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aclowntiny · 11 months

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Down the Drain- Barista!San x Female!Reader (College AU)

San has literally said he likes the idea of being a barista so here you go Sannie boy 😘😂 first time getting one of the boys as a barista hehe. Also, we’ve all had that professor 💀

Word Count: 2571 | College AU | Warnings: very slight language, me throwing in a blackpink reference cuz we love the bangers 😌

All your money was going to go down the drain. You couldn’t believe your campus had found yet another way to scam you. Yet you couldn’t really find it in yourself to complain this time. You knew they had to know exactly what they were doing, though. Whether it worker or not, your eyes were on them.

That day, you’d decided to make a rare stop at the campus café for a cold drink; it was just one of those days, a long one that could use a little refreshing pick-me-up, and you really didn’t take advantage of there being student baristas right around the corner of a big study floor enough. As per usual, the line was sort of long, but not out to the door, and you had a few hours of classes, so in went the airpods as you stood, trying not to stare at the girl in front of you’s bright pink backpack with its dangly Kuromi keychain the whole time. You did wonder where she got it from, though.

Two songs later, you were next, pulling your airpods out and popping them into your case as you glanced up toward the barista counter. And that was where you saw your campus’s latest scam.

Cafés hiring hot people was the biggest money pit ever and they knew it. The guy working the left register had your heart pounding the moment you laid eyes on him. He was average height with short dark hair, sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones. The way his arms flexed from their rolled-up sleeves made you suspect he was quite fit beneath the oversized black button-up beneath his apron. As he waved to Kuromi girl, he gave a dazzlingly bright smile. Oh, no, he had dimples. Come on.

“I can help you right here.”

Snapping out of your reverie, you stepped forward to his register. San, his name was, according to the handwritten chalk name tag pinned onto his green apron fabric. Suddenly, you could hardly remember how to speak. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi.” There went that smile again. Sir, your mother must be proud. “What can I get started for you?”

“Oh, well, I…” Internally you cursed yourself for stuttering so much, but finally you remembered the name of your favorite iced drink.

“That’s a good one! Have you ever tried it with flavoring in it?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I haven’t.” You were a creature of habit, pretty much reciting the same thing every time you approached the register.

“You should! It’s so good!”

You asked him which one he recommended, and after he told you you inquired how much extra it was.

“Since you’ve never tried it and it’s my fault you are,” he chuckled, “I’ll just throw it in for free!”

And he wasn’t even a dickish frat boy. Great. “Wow, thank you!”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure, er…what’s your name?”

“It’s (y/n).”

“(y/n),” he repeats as he scribbles it on your cup and sets it down, and you hate that he even makes that sound good, “well, I hope you like your drink like this, (y/n)!”

“I’m sure I will,” you reply with a smile as you return San’s wave, heart leaping as he follows the gesture with running a hand through his shiny black locks.

Curse that café for making you spend money.

Two days later, you had the same class schedule, that same long break, and what the heck, why not see if San was working? It was kind of stupid how much you looked forward to the possibility of seeing him, you mused as you passed beneath the green rows of trees planted along the walkway, but that didn’t really change the feeling, so along you went with your stupid hopes of coinciding schedules.

The line was, once again, not quite to the door. Pretty good. This time, the girl in front of you had a blink hammer keychain, so you chatted with her for a bit. Apparently her name was Rina and she was an engineering major. Good for her. San called you up by the time you guys finished exchanging socials, mouth falling into an o shape the moment you stepped up.

Your heartbeat went erratic again, momentary friendship and engineering talk distracting you from preparing intelligent conversation like you told yourself you were going to.

“(y/n), right?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, uh, yeah. I can’t believe you remembered with all the people you see in a day!”

“I try to remember people. Plus, you tried my concoction, so that was extra memorable!”

Well, whatever made you memorable. “I’m good with names, too. I remember yours.”

He clapped a hand over his name tag. “What is it?”

“San!” You giggled.

“Be honest, was it the free add-in?”

You shook your head, grip tightening on your backpack straps. “I would have remembered anyway.”

Luckily, he smiled at that. “I’m glad. Well, what am I getting started today?”

There you were again. All your income going down the drain.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Hey, San!” You waved; your heart still had a few things to say about that dimpled smile and- as you saw on the day he wore a t-shirt, your suspicions confirmed- those arms, but by now you’ve become enough of a regular at the campus café that talking to the incredibly cute barista was practically part of your weekly assignments.

“Is it hot outside?”

“Not too bad,” you replied, “I think the weather people over-exaggerated. It’s, like, short sleeves and jeans weather.”

“Not long sleeves and shorts weather?” San teased.

“Short sleeves and jeans weather and long sleeves and shorts weather are different and you know it!”

San’s dark, shiny eyes drifted upward in thought. “You know what? They really are. Jeans one is more on the warm side, sleeves is more on the chilly.”

“See? Thank you. You appreciate me.”

“I always do, (y/n),” San agreed with a nod, setting your cup on the counter, “my favorite regular!”

“Oh, you have to say that to everyone,” you waved him off with a blush.

“I don’t have to say anything except ‘What can I get started for you?’”

“Well, thanks,” you giggled, pulling off to sit on the café couch and fake-scroll instagram while you snuck surreptitious glances at San.

Soon the harsh fluorescent institutional lights of your college’s building complex didn’t seem so bright, your focus having been centralized for a little too long. You’d ordered a drink with whipped cream on top, and the way the baristas deftly handled the compressed canisters, loading them into an actual whipped cream gun, made you almost want to become one.

Maybe you’d apply once that huge project for history was done. The next day, you planned on shopping for materials in order to build it at a table in the library on the following Monday. It was an insanely elaborate diorama that probably would have been more fun if the entire unit wasn’t crammed into two weeks’ time. You didn’t generally have any problems with your professor, but couldn’t help wondering if he’d lost his mind with that one.

Oh, well. If he wanted all those countries to have a ‘history tower’ as he called them, then you’d give him a history tower. The toweriest darn history tower he could ask for…or whatever would earn you praise and an A.

“(y/n)?” San’s voice cut through your historic reverie.

Shaking your head, you grabbed your backpack and rose from the couch once more, crossing the forest green tile floor to the drink drop-off. “Sorry, I was just thinking about assignments and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally get it, my dance class is getting intense with the choreographies we have to make. I almost gave someone who ordered a hot cocoa someone else’s strawberry smoothie earlier I was so distracted.”

Dance class? Choreography? At this point, it was practically a drinking game for ever time your brain dropped a wow. “Oh, that’s really cool. Mine’s just a history diorama,” you chuckle.

“On what?”

“The Netherlands of all places.”

“That’s so cool! I don’t know much about them, so maybe you can teach me.”

“I’ll do my best. It’ll be a crash course for sure- not exactly my specialty.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great,” he told you warmly before his coworker handed him another drink; he gave you an apologetic glance. “I have a large cafe latte for Omar!”

You waved.

“See you next week,” he loudly whispered with a wink.

Next week was a bit different than your usual café run. This time, you’d been long situated at a library table, an intensely focused mess of glue, toothpicks, printed photos, paragraphs, drawings, plastic, and far, far too much more. You were going to build that tower until it broke you, then get some sugar, caffeine, and whatever adrenaline boost the glow in your heart from San gave you, then build some more. So far, it was murder to get the thing to stand despite its plastic supports. It was far later in the afternoon than you usually even got a drink, but such was a three-dimensional cultural history of the Netherlands.

“Aw, come on,” you muttered as a paragraph about Dutch paintings- Vanitas still lives, ironically- slid off its toothpick, “you were just fine a minute ago.”

It was sliding off the plastic dowels you were using to hold up the miniature spire. Sighing, you affixed it to a papier-mâché flower instead. This was ridiculous; you were busting your ass over basically a high school assignment all because your teacher wanted to send you off on your own for two weeks. Maybe, you thought venomously, he should have gotten caught up on grading papers so he could treat us like adults in return. Yeah, the fun had definitely leaked out of the project along with the last milliliter of glue, probably because it was individual. If you had a partner, you reflected as you crumpled more paper and cut another dowel.

Little did you know the effect that dowel would have on your day. As soon as you lifted your tower to insert it, a flower drifted ominously down. Your gaze softened. You blinked as a paragraph fell.

“No,” you whispered, but it was too late. The entire top decoration slid out along with the main support dowel, flopping miserably onto the table. Face crumpling, you joined it.

Bringing yourself to lift your head up was going to be hard. This was a whole day’s work down the drain. You just needed a good grade, wanted to do well and have something cute and fun, but all your energy had gone to-

“(y/n)?”

You peeled your face from between your crossed, horizontally-lain arms, despondent eyes falling upon San. You perked up slightly, getting your hair in place even if you could only muster a small smile. It didn’t escape your notice that he had a drink in each hand, but wasn’t wearing his apron. Maybe he had a date or a study session or something. If you weren’t already sad, you might’ve been at that.

“I saw how hard you were working on that,” he pouted, “I made you a drink to celebrate and everything.”

“You- you made that for me?” You asked, nodding toward what appeared to be your usual in his left hand.

“Of course. You’ve earned it. Working hard and all that.”

“Yeah,” you waved an arm over the carnage on the table, “but look at where that got me. I can’t believe I thought I had it.”

“Well,” San pushed back the chair next to yours, “I always say these things are more fun with a partner.”

“Right?” You started up your mental rant on your professor, this time verbally. “Like, what is he going to do with all these? Has he got space for them? Make these a two-person thing at least.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to know that yours is,” San winks at you, picking up a bottle of glue.

“You’re going to build this with me?”

“Sure,” he shrugs happily, “it looks fun, I’m off, and I said I wanted to learn about the Netherlands, right?”

“The skull paintings are probably the coolest part.”

“Ooh,” San stares down at the images, “emo.”

“Yet also spiritual.”

“And here I thought it was all tulips and windmills over there.”

You giggled softly at that, giving a little sigh before you picked up the center dowel. “Would you mind handing me the base, then?”

“Sure. Here, I’ll hold it down, you really jam that in there and I’ll reinforce it with the glue.”

“Ugh, that’s such a good idea,” you smacked your forehead, “why did I think the foam was enough?”

“Hey,” San put his hand on your shoulder, peering into your eyes, “it’s ok. It’s just a silly craft project.”

“Y- you’re right,” you replied, forcing yourself to stare as deeply back, even if you did blush.

“Well, I mean, your work isn’t silly, just the concept of-”

“You’re good. I know what you mean.”

An hour later, it was finished. The tower sat on the end of your table, keeping watch over you and San, you had his hands folded on the table as you told him your favorite embarrassing story of your eccentric great-grandfather.

“The mustard got in her glasses and everything!”

San doubled over, one hand slapping the table and the other falling onto your shoulder. You smiled in satisfaction, pausing to take a proud sip of your drink.

“And she stayed for the game?”

“Are you kidding? The office was paying for the tickets!”

“Oh, that’s great!” He laughed.

“I know.”

“We should go to a game,” San said, his eyes suddenly falling to the table as he played with his hands, “you know, at the campus stadium. Our baseball team has a game on friday. U-unless you're not comfortable with that, then my friend Jongho can come with us and-"

Your, surely baggy by now, eyes widened slightly, a smile rising back to your lips through your intent listening. "Not comfortable? Like, go as in a date?"

"We don't have to, though, we can totally just get a group to-"

"Tell Jongho I said he can stay home," you cut him off with a grin, joking to play off the backflips your ribcage was doing, especially when San smiled at you like that, I mean come on it's like you told him you were handing him his dreams and sheesh those dimples, "I mean, I don't even know him."

"Are you sure? Because he's one of my roommates, and he was building a Japan tower on our kitchen counter this morning."

"Oh. Well in that case, just tell him you found a girl who likes cute baristas."

This time, it was San's turn to blush, though he covered it by reaching for your hands, seemingly not caring about the glue splotches sullying your skin. "I- I will."

If you weren't already sure you made the right choice by San helping you secure an A on your project or the way he looked at you, you knew you did when he insisted on buying you a school mascot plushie and including it in your fieldside selfie together and when he practically tackled you into his arms upon hearing you confess that you only went to the café to see him.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san #san x reader #san x female reader #female reader #coffee shop au #college au

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tainted-wine · 4 years

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Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

--------------------

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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sceptilemasterr · 2 years

Text

Endless Winter (ES Book 2) Act 1, Scene 11 - Sunset Chat

Title: Endless Winter

Main Pairings: Estela x Ian (M!MC), Jake x Alyssa (F!MC)

Other Pairings: Craig x Zahra, Grace x Aleister, Michelle x Quinn, Diego x Varyyn

Genre: Full Rewrite

Rating: PG-13 for swearing, violence, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Zahra and Alyssa confide in each other before coming to an agreement.

Previous Scene: Heart of the Island

Masterlist: Link

EXT. ELYYS’TEL - EVENING

The setting sun’s rays illuminate the buildings and walkways of Elyys’tel, still damaged from Cetus’s attack. Alyssa leans against a tree branch on a platform across a rope bridge from the throne room. She is gazing down at her hands, sadness and guilt clearly evident on her face. She looks up at the sound of a door opening, and Zahra emerges from the throne room. The expression on her face looks almost as guilty as Alyssa's.

ZAHRA (to herself): Dammit... it’s not fair.

She walks out along the bridge, not noticing Alyssa at first.

ALYSSA: Hey, Zahra.

Zahra glances over at her, surprised. She approaches Alyssa to sit beside her on the platform.

ZAHRA: Sorry. Didn’t see you there.

ALYSSA: It’s fine.

The two sit in silence for a moment. Then, Alyssa sighs, shaking her head.

ALYSSA: I don’t blame you for hating me. All of you. With how much I’ve made everything worse since we got here--

ZAHRA: Gonna stop you right there, Alyssa. There’s a lot of people I hate: Dr. Harlen and Dr. Serill back at school, that jackass in the dorm across from mine who keeps blarin’ pop music at all hours of the day, pretty much every politician in existence... Rourke, but that goes without sayin’... yeah. I hate a lot of people. You are not on that list. Never were, if I’m being completely honest.

ALYSSA: I-- but Zahra, I screwed up. Bad! Because of me, Diego was stuck here as a prisoner for half a year. Because of me, Quinn is dying--

ZAHRA: Yeah, and none of that shit is fair. But none of it is your fault. Quinn having that disease happened way before you got magic time powers.

ALYSSA (sighs): Maybe, but I definitely didn’t help--

ZAHRA: Nah, but you tried. You took a risk and went full steam ahead, and honestly? I was super impressed. At least you tried to help. I’ve never helped anybody but myself.

She rests her head in her hands.

ALYSSA: Zahra, that’s not--

ZAHRA: I’m a jerk, Alyssa. A total asshole. And then there’s Quinn, who’s so kind, and perfect, and pure... it’s annoying, really. Why’s she the one with a horrible illness, and then a selfish jackass like me stands here perfectly healthy? It’s not fair, Alyssa. Life’s not fair.

ALYSSA: At least you didn’t doom everyone to six months of--

ZAHRA: Who knows what kind of shit I might’ve caused if I was the one with the magic time powers? Probably best for all of us that you and your brother got ‘em, instead of me. Or worse... Craig.

Zahra glances over at Alyssa and laughs. After a moment, Alyssa relents and joins in on the laughter.

ALYSSA: Ha ha, yeah. Craig isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the deck.

ZAHRA: Uh... was that supposed to make sense?

ALYSSA: Dammit, I meant to say... ah, never mind, you get my point. Still, Craig’s not so bad.

ZAHRA: Nah. He’s alright.

The two gaze out over the sight of Elyys’tel at dusk spreading out below them. Zahra gives Alyssa a look.

ZAHRA: Listen. Don’t you forget that there ain’t no shame in tryin’ your best to help out. Even when it’s a big risk. In my experience, the biggest risks are the ones that are most worth it.

Alyssa stares down at her hands, deep in thought. Zahra smirks and nudges her shoulder.

ZAHRA: Besides, that time shit is super dope.

ALYSSA: Yeah...

Alyssa starts to say something more, but is interrupted by a sudden flash of green light coming from the throne room. She and Zahra glance in its direction.

ALYSSA: What the hell was that?!

ZAHRA: Holy shit!

They both scramble to their feet and start heading back across the bridge when the door to the throne room slams open and Craig emerges. He starts waving excitedly to the two of them with a huge grin on his face as he approaches.

CRAIG: Yo! The old dude’s magic crystal thing worked! Quinn’s back! She’s okay!

Alyssa lets out a huge sigh of relief, slumping down to her knees.

ZAHRA: Damn, that’s great! Best news we’ve had all day!

In her excitement over the news, she sprints over the bridge straight toward Craig. She gets closer, then stops herself a few feet away from him, turning away abruptly to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks.

ZAHRA: I mean... uh. Yeah. That’s cool, I guess.

CRAIG: Yeah. I dunno how this magic shit works, but whatever they did, Quinn’s back to normal.

ZAHRA: Nice. Glad to hear.

CRAIG: New chief dude says we all gotta rest up tonight, because tomorrow they’re gonna have a big party. I...

His voice trails off when he notices Zahra’s lack of reaction.

CRAIG: ...Uh, you two okay out here?

Zahra shrugs.

ZAHRA: Meh. It’s whatever.

CRAIG: Cool.

He lingers as if he wants to say something more, then stops.

CRAIG: Alright. Just wanted to let you know about Quinn. See ya.

He turns and starts walking back across the bridge. Alyssa approaches Zahra.

ALYSSA: You looked pretty happy for a minute there. I mean, you and Craig...

ZAHRA (defensively): What? I didn’t say anything! I don’t-- We’re not-- it wouldn’t work out anyway! What dumbass told you about Craig and--

ALYSSA: You told me, actually.

ZAHRA: Bullshit. I think I’d remember that.

ALYSSA: That bar crawl we did for Raj?

ZAHRA (laughs): Never mind, it all makes sense now. No wonder I don’t remember it.

ALYSSA: You told me all about you two. Sure, you said you’ve changed too much, but right there? Just now? Doesn’t seem like you’ve changed as much as you think.

ZAHRA: It... (sighs) Nah. It would never work. I’d just make things worse--

Alyssa smiles knowingly.

ALYSSA: “The biggest risks are the ones that are most worth it.” A friend of mine said that recently.

Zahra rolls her eyes, then smirks.

ZAHRA: Alright, well-played. But you gotta start usin’ your powers again, okay? No more of this “scared-of-myself” crap.

Alyssa briefly hesitates. Then she nods and extends a hand.

ALYSSA: Deal.

They shake hands. Then Zahra runs after Craig.

ZAHRA: Yo! Craig, you big ox! Wait up!

Alyssa smiles as she watches the two of them start talking. She looks down at her hands and sighs.

ALYSSA (to herself): Alright. Guess a deal’s a deal...

_______________________

Scene Notes: Just a quick scene for a heart-to-heart between Alyssa and Zahra... seems like Alyssa may finally open up to using her powers again. Just in time for the big party, which is coming next!

_______________________

Next: Valinorim

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie @mauvecatfic

Endless Summer Tag List: @mysteli @edgydepressedchoicesthot @endlessly-searching-for-you @lovelywrites

#choices endless summer #choices stories you play #csyp #endless summer rewrite #endless winter #es book 2 #choices interconnected universe #ciu project #zahra namazi #craig hsiao #quinn kelly #alyssa czasa #zahra x craig #don't worry there's still more to quinn's story #anyway #time for a party!!

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szivtalan · 3 years

Text

love is in the words unspoken

all these moments are golden,

forever is mine with you

the blossoming of the cherry trees always puts hawks in a strange mood. he thinks they’re romantic, magical - reminds him of a time when he was more naive, more dreamy, didn’t know much about the world. it’s nostalgic, to see the carpet of sakura petals on the streets, reminding him of what is and what could’ve been.

‘hawks!’

it’s ironic that he runs into endeavor’s child just as the flowers begin to fall.

‘hey, it’s todoroki.’ he grins, glancing at the two heroes behind the one already rushing up to him: deku and dynamight. ah yes, the three musketeers, as they call themselves. it’s nice to see the top three teaming up that way. ‘where’s the honorific though, kiddo? i’m still much older than you.’

‘not that much.’ shoto replies, and it feels like a shot to the heart. that’s right... they’re both in their twenties now. ‘and i figured i’d drop the honorifics now that i’m above you on the hero ranking list.’

the tilt of his head would be adorable if he weren’t such an asshole. tokoyami was right when he said that his youngest was different than endeavor - hawks only wished to see such a playful side of him.

‘the disrespect.’ hawks laughs, slapping shoto on the shoulder. he hits harder than what would be necessary, but the boy doesn’t even bat an eye. sturdy. and tall. holy shit, is he taller than hawks now? ‘anyway, i really don’t mind. are you guys patrolling around here?’

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE HALF-AND-HALF, BEFORE I GO THERE AND BEAT IT!’ one youngster yells at them.

‘kacchan, don’t be so rude! he’s talking to hawks-san!’

‘friendly bunch.’ hawks snorts, and shoto just shakes his head with a smile.

‘they’re the best. i’m just trying to catch up.’ he admits, sounding sincere.

‘DON’T IGNORE ME, FUCKFACE!’

‘what are you doing around here anyway?’ shoto asks. ‘isn’t your office in a different city?’

‘yeah, i just came here to stretch my wings, take a walk.’ hawks says, ruffling his feathers a little for emphasis.

‘are you walking on your wings?’

‘n-no...?’

‘then how-’

‘WRAP IT UP NOW!’ at dynamight’s next shout, shoto visibly flinches. he seems more irritated than scared, at least to hawks.

‘i just wanted to thank you for helping my dad all those years ago.’ shoto says then, bowing his head a little. hawks takes it back, he doesn’t have an ounce of disrespect in his body. he’s just a little warped in the social area, and hawks has a fairly good guess where he gets that from. ‘i’ll be going now.’

‘wait, ah- how, how’s the old man?’ hawks tries to aim for anything but desperate. ‘i haven’t heard from him since the retirement.’

shoto looks at him thoughtfully, and those dual-colored eyes make hawks immeasurably nervous. he feels like he’s staring into his soul, opening up the secrets he’s got locked inside.

‘he’s well. i go home on weekends.’ shoto says, pulling up a notebook and a pen. ‘here’s the address. i think he’d appreciate the visit.’

the road to the todoroki estate was the most tiring one hawks had taken in a while. it’s not like it was far from where they met with shoto, but he spent the entire time worrying if he’s dressed well for the occasion, if he should just walk instead of flying to not get gross and sweaty - if endeavor will even let him in, or he’ll just pass by and get told off.

the house is huge, traditional, designed in classic enji taste. hawks could see the roof from a street away, almost walks into a lamppost while staring, his heart picking up the speed both from the scare and the nerves. his feet feel heavier with every step, walking down the street, finally getting to the gate-

and seeing todoroki enji, former number one hero, the feared endeavor sweep the walkway to his door, the scene way too casual to not send an already spring-up hawks into hysterics.

‘what the hell is that?’ hawks spits, laughter erupting from deep in his belly. the look on endeavor’s face just makes him shriek louder, his abs clenching with it. ‘is that- a fucking broom for ants, endeavor, you look so funny-’

‘can’t a man just do his chores in peace?!’ endeavor’s yelling now; sparks fly on his heated skin, and then they burst into flames.

‘now that’s the endeavor-san i know and love.’ he laughs, holding onto his own stomach, wiping his tears. endeavor’s face appears red under all that fire, he walks up to the gate to let him in.

‘what are you doing here, anyway?’ he mumbles, extinguishing himself as hawks walked in. he holds his broom under his armpit rather awkwardly, with the gracelessness of a man not quite used to doing the cleaning. hawks looks at him, observes: the slouch in his shoulders, the specks of grey in his stubble, the blush high on his cheek, the early wrinkles. he smiles to himself, reasons unknown, buried deep in a secluded part of his heart.

‘ran into your kid downtown, he said i should drop by and say hello.’ hawks lifts the nylon bags he’s been carrying, offers a lopsided grin. ‘i brought takeout.’

‘hmpft.’ endeavor is elaborate, as always. a man of few words and plenty actions, something hawks has always admired in him. ‘you can stay. only for the food.’

‘so you’re still very much hopeless in the kitchen, eh?’

‘don’t make me change my mind, brat!’

the house is huge on the inside, at least five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and dining room, and one living room all fit into one floor. all of it echoes from their steps, empty and lonely.

‘your boy said that he’s visiting you on weekend.’ hawks pries, shrugging his coat off as he hands over the bag. his fingers brush against endeavor’s fight-hardened, calloused ones and his heart feels like it could jump out of his chest again.

‘whenever he has the time. shoto’s a busy man.’ endeavor nods, his voice dripping with pride. hawks doesn’t need him to say any more to know how fond he is of his son. it makes him smile, actually. ‘why?’

‘and the rest of your family?’ he asks, a little more cautious.

‘i see rei and natsuo on holidays, and fuyumi usually spends her school breaks here.’ enji sets down the bag at the low table, grabs a pair of chopsticks from the dish rack. there are plates piled high there: it seems like he can clean up after himself, but refuses to put things away. hawks figures it’s pretty comfortable, considers that for a second before he realizes how much he can see into endeavor’s private life.

they sit down at the same time, and their eyes meet. ‘i’m not lonely.’ enji immediately turns defensive. there’s probably pity or sadness in hawks’ eyes, he wasn’t paying attention to his expression for a second.

‘i wasn’t suggesting you were.’

‘being alone is something i deserve. so i take my punishment with pride and strength.’ enji squares his shoulder, sitting up impossibly straight at his uncomfortable seat. he takes the boxes out, scatters them across the table for them to reach. no plates, though. ‘itadakimasu.’

they eat mostly in silence, warm, comfortable, and hawks can’t take his eyes off him. endeavor looks so casual, so approachable like this. he looks soft, in the slightly frayed sweatpants, a little weary from use, and the soft cotton shirt hugging his bulging muscles, stretching across his enormous shoulders. his face is a little thin, the wrinkles obvious on its unharmed half. from this close, hawks can see the grey hairs on his temple, too.

‘i’m looking for a place to stay.’ hawks announces once they’re finished eating. the look of surprise and something else - hope? no, it can’t be... - flashing across endeavor’s face startles him, but he’s not about to back down, now. ‘what-... ugh, how much do you think you’d rent out a room for?’

‘what?’ endeavor appears shell-shocked. ‘wh- why?’

‘well, because my apartment building is remodeling, and i’m pretty sick of living in the busier side of the city anyway. figured i’d change it up, move into the suburbs-’

‘that’s not what i’m asking.’ he snaps. ‘why me? don’t you have friends who’d let you stay with them?’

‘not anyone i’d like to move in with.’ hawks shrugs, playing with a few leftover grains of rice. ‘you know, i can cook, and i’m also willing to dry off and put away your damn dishes.’

‘hawks...’

‘c’mon, we can have sleepovers! i can braid your hair and you can braid mine. it will be fun!’

‘i can’t let you do that, hawks.’

‘okay, yes, i admit, your mane’s a little short for a proper french braid, but i can make do-’

‘hawks.’ enji’s voice booms. ‘no.’

‘you’ve known me for almost a decade, old man.’ hawks is talking back, suddenly fired up. ‘why won’t you just let me take care of you?’

‘because i’m a perfectly capable person who doesn’t need anyone to take care of them.’ he huffs, steam seeping from his nose. ‘and because i can’t let you do that to yourself.’

‘what, enji?’ he’s loud. is he shouting? he can’t tell.

‘waste your time on a bitter old man who isn’t worthy of you.’

now they’re pulling up the big guns. hawks deflates, props his head up on his elbows.

‘retired, but still on your self-deprecating bullshit.’ he sighs. ‘will you take it to the grave?’

‘hawks, i’m serious-’

‘and i’ve been serious, too. my entire life, about my feelings for you. you kept shaking me off, saying it wasn’t appropriate for someone your age dating someone so young, saying you were married, but all this time, i kept getting refused because you hate yourself too much to allow yourself to be loved?’

hawks doesn’t know when he stood up, but he’s falling to his knees beside enji now.

‘what kind of an asshole does that...?’ he whispers, staring right into enji’s fearful eyes.

‘an asshole who cares about you.’ enji murmurs, letting hawks hit him in the chest.

‘this isn’t “caring” about someone! this is just lying to yourself and keeping yourself from being happy!’ his fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘keigo-’ enji hisses, losing his balance and gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t fall against the other man.

‘tell me no.’ hawks proposes, his free hand coming up to cradle his jaw, so prickly and manly and strong, the shudder that ripples through him from the gentle touch, making him so weak and vulnerable. ‘no more running away, enji, no more games. tell me no right now, and i won’t ever bother you again.’

endeavor furrows his brows, the skin around his scar pulling grotesquely over his face with the struggle. he takes a deep breath, and hawks gets goosebumps as the hot air from the exhale hits his skin.

‘i can’t...’ enji whispers, and hawks can barely hear over the sound of his heart shattering. he starts to let go, but he forgets to breathe and move altogether as enji leans in instead, hand coming up to hold him close by the back of his head. ‘i can’t say no, not anymore...’

the first touch of lips against his have his insides flutter, almost working him into a panicked frenzy. he can only hope that enji can’t feel his heart beating in his throat as he kisses him, deep and desperate and oh so careful. hawks clings into him, lets him chase him for a change, holds on for the ride.

when they separate, hawks feels dizzy, drunk with heat and pleasure. enji looks just about as much present, he seems dumbfounded.

‘well, uh.’ he says, and hawks would kick anyone who says he doesn’t have a way with words.

‘i can come on thursdays and fridays.’ he offers, for now. ‘that way your kids can still have you on weekends.’

‘thanks.’ that’s all endeavor says before he pushes a few stray strands of hair back from hawks’ face, leans in for another kiss.

it’s a date, then.

#bnha #endhawks #anime #enho #todoroki enji #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #vmine #fluff #future fic #oh look at me not respecting my art and writing in a tumblr post again #oh but well i worked on it all afternoon so enjoy?#tododekubaku #if u squint lol #bakugo katsuki #midoriya izuku

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jbbarnesandnoble · 3 years

Text

Smitten For You: One-Shot

Pairing: Modern!Sam Wilson x Tall!Reader

Summary: Morning runs, snowball fights, puns and coffee dates :)

Warning(s): FLUFF, play fighting (do either of those need to be a warning? idk) BAD PUNS, I edited it once, but it’s 12:53am and I’ve been exhaused all day so that means nothing.

Word Count: 1,204

Prompt: when my friend pushed me into the snow the other day. but it wasn’t romantic cause we don’t like each other like that

A/N: hey! I wrote a thing! I hope you all like it :) I really, really had to fight the urge to write some angst. I wanted to, but I thought that fluff would be much better. In this fic, Sam is roughly 5′11 (180.34cm. I’m not sure how correct that is) and the reader is about an inch or two (25.4mm or 50.8mm) taller than he is. This is my first ever tall!reader fic, I hope you enjoy, please, if you would like, let me know what you think! I also plan on writing more in the future! I have a request for it with buck and wanted to test it out first :)

(not my gif)

Purple clouds cover the morning sky, colors of light and dark blue mix together as they greet the rising sun. A pale pink and orange hue blankets the horizon. A cold winter’s breeze blows, snow falls from the trees surrounding the small park. Classical music blasts from your headphones, your legs begin to grow heavy with each passing stride; your lungs burn and the cold nips at your nose.

Three more steps, you count, “One… Two... Three…” You continue to push one, three more, you think, lying to yourself again. Only this time your legs surrender to their exhaustion. The watch on your wrist beeps when you check how many miles you ran. It isn’t your personal best, but it’s close. Although, you find yourself disappointed considering you left a half-hour earlier than usual. You blame your unusually laggard pace on the cold. This early in the day it is still below freezing, it’s the kind of cold that reaches your bones and slows you down.

When you check the time, you find you have an hour to get ready for work, rather than your usual forty-five minutes. Maybe going out an extra half-hour early isn’t as bad you thought it would be. Except for having to get up earlier than usual. You and mornings are still far from being friends. The only thing that gets you through is coffee and runs. While stretching out your now sore muscles, someone taps on your shoulder. You pull out your headphones and spin around to find your fiance standing behind you, hands on his hips.

“You finally replaced me as your running partner, didn’t you?” Sam asks, an eyebrow raised and a crooked grin on his handsome face. You admire him for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the fact that he’s your person and you’re his. You bite back a smile.

Keeping a stern look, you tell him “Yup,” with a curt nod,

“I’m hurt,” He says, exaggerating placing a hand over his heart. Shrugging your shoulders, you begin the walk back to your apartment. He trails behind you like a lost puppy, his crooked grin remains on his lips.

A few moments pass as the two of you walks in comfortable silence. Snow from yesterday’s snowstorm litters the grass and branches of trees. You have always loved how the world looks after it snows. Everything feels fresh and new, it brings you a sense of comfