to Metzli’s past slotted into Siobhan’s head like a puzzle; the picture grew with each horrible admittance and every casual explanation of horror. She could see it. She could feel it. No, no, what a terrible thing--was this empathy? Siobhan pushed the end of her palms against her eyes, trying to kill the imagined images with the explosions of color that came from the pressure. Prior to Wicked’s Rest she hadn’t so much as bothered with a conversation longer than a few minutes with anyone. She dropped her hands and stared at Metzli’s tattoo. She was supposed to get one; all Dolan’s did on their 100th year anniversary of awakening. She was cast out too early. And the scars--

Siobhan’s hands snapped up to her eyes again. There was a switch she could flip, she used to do it all the time. She just needed to find it again. Wine helped. Yes, yes, wine helped. Siobhan reached out, snapping the bottle up and bringing it to her lips. The liquid went down quickly and with ease, the way 1930s port was never meant to. She slammed the bottle back down, empty now. The switch was there somewhere; she could find it between the intervals of buzzing. “I don’t know if you realize how fucked up your life is,” she hissed. “You could write a book.” Her legs started to feel lighter; she bounced on her heels. “It’d be a bestseller.” The sensation of Metzli’s death started to blur with the orchestra of the world. “You killed him, yeah?” Her skin felt hot; the violinists were warming up, tightening their strings. “Did he suffer?” She reached out for the glass of wine that Metzli had filled as she asked, picking it up carefully. “I would hope so.” She took a slow sip. A song swelled at once through her head with the rush of blood. There was the switch.

She flipped it.

Siobhan smiled brightly, snapping into rigidly straight posture--just as her mother taught her was the correct way to stand. “You did surprise me!” She took more calculated sips of her wine. “I didn’t expect you to have so much history. Oh, but it’s not bad--” She waved a hand in the air. “Just surprising. I apologize for my display of emotion; I know, they’re annoying.” Siobhan took another sip and in a crashing wave, coldness settled into her body again. She didn’t think about how ironic it was that Metzli was trying to chase emotion while she was trying to push hers away. No, no, the thinking would ruin everything. “Sorry. Shall we move on with the tour? Pasts are such an unpleasant topic anyway. Crack on with the future, as the children say.” No child had ever said that.

—

“My life was fine for most part. Learn to fight and kill and hunt. Do not care for novel. Master will stay dead.” Whatever music played for Siobhan, it began to pick up in pace. Louder and louder, she willed it so. It was a wall of notes protecting her from the onslaught of pain that came with empathy. How funny it was that that was what the music did for her. It wasn’t a symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, meant to accompany one’s beat instead of drowning it. She didn’t want to let the emotions shout, to echo and grow powerful enough to shatter her walls of protection.

All the while, Metzli was practically begging for the composer to let the symphony start. To let it play without a resting beat so that they could truly begin again, and not just be the hollow carcass Eloy created. His little toy that he hoped to make a small version of himself. No, he would not live on. He was dead thanks to Metzli, and he would stay that way. “I make rebellion and we attack. Siblings die but we win.” They said, scanning Siobhan who was now finishing the bottle off in her cup. “He suffered. He died angry and scared when I twist head and ripped it off.” The last place he’d ever live is in their memory, his face full of fear as Metzli ripped his head off. His expression in a permanent state of terror.

They recalled the moment, their face unmoving until they spoke again. “I ran after. Many mad and wanted to hunt me, many want me to take over. I wanted to be free.” Metzli arched a brow, at last finished with their tale, and curious at the sharp change in Siobhan’s demeanor. “You are right. We move on.” It was better, if they were honest. She wasn’t emotional with her new mask of music. All the better, she was requesting the tour to begin. Metzli wouldn’t argue.

“Come then. Down this hallway.” Their hand pointed to a dark hallway, only lit by spotlights on the pieces on display. “We begin with the international exhibit. Pieces I curated from everywhere. Different periods like baroque.” Metzli circles around the desk and went first, expecting Siobhan to follow.

—

There was a tremor in Siobhan’s hands, a slight twitch as she stared at her reflection in the deep red wine. She was sure that Metzli didn’t fully appreciate at all how horrible their life was, but she knew that they knew it. When faced with a life like that, wasn’t numbness the only option? Siobhan shook her head; she was thinking again. She spent too much time inside her own head, her mother always said she did. “Have you done a painting of that?” She asked casually, maintaining her easy smile. “I think I’d love to see a rendition of you ripping your master’s head off--or anyone’s head off.” She imagined it coming off like pulling a piece of gum off from the underside of a table. Siobhan took another sip of her wine as she followed Metzli. Yes, yes, they were moving on.

Siobhan cast her earlier weakness out of her mind and forced it to stay locked in the same cupboards that housed her growing collection of mistakes. “Will you tell me where you’ve gotten these pieces from?” Siobhan asked. “I’ve only really seen European art, I never paid much attention to beauty as I traveled further.” She turned attention to the art; the cacophony of colors and texture felt like nothing to her now. It was a sad consequence of the switch but she wasn’t a muse, she could deal with not being able to appreciate art. Her momentary slip was humiliating enough, she wouldn’t risk it again.

—

Siobhan’s remark about wanting to see an image of a beheading perplexed Metzli. She had had a negative reaction to her discovery that they were dead, yet she wanted to see someone else’s death? Or was it the violence in the act that drew such a positive interest? Metzli pondered quietly, coming to a stop in front of a piece. They did still have a forger locked away in their hidden room. Whether they were dead or alive, Metzli wasn’t sure. They hadn’t checked since the night prior. For a few moments, likely too long, they entertained the idea of taking the tour elsewhere.

If Siobhan was okay with them murdering their master, then it seemed reasonable, to them, that she’d be fine with their murder room. Right? Wait, Metzli blinked, realizing they were in their head too long. “Do you want to see and learn about pieces or do you want to see a head ripped off?” Well, a possible beheading. If the man was already dead, Metzli wouldn’t desecrate a body like that post-mortem. Not unless they really had to. “Maybe. Have to see if man is dead first.”

—

Siobhan’s neck cracked as she whipped it to the side to look at Metzli. She blinked at them, thinking she hadn’t heard right. This was the wine produced wishful thinking; it happened all the time. ‘Hello, how are you’ often became ‘please kill me and take my bones’. “I’m sorry?” She blinked. Metzli didn’t look like they were joking, of course not. She wasn’t even sure Metzli could joke. “Fuck,” she exhaled with a quiver, “I would love to watch a beheading.” She really would; she always said she must have been born in the wrong millennium. By the time of her birth and completed training, public executions were not so much the fashion. Oh, to have been born during the guillotine’s prime. “Yes, very much. I would love that. Even just to see a dead body that’s not…” She gestured in Metzli’s direction, choosing to let her motion finish her sentence. “Not to offend you, but I like the dead dead ones.” She glanced back at the paintings. They were nice, but she wasn’t in the mood. A beheading, however, was just the sort of thing she was always in the mood for. She looked back at Metzli. “Please.” She gestured out. “Lead the way.”

—

Well, that didn’t take a lot of convincing, and an explanation was given. Siobhan liked both death and violence, but only if the dead stay dead. Metzli could respect that. They weren’t supposed to come back to life. Existing meant that they broke several laws of nature, bending it to the will of the bite. For a moment, as they guided their guest to their secret room, they wondered if that was the reason why Siobhan reacted so negatively.

Metzli’s heart was no longer beating, yet they continued on as if it was, unlocking a door and revealing a body on the ground in a room with the thermostat as low as it could go. She had a right to her beliefs, and in kind, Metzli would respect them. “Hmph…” They knelt on the ground, checking for a pulse. “Already dead.” Pools of blood and spatter painted the room, thick and coagulated from exposure to the air. An array of lacerations littered the man’s body, the knife only feet away on a metal table. “Thought he last longer, but…” Metzli stood up, stepping back, “Too weak I guess.”

—

Siobhan should have known that when she didn’t have to swallow a scream, there wouldn’t be any fun murder. Still, she had hoped for it. And still, she felt disappointed. “Oh,” she frowned, staring at the dead body. It was a fine display of blood loss; she could do better though. Siobhan stepped forward, kneeling beside Metzli. She didn’t question the purpose this room had--the cold didn’t bother her corpse-like body and if she hadn’t been taught how to cover her tracks by her strict mother, she’d probably have a murder room too. Siobhan looked at the blood on the walls and the knife on the metal table. “Nice handiwork,” she praised, still confident she could do better. She turned her attention back to the body. “What are you going to do with it?” She paused. “Can I have a bone?”

—

“Was going to feed body to my friend. She gets rid of evidence for me.” Metzli pulled their hand away from the man’s neck, tongue dragging over their fangs. They hadn’t even noticed that they extended, too lost in the moment of revealing one of their best kept secrets. “She usually eats everything—even the bones, but I will tell her to leave a few out. Which one do you want?” Eyes lingered over Siobhan, wondering for a moment–again–at what she was.

She was long-living, but not immortal. Has the ability to sense the undead by just walking into the room. These abilities weren’t exactly giving Metzli any clues, but they were intrigued. Maybe, if Siobhan didn’t answer their question, they could ask Honey. She was practically an encyclopedia of knowledge. They supposed that was the benefit to living four centuries, with freedom no less. That, unfortunately, wasn’t a luxury Metzli was afforded, so they had to stick to the old fashion method: asking questions.

“May I ask what you are?”

—

“Is your friend an incinerator?” Siobhan sighed, full of envy. She wanted a friend that would eat her dead bodies for her, bones and all. That was a true friendship. “Or a woodchipper?” She’d put a body through one of those once; it was a good time. “I have to wait?” She whined softly. “Can’t I just take one now? I’ll leave the meat intact—I’m very good at deboning a human.” She was starting to suspect she was so good at it that she could do it with her eyes closed. She hadn’t tested the theory yet but she was confident anyway.

“Banshee,” Siobhan said quickly, before her brain had caught up with the question. She froze for a second, wide-eyed as she stared at the dead body. She glanced at the wine that was miraculous still in her hand. She downed it all, eyeing the bottom of the glass and the drops of liquid that remained. Alcohol was also a double-edged sword: it helped with turning the emotions off but it made her mind less careful and her words sloppy. Well, she’d dug herself this grave she may as well lay in it. Metzli was being horribly honest; they’d shown her a murder room, let her drink vintage wine and offered to not comment about her earlier emotional outburst. All in all, there were worse graves to lay in. “It’s a type of fae, are you familiar?” Siobhan looked at Metzli, smiling. “Harbingers of death? Scream a lot? Beautiful? Great in bed?” The last two weren’t traits of the species, but Siobhan liked to think they were traits of herself.

—

“Banshee.” Metzli mimed, finding the word a little unfamiliar on their tongue. Though, it did have a twinge of something connected to it. They thought back, closing their eyes and furrowing their brows as they recalled a moment in time. It was Honey’s voice. In passing, she’d mentioned banshees, but far more than that, she spoke beautifully about fae. The way she even thought about them harbored close to worship. “Other folk.” They said, removing their knife from its holster.

With a practiced hand, the knife glided over the man’s skin, sinking into the neck with ease. Metzli thought giving the head would be best. Fitting that into a bag versus the odd shape of a limb? The answer was clear. Head. “Friend has told me about fae. Think she worships.” They continued to slice, blood coating their skin and squeezing their stomach despite the stale smell of it. “Never mention beds, but beauty yes.”

Tugging as carefully as they could, Metzli finished their mission, and removed the head with ease. “There. You may have this.”

—

“You have a friend that worships fae?” Siobhan’s were wide as she looked over to Metzli. Again, she found herself trying to search that impassive face for the lie and again, she had to remind herself that Metzli didn’t really lie. “I think your friend and I will get along,” she straightened up, smiling to herself. Yes, fae ought to be worshiped. So then, why did her stomach twist at the idea? Siobhan forced her attention to snap to Metzli and their actions. She’d expected to get a finger at most, a whole head was more than generous.

“That’s very sweet of you, Metzli.” Siobhan took the head with a bright smile, holding it up to gaze into the dead eyes. “This is a little romantic.” Siobhan peeked out from behind the head. “Wine. Art. A dead body. You gave me a whole head. You must be very popular with the ladies, Metzli.” She tossed the head between her hands, feeling the weight under her fingers. She dug into the soft, tender flesh. Perhaps she’d try preserving the whole head, this time. “Can I get a bag for this or…” She rose quickly, eager to get home and sit with the visions of death that accompanied the head. “Do you kill often, Metzli? You seem practiced with that knife—again, you must be very popular.”

—

“Yes. Scottish. Loves old ways and uses them a lot.” Metzli walked over the deep sink, washing their hands thoroughly. “Maybe you meet her eventually. She is always ‘round town.” Wiping off their hands, they turned back to Siobhan, watching her look almost adoringly at the head they’d just given her. Their brows quirked up, a little befuddled by the idea that everything they’d done had been taken as romantic. With Honey, that wouldn’t be so odd, but she was the only person Metzli had met that found their murderous tendencies attractive, or even remotely romantic.

Siobhan had to be poking at them, like Anita always did. Only…her expression said otherwise. And she did say she didn’t lie either. Metzli was inclined to believe her, but they had to shake their head to disagree and reveal the truth. “Not popular. People are scared of me.” They turned back to the sink, kneeling to sift around the cabinet below it.

“Only just have first kiss with friend.” A shrug, a passive one. “And first time. Many time now but only with her. Like I say, I scare people.” Finding an opaque bag, Metzli retrieved it and marched back over to Siobhan. “For you.” Their expression remained neutral, and they handed the bag off to Siobhan with a bow of their head. “Kill every few days. Many bodies in here every week.”

—

“Your first kiss… this week or…?” Siobhan blinked, staring blankly at Metzli as she waited for the eventual explanation. Metzli was a hunk, with women at their beck and call. At least, anyone who gave out wine this generously, didn’t mind an emotional outburst and showed off dead bodies with body parts in goodie bags must have been a true casanova. “And only with one person?” Siobhan blinked again, Metzli was not someone who joked. “I’m sorry—there’s nothing wrong with a lack of experience but uh…” She took the bag with an expression of bewilderment. “Murderers get laid a lot. It’s all the danger, it really attracts people. You’d be surprised at how many people I threaten to push down the stairs that end up taking me home—it’s strange the first time but people are really into it. It happened to me all the time.” With an emphasis on the past tense of the statement; Siobhan didn’t sleep around as much since her scars, it was always a hard topic to navigate.

“And you—you’re…” Siobhan gestured with the hand that held the back, knocking around the head. “You’re hot! You’ve got the whole emotionally detached angle—people love that, very attractive to them. And you gave me a head! A whole head! In banshee culture this is…I mean, you don’t just give any girl a decapitated head.” Siobhan sighed. “And you had your first kiss…just now?” Siobhan shook her head. “Metzli, I think you should harness your sex appeal more.” She looked over at the person crumpled on the ground, now head-less and still completely dead. “I can’t believe you’ve killed more people than you’ve kissed.” Somewhere sitting in there was a deep tragedy, something about being a tool unworthy of affection. But Siobhan wasn’t going to chase the thought, it didn’t seem to be a good idea to chase thoughts around Metzli.

“I guess I should get going but…” She paused, unsure this time why her body refused to move.

—

“No. Months ago when we meet. Have learned a lot from her. Says am good with knives.” Metzli looked up in thought, searching for anything else Honey had told them. She always said they were a quick learner, always eager to discover new ways to make her smile and ask for more. Finally, they remembered what Honey had referred to them as. They blinked, standing straighter as if they’d taken a victory. “Calls me…something about being on top and servicing.”

The way Siobhan reacted was a little bewildering, but Metzli learned quickly to always let people’s reactions ride themselves out. It was easier that way. Well, sort of. The easiest way to handle people was to simply walk away, but Metzli had a bit of a roadblock with Siobhan standing between them and the door. “How do I harness? Other friend try to teach me but nothing works. I say flesh looks edible and I am kicked out of business. No sense!”

Frustration, albeit briefly, furrowed Metzli’s brows. It was more of the fact that they failed at something rather than failed at picking up a woman specifically. It seemed like no matter how hard they tried, they were just broken. That they would never be able to fix or undo whatever Eloy had done. But that wasn’t a topic they wanted to think about

Sighing, Metzli rubbed at their eyes and relaxed their expression back to neutral. It didn’t serve anyone for them to behave the way they did. “Is fine though. All of it. Cannot just use truth. Can even say to you I would like to bed you and it will not work.” They gestured their hand to Siobhan vaguely, “Truth is too forward. People not like that very much.” Tisking to themself, Metzli leaned back onto the sink and nodded, looking back up to their guest. “Is okay if you have to go. Was actually nice to have you here. You are delight.”

—

“Yeah.” Siobhan’s gaze trailed from Metzli’s head to their feet. Her lips quirked up. “You would be a service top.” It was such an obvious conclusion that Siobhan chuckled as she pictured it--Metzli didn’t seem like the type to know how to take lead on their own. It was sweet, in a way. Whoever Metzli’s friend was, Siobhan was sure she was happy--satisfied. And that should have been it, an amusing thought and nothing more, but as Metzli continued Siobhan’s smirk grew sharper. Holding her head bag out on one finger, she let it slip off, bouncing off the floor. “Is that so?” She stepped closer, hand clasped behind her back. “Is that what you think, Metzli?” Her tongue darted out, quickly tracing the soft pink outline of her lip.

“Do you want to test that theory? Would you like to ask me to your bed, Metzli?” She cocked her head to the side, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. She didn’t know if Metzli would meet her challenge, she didn’t know how serious they were about their friend, but none of it mattered to Siobhan. She wasn’t interested in romance and she never had a problem finding people who wanted to be naked around her. It had been some time for her, but she didn’t care about that either. To care would give more meaning to an act that wasn’t meant to have any. “I don’t have anywhere to go--I’m exactly where I want to be.” Siobhan lifted her hand into the air, pressing a finger firmly between Metzli’s collarbone. “Go on,” she smirked, “ask me.”

—

Well, that was unexpected. Metzli didn’t think their monologue of annoyance would turn into a duel of flirtations. They swallowed hard, standing straighter—feeling as if they somehow grew an inch taller. Siobhan was beautiful and anyone would be lucky to even speak to her. But to perform with her? The idea was daunting. Somehow, without even doing anything remotely intimate with Leila, Metzli knew that Siobhan would be an opposite experience. Similar to Honey maybe, but still different in that regard too. Their friend still cared for them even if it was rough, bordering on dangerous. But maybe that was okay. Metzli could use the experience. Honey would even be proud.

Shuddering at the contact, it was all the vampire could do to not snap at Siobhan. Lucky for her, Metzli saw her touch incoming, granting them the opportunity to see she wasn’t threatening them. They stayed put, swallowing again and keeping their composure as best they could. Their nerves began to crawl up and down their skin, but they persisted, miming the way Siobhan approached them with a press of their fingers to her collarbone. Not as much finesse, but still, they tried.

“I…I-I have bed in loft here. Can take you.” Metzli shifted their weight from one foot to the other, moving their hand away. What if this was a trick? Like one Anita would pull for a laugh? There was no way this would work, they thought. But they were already in too deep. They had to focus. Even if it was a trick, at the very least, an attempt was made and they could learn.

“Would you…would you like to go with me? To my bed, I mean.”

—

Metzli had done it, Siobhan felt proud in a way; like watching a baby bird take flight. A little clumsy but once the wind was under their wings, they’d get there. In a few months, maybe they’d get it all out without stammering. “I would like to fuck you, yeah.” Siobhan leaned in, “just make it worth my time.” When she’d entered the gallery, sex was the last thing on her mind though it was never far from her thoughts. Thankfully, whoever had taught Metzli had done a good job of it. She’d drop a thank you note except even her strangeness had its limits.

The night went on, stars, moon and all. And somewhere, in a cold room, a bagged head had been forgotten. And somewhere, in a loft, Siobhan felt happy to add her name to a very small list of people. Somewhere else, buried deeply, was a tragedy about tools and scars and unworthy affections and lack of experiences, but Siobhan didn’t think about that; to think about it would give meaning to an act that had none.

The night went on.

#hello metzli is a delight and i adore jojo #that is all #this was so fun #c: metzli #writing #I Write Sins and Tragedies #physical abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #torture tw #s1

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multifandomlvr · 2 years

Text

Big Feelings

Whenever it came to class 1-A, Monoma has always been loud, sarcastic, and mocking.

You knew how he indeed was.

You knew he wasn't like that when you got to know him.

No one knew his true self.

You know when you and Monoma would hang out, just the two of you. He was so caring and in tune with your feelings and if you needed anything.

Monona was an excellent cook; he put his whole heart into everything he cooked. So, seeing how some of his classmates would treat him or how others perceived him broke your heart.

You would call Monoma insecure; he wasn't sure how to make friends.

Many kids and adults around him would make fun of him as he grew up.

'We would look like losers hanging out with someone with such a lame quirk.'

'You might as well be quirkless,' Many people would tell him.

Since then, Monona would put on this fake persona and act like someone he wasn't.

Today was the day you were working with class 1-A, and you could feel the energy from Monoma in waves.

It wasn't going to be a good day, that's for sure.

So you thought of a plan.

Instead of Monona making you dinner and dessert. You would make it for him instead.

After training, you quickly ran to the locker room and changed when you saw Monoma waiting for you. You told him some lame excuse.

When you got to the apartment you and he shared, you threw all of your stuff at the front door and went straight to one of Monoma's favorite cookbooks, and you flipped to a random page and just picked something.

Soupe à l'oignon

Is what you decided on. You knew it wouldn't taste as good as Monoma would make it, but the thought counts, right?

So you quickly got to work.

What felt like an eternity and one messed-up kitchen later.

You finished cooking and setting everything up.

The concoction you had made looked good enough, but would it taste good.

"I'm home!" Monona yelled at the front door.

"Do you do this on purpose? Leaving your stuff at the front door?" You could hear his voice get closer.

You stood by the table and waited for him to come in when he stepped over the threshold.

"Surprise!" You yelled. Monona stood there staring at you.

"What's all this?" He asked.

"I thought I would cook you something." You explained. He came over and gave you a smile and a hug.

"It looks delicious. Why don't we sit down and eat, ok?" He told you. You nodded and sat down next to him.

You watched his every move and waited for his reaction.

It was instantaneous. He spits it out.

"What's wrong? Are you ok!?" You asked, panicked.

Monona started laughing.

"It's so not good!" He told you through his hysterics.

You stood up and looked at the recipe again; it then hit you that you used the wrong ingredient and must have misread it.

You dramatically fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to do something nice for you…." You explained.

Monona came and sat on the floor next to you.

"I appreciate the gesture; I do. Why don't we go out for dinner, and we can come back, and then we can come back and clean this up. How does that sound?" He asks.

You looked at him with sad eyes and nodded, standing up and walking out the door to a favorite restaurant you and he enjoy.

#mha headcanons #mha #mha fluff #fluff story #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfic #mha x reader #my hero acedamia #established couple #love #boku no hero academia #mha neito #neito x reader #monoma neito #bnha neito

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deobi-scenes · 1 year

Text

December 21st-- lee s.y.

(pt. 2 of friday the 13th)

genre | heartbreak au

word count | —

notes | Sorry for being inactive the past few months. I had too much on my plate and lost the drive to write. Hopefully, I’ll catch up and make up for it this winter. Stay safe and warm everyone! Always remember, you are loved.

———

y/n’s POV

The sun was shining, brighter than it ever was and yet, I still felt gray inside.

I was staring at my calendar for a good few minutes now. I focused my attention to the date that had hearts all over it together with the label, 'Sangyeon and Y/N Day!' 💚

" Today was supposed to be our anniversary." I quietly mumbled biting my lip; refraining myself from pouring out any unwanted emotion.

'It's just like any other day, suck it up.' I said, mentally scolding myself for acting this way.

"honey, it's time for lunch." my mom called knocking on my bedroom door making me lose my trance

"n-ne." I said breathing deep and went outside to join my mom for lunch.

" thank you for the meal." I said before digging in. Well, I sort of kept pushing my food back and forth because I didn't have any appetite at all.

" is there something wrong honey? Do you want me-"

" ani, eomma. It's fine. I'm just a bit under the weather." I weakly smiled finally eating a spoonful of rice

It was a peaceful and quiet time until my mom decided to speak up, mentioning him.

" It's almost Christmas and I still haven't heard of Sangyeon. By this time around, he would be excited putting up the decorations."

" He's just busy with his schedules mom. It's Gayo season." I explained.

I hated lying most especially to my mom but I couldn't bear to tell him that he and I broke up.

They loved him as if he was already a part of the family. They even bought him his Christmas present already.

Other than that lame excuse, I was still in denial by the fact that we already broke up.

It has already been a month but my heart and mind cannot accept the fact that we were over.

"oh, is that so? Ask him when he's free so he can help me with decorating. He's the only one with a good eye for art around here. I need to see if it's Sangyeon approved."

"n-ne. Mom, why don't I just help you instead? I mean, he might be really busy. I could just send him the pictures to see whether or not it's Sangyeon approved."

I felt my heart sink when his name came out of my mouth. Luckily, I managed to keep a straight face in front of my mom who already had her eyebrow raised at me.

"okay, whatever you say so." She said standing up and washing the used plates we just used

" I'll be in my room if you need me." I said quietly excusing myself from the table

I felt so lost right now. Yes, I was in the comfort of my own home but everything felt so foreign.

Finally lying on my bed and staring up in my ceiling, I plugged in my airpods and listened to some happy playlist on Spotify.

Despite the music blasting through the airpods my world still felt silent. I still felt sad.

'snap out of it, y/n. He's not coming back.'

———

Sangyeon's POV

"hyung, let's eat." Hyunjae spoke softly while knocking at the door of my room.

"I'll be out in a while."

hearing the boy sigh from the other end of the door made my heart hurt but there was nothing more painful than losing y/n.

I'm sure the pain that she was feeling was hundred times more than what I was feeling.

Finally going out of the room, I was greeted by worried and surprised faces.

Juyeon was walking behind me and gave me a pat before taking his place on the table.

" let's eat!" he finally said opening the containers of food our dorm auntie prepared for us.

It was a peaceful and quiet lunch. Nobody spoke a word but I felt their eyes glued on me.

" I'm fine, guys. I won't kill myself." I said finally putting down my spoon and looking at them.

" you are basically dead." Changmin spoke taking the used dishes from the three of us.

rolling my eyes at him, Younghoon could only look at me with his usual puppy eyes.

" what?"

" hyung, you really have to pull yourself together. Everyone is getting worried about you. Remember we have a lot of schedules until the end of the year. We don't want you getting sick. If y/n-"

the three guys looked at each other worriedly after mentioning y/n. As much as I wanted to tell them that it was fine, hearing her name made me feel at peace and rattled at the same time.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." I said to them without saying another word.

I was sitting on my bed when suddenly Haknyeon went inside together with a tub of ice cream. If I was on the mood, I could've swore I would nag at him.

" we.... just ate?" I looked at him confused

Haknyeon on the other hand was busy devouring the tub of ice cream on his lap.

" you want some?" he asked, handing over a spoon from his pocket.

" no, I'm fine. Besides, I can't eat cold things." I said scrolling through my pictures.

I stumbled upon y/n and I's picture taken during our last anniversary.

'She looks so happy.'

other than my members, y/n was my source of strength. She was just a ball of sunshine who lifted everyone's mood up. With all the positive things I could say to her, the remaining time of this day won't be enough.

———

y/n's POV

Finally having the courage to go outside, I went out and saw a bouquet in front of my doorstep. Yellow tulips - my favorite.

" I guess it's from yeonnie." my mom said walking by past me.

I smiled blankly and picked up the bouquet. I peeked inside and there was a note.

" noona,

I snooped at Sangyeon hyung's phone and saw this on his cart. It's probably for you. I know today was supposed to be your anniversary but things happened.

We all miss you. He misses you A LOT.

Anyway, I hope you like mine and Eric's little gift. See you soonest!

x Sunwoo and Eric."

I smiled at the note. Despite their crazy antics, Sunwoo and Eric never fail to lift my mood up.

I went inside and was greeted by eomma's excited voice.

"y/n look! It's Sangyeon!" she said pointing at the flatscreen tv in front of her.

As much as I didn't want to look at him right now, I had to muster up the courage to pretend that everything was fine.

" The B, you have waited for a long time right? Instead of singing our song 'Candles' please allow us to sing a crowd favorite. Merry Christmas." Sangyeon spoke as the background music of the song played.

---

Sangyeon's POV

" thank you for allowing me to sing this." I said to the group while waiting for our cue to go on stage.

Originally, we were supposed to sing Thrill Ride and Candles but because today was y/n and I's supposed to be anniversary, I just felt like I could do this the very least to show her how much I love her.

At first, the staff and the production were hesitant because of the mood the song set but together with the rest, we’ve managed to convince them that we’ll make it work.

“ of course hyung. We have your back, not matter what.” Kevin said giving me a reassuring smile.

“The Boyz please standby on stage.” the production staff said ushering us to the stage.

As soon as we stepped on stage, loud cheers were heard.

Before the music started, the guys looked at me and signaled that I should say something.

" The B, you have waited for a long time right? Instead of singing our song 'Candles' please allow us to sing a crowd favorite. Merry Christmas." I said waiting for the background music of the song to be played.

‘I hope you’re watching this y/n.’

——

y/n’s POV

As much as I wanted to hold it in, I just couldn’t.

the emotions I’ve kept to myself all gushed out as soon as I heard his voice.

“is everything alright sweetie?”

“ no, it’s a merry bad ending.”

#tbz imagines #tbz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #sangyeon #jacob bae #younghoon #hyunjae #juyeon #kevin #new #q #ju haknyeon #sunwoo #eric sohn #the boyz

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lindajenni · 5 months

Text

nov 27

the law of Christ

"bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." gal 6:2

"therefore strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but rather be healed." heb 12:12-13

when i awoke this morning, my awareness was it was a sunday. my thoughts then went to the only tangible pastors now in my life. they are a precious husband and wife team, pastoring and serving where they may. i was introduced to them through hospice at a time when i probably was not the most receptive or appreciative. they, along with my online fellowship have help sustained me in a difficult period. of course, Jesus always first.

further confirmation this was my topic came to me after my prayer time finished and i opened the scriptures. where was my book marker placed? "let him who is taught the word share in all good things with him who teaches." gal 6:6 next to it i had written, "tell owen." owen happened to be my pastor at that time, years ago. so God didn't have to hit me on the head with a ton of bricks.

yesterday many gathered together in various places of worship and were blessed with fellowship and sharing the word of God. as they gathered, i wonder how many even gave a passing thought to those active in the ministry; the preacher, the elders, the ushers, the child care, etc. too often we take things for granted and just assume it is their job. it may well be a job but it is a calling as well. the fortunate are blessed with a little recompense, but most are not.

as i woke up sunday morning, the Lord had my heart turn to pastors and their calling. often we put them on pedestals they neither seek nor desire. then, if they happen to fall, the world mocks again that precious name. that has happened way more often than it should. so should we condemn as well? my bible tells me, "brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted." gal 6:1 if we are to fulfill the law of Christ, we must bear another's burden. we must travail as though it were our own sin needing repentance.

but who or what contributed to their fall? did we as parishioners play a part? they are, after all, only flesh and blood as with us all. but pastors, in particular. carry not only their own burden, but many others as well. we attend hoping to have our faith built up and be spoon fed the word of God. and if we stand in a prayer line, how many are praying for that pastor and his family? it makes me think of PK's (preacher's kids), their difficulties and the wives's who carry a heavier load because of another's calling, i.e. ministry. i remember how billy graham always used to praise his wife as holding down the fort while he went abroad ministering the word. we all play a part; many unheralded.

even visiting evangelists often go unappreciated. i remember once receiving a hearty group scolding from one who had traveled to many places at their own expense, being rewarded only with a dribbling of an offering and probably little appreciation or encouragement. they had just reached their breaking point and perhaps were close to losing their ministry.

"and He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers." eph 4:11 this scripture teaches us that God has established a five fold ministry. God has called and established each one as He chooses. we do not take this calling upon ourselves. otherwise it would be in vain. one might not be comfortable preaching to masses but their calling might be on a keyboard with strokes in solitude. God has prepared each vessel for His purpose.

while i intend these dailies to encourage and lift up Jesus alone, i realize many reading may consider this a teaching of sorts. i think on that often and it makes me shudder because of this scripture. "my brethren, let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment." james 3:1 believe me when i say my sins would not be covered if the blood of Jesus were diluted in the least. but like the apostle paul, necessity is laid on me. he says: "for if i preach the gospel, i have nothing to boast of, for necessity is laid upon me; yes, woe is me if i do not preach the gospel!" 1 cor 9:16

and so, "we urge you, brethren, to recognize those who labor among you, and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love for their work’s sake. be at peace among yourselves." 21 thes 5:12 these are chosen vessel to help guide you through the walk of faith. i know we all have different personalities and may have to shop around until we find the right fit, but once that is decided, suffer no offense of flesh short of corrupt doctrine. flesh may scream but it also must die.

all are not be "called" into ministry, but we all are ministers of God's grace. "as each one has received a gift, minister it to one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God." 1 pet 4:10 yes, we are indeed our brother's keeper. we all are ambassadors for Christ. i have a long time prayer - may the Lord never be ashamed to be called my God.

friends, i've never asked you before to forward a daily to anyone else, but i am asking you to forward this one to as many as God brings to mind. none of us know the secret labors of another, and our leaders are not exempt. prayer is preeminent but "a word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." prov 25:11

how shall they know unless they be told? tell a minister today that you appreciate them, are praying for them, and let it be more than a gesture. let us truly care for those who care for us.

#prayer #faith #rapture #jesus #jesus is coming

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aquiescentraconteur · 8 months

Text

I promise

My sweet girl,

I came across something last night that made me think of you.

I’ve been reading “The Restlessness Book” which, I must say, is a mandatory reading after you’ve turned 25, at least! The author is considered “one of the masters” and I have to say, I never really understood why! Until I read this particular book.

It is a compilation of his thoughts and emotions, his most private reflections. It’s not the first work of his I’m reading, but it is the first I’m a fan of. There are thousands of passages, a few of them, quite small. Some of them, are pages long. The man has always been known for his geniality or schizophrenia, you pick!

One of my best friends suggested I read it, R., I’ve told you about him before. He’s the older brother I never had a chance to meet, my nightmares’ guardian. I am thankful for many people in my life, but he holds a very special place in my heart.

I’m rambling again, sorry! This is the particular quote that made me think of you: “I realized I missed not him, but of my idea of him.”, and that got me thinking about how much I worry you might feel this. I never want you to look at me and see a fable of a person, the cradle of a lie.

I guess the only way I can control that is by promising you to always be truthful, and I do. I promise not to lie – okay, scratch that. I promise to only do white lies. I’ve loved this concept ever since my dad first told me about it, he used to tell me: “If what you’re going to say isn’t going to make things better, be quiet.” I guess I always listen to him, even now.

I realized that I’ve talked about a lot of important people here, I’ve described the main individuals that have been present throughout this journey and made it better. From the girls to the guys, you’ve heard of all of them, got to know them even. But you never heard of me.

So, who is your mom?

She’s both simplicity and intricacy – this girl can explain the most complex concepts in a few words and transform really simple things into convoluted objects. I can see a very straight line in regard to the discussion on human rights applications and a very confusing and elaborate path when talking about 0’s and 1’s.

She’s a black and white girl, with colourful moments and greyish occasions. I’ll give an example: I’m the biggest fan of Matisse but my favourite colour is white. I love to see the colour red on my skin tone, but I own very few pieces of that particular tone. I used to decorate my childhood room with orange and pink, now? It’s all brown and cream.

She’s a romantic who has been fighting to believe in love. You know where I stand on this, no point in elaborating more right? Just know that romance, silk and lace are my personal favourites, they're just on hold at the moment.

She’s a sugar addict, full stop. There’s no opposite side on this one. I’m a girl who will have macaroons for breakfast and vanilla ice cream for dinner, no problem.

She’s a sucker for poetry, classical music and impressionism. I love lame country songs – they have the most heartfelt lyrics – and can’t resist a good old rock anthem. I’m the girl who will attend a Chopin concert and then switch the ballet flats for Dr.Martens to go see New Order.

I’m a heel girl, with all the blisters and cuts they entail. But I am also a big Vans fan.

I’m a silver-lining person, with permanent negative intrusive thoughts.

I forgive people, but I do not forget.

I´m a firm believer in “Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about” so you’ll never hear me say: “Give him the cold shoulder”.

I’m all of these, but I am a lot of others.

I am many things, but mostly, I’m myself which makes it impossible for me to describe the person who is now your mom, I just realized.

I guess all I can do is hope she’s one of those who keep their promises.

Love,

Mom, August 8th 2023

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sunrisedriven · 10 months

Text

6/21

Yeah, I definitely did not study for that test.

I reached a full circle, though. I don't know how to explain it, but it feels surreal. Closure. Letting go of what I lost, what I missed out on. It may have taken eight years, but I still got what I wanted. The door is wide open. There's so much more now. I didn't have to stop dreaming. I've got a lot more going for me.

It's all within reach. New York called my name and I turned her down. I'm still getting that high rise, though. It's just a matter of time. I'm no longer heartbroken over what-ifs. It's possible.

Principles. It's not like it will keep me full and happy and content throughout the night, but I'm glad I chose it over five-minute recognitions. I can go further. Coast to coast, I'm going to make my mark on both.

I persisted. This quarter was awful. I came up with all sorts of conclusions that broke my heart and never have I ever felt so disappointed by people. I wanted to give up, but it would've been so lame to repeat the same mistakes. I just - there has to be a way for me to show how ridiculous ya'll be acting sometimes. Embarrassing. Some of these people need to know how embarrassing they are. It's for their good. It's that part of my job description? No, but it's torture watching it all unfold and having to stop myself from laughing at the nonsense. Like, am I supposed to feel bad for you? Are you serious?

I dug a grave for all the mistakes I made and planted flowers around it. Paid my respects. It's time to move on.

No straight A's, unfortunately. There's a B- in there, but I'll live. I still passed. I finished it. I'm proud of it. It was a tough quarter.

This was time well spent. I wouldn't have had it any other way. I still missed graduation. It's just not meant to be, I guess, but I'm really glad I stuck it through. I might not reap the rewards sometime soon, but I will someday. I have something planted for the next season.

I'm sorry for being abrupt. I'm running on 4 hours of sleep....for the past three days, yessir, yes ma'am, I only had four hours of good sleep. LOL. Maybe that's why I sound silly right now.

But yeah, full circle. I have grown so much the past two years. I'm proud of my decision. I'm glad I came back.

One thing that's on my mind is that once I go back to the city, I will probably run into one of them. That's something I have to deal with, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. All the engagements I'm seeing on insta is bugging me. I mean, I'm happy for them, 100%, but I'm slowly realizing that I'm in that phase of my life and I hate to say it, but I don't see myself getting married in this lifetime. God forbid.

bleh.

Time to lose weight.

#blog #Spotify

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nikola-stefan · 2 years

Text

Tale of Tales, Book I, Episode 22: Chanting into the Night

Chanting into the Night

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The conversation which had started in whispers was slowly but surely turning into a loud argument, with the men of Morlak now almost chanting rather than talking.

“Remember, Vuk, who you are, we beg of you!”

“I do not know, men, what you are talking about…”

“Remember, Vuk! If you are the one, you must remember!”

“What?! I do not understand you!”

“Remember, lame wolf, your true self! The prophecy of your arrival is as old as Morlak – Remember who you are!”

“Enough, men, let off! What to remember? You make no sense!”

“Remember yourself, lame wolf! Your arrival is foretold – that you would come with strange friends, and that you still would not know!”

“Know what?! And who could know of our arrival? Whoever told you this nonsense, it certainly was not about me!”

“It is foretold that you would not know, but that, when danger threatens, you will remember. Remember who you are!”

“Men, I cannot say it any clearer – I know not what you are talking about and have nothing to recall!”

It was obvious that Vuk felt more and more exasperated with the incessant onrush of words the two barefoot men set at him, their badgering only increasing in intensity at this worst of times. Then, without warning, one of the two men from Morlak suddenly grabbed the cripple’s shirt with both hands and ripped it open. Moonlight exposed his shaggy chest, at the same time revealing something curious on the side, high up on the left of his breast: a striking black mark could be made out there, in a shape most similar to a wolf’s head. But only for a moment, before Vuk let out an upset snarl, dropping the stick to use both hands to pull his now torn shirt back across his torso. “Are you crazy?!” he mufflingly yelled. The two men pulled back, their faces lit with wonder.

“It truly is you, leader of the pack!” The voices of Morlak men exclaimed together in one breath, now overcome with awe, though finally maintaining a small distance from the limping man. “You came with strange friends, and lame, not knowing yourself, and here is the mark etched on your chest!”

“People, for your god’s sake… that is not some drawing on my chest, it is but a birthmark. By that shape I was named Vuk, a lone wolf!”

“That is as it should be! It is said that this mark of the chieftain is the sign we draw upon our chest. Remember who you are, leader!”

They then both pulled their vests open, under which they wore nothing, each revealing that just to the left and high up on their upper left breast, in precisely the same spot as Vuk, they were marked with the exact same sign. This at once both jolted and confused the lame thief, who remained momentarily wonderstruck.

And no matter how enthralling it might have been for the rest of the companions to follow this unresolved incident to some end, their attention was suddenly wrenched by the harsh and abrupt laughter. A laugh that burst forth and began to emanate from the forest, a cruel, gratingly mocking laugh drawing quickly closer and closer. Its dissonant echoes were still grating across their ears when, from out of the shadows, appearing against the curtain of blood red eyes, emerged the black horseman. And surrounding him, above his head and all around, swarmed the hideous imps. These little beasts, like grotesque miniature people twisted into the shape of bats, seemingly covered the sky above the forest, a dark moving mass blinking with the small fires that occasionally flared out from the almost infinite number of their momentarily silent mouths. Now, as the laugh of the dark rider slowly faded into the night with the imminence of his arrival, the company on the clearing could hear only the overwhelming whirring of their wings and feel only that indescribable chill cutting straight to their bones, setting the stage for the approaching black menace.

And what a terrifying sight the horseman was! While Žarko had felt fear even at their first encounter, it now seemed as if his heart was frozen. On this occasion there was nothing left for the light to reveal, nothing ridiculous to be seen. The night had shrouded the hint of blush on the rider’s cheeks, straightened his disheveled hair, softened the tattered clothing – as if the night had been the missing element in their first encounter. Even his bloodshot eyes now had a flaming splendor, bearing no resemblance to the redness of tiredness or drunkenness, but possessing a clear, unbridled cruelty. Before the companions stood a figure of twisted royalty, haughty and callous, endlessly terrible in its sinister stance, which emanated from every part of the rider’s body, every piece of his vestments, even from the horse on which he rode. And Žarko, for the first time, believed in some of Marena’s words – that in front of them, poised, was indeed the true lord of the night, vampire or not!

The horseman had resumed his arrogant and hideous laughter as he rode slowly out of the forest, with this terrifying cackle acting almost as a servant, advancing ahead of the rider himself to pierce the very hearts of his opponents; and mercilessly it persisted, ringing out and echoing, finally ceasing only when the horse, having made a few slow steps, brought his rider completely out into the clearing. Then the dark rider spoke, his voice now completely free of all the hoarseness and rasping strain that Žarko remembered clearly from their first meeting. Now the speaker’s voice was youthful and resonant like a crystal bell, reminiscent even of Miloš’s, but possessing an unmistakable note of unshackled violent intent; one could not say whether the sound it made was pleasant or unpleasant to the ear, for the utterance of each word sent needles shivering up the skin of every listener.

“We meet again, mad Žarko… We meet, though for you it would be better that we do not! Did I not tell you plainly: ‘Beware, Žarko, that your path does not lead you across mine again?’ I see that you have not heeded me, so now you must reap what you have sown!”

Žarko did not want to waste this unexpected chance. Instead of answering, he suddenly and swiftly hurled his battle spear, aiming for the horseman’s heart! It was a powerful throw, and the spear cut briskly through the night air, yet even more quickly the rider swung his enormous saber with astonishing agility, knocking the flying spear sideways and just off its intended mark. The bladed head of the diverted spear still managed to strike the armor of the breastplate, but it just glanced off its front and fell to the side, like a branch attacking a stone wall. What devil’s armor was this, that not even Žarko’s strongest throw could penetrate?! And the momentum itself, which would knock even the best warrior off his horse, was simply not enough against this adversary – after a slight twitch, he remained stoically seated on his horse, which, under the force of the blow, swayed to the side, but kept its footing, then gave a loud and menacing neigh of victory. The horseman glared furiously at Žarko’s band of companions for a dire moment, and then screamed:

“Onward, horde: time for us to feed!”

And in shrieking his command, the face of the horseman seemed to visibly warp and stretch, like a mask tearing, losing with these final words any remote trace of raw beauty and humanity, and what remained in its stead was nothing but sheer, bared malice. The demon wolves rushed in from all open sides, running forward past the horseman in a furious charge towards the luckless bunch trapped atop the rise.

Even as the short speech of the horde’s leader unfurled, the two Morlaks, as they called themselves, still pressed on in chanting at Vuk in almost hypnotic rhythm, so focused that they paid no attention whatsoever to the events closing in upon them:

“Remember yourself, lame wolf! You must remember – only your calling can summon us when it is not our time! Remember yourself, chieftain-Vuk, remember who you are or this night will take us all!”

Vuk looked as if snared in confused turmoil. His attention constantly shifted back and forth, from the entrancing babbling of the two barefoot figures, to the events unfolding on the edge of the forest. He visibly twitched, upset, when the wolves lunged forward on command. Žarko and Miloš, meanwhile, awaited the rush, well-prepared for battle: the saber cut through the air first, slicing down two of the animals in one swoop, the first’s severed head flying off the remainder of its body, while the slashing motion continued through the other’s open mouth, gaping the demonic jaws even wider; the return stroke then cut through the forelegs of the third monstrous attacking animal, leaving it snapping its terrible jaws in vain through the open air, while still furiously sliding on the ground just a few steps from its unbitten victim; yet another charging hellhound stumbled upon the wriggling fallen body, only to be met by the sharp point of Miloš’s unrelenting curved blade. Meanwhile, with one mighty swing of his enormous battle mace, Žarko took down three of the demons at once, tossing them aside to the left like a bloodied furry mass, striking in their misshapen flight several more beasts who were racing up from the other side and disabling their progress. The now fevered cripple, despite his confusion, managed to raise the staff he had been given by Miloš and at the last moment strike one of the beasts that had somehow made it through, staggering it momentarily, while Brado, in the blink of an eye, jumped on its back, extinguishing it deftly with his knife before straightening back up, as if nothing had happened, and rejoining Vukan in their frantic incantation: “Remember, Vuk, remember, leader, remember for all of us, for our time is running out! Remember, chieftain-Vuk, remember who you are!”

Then, finally, Vuk remembered.

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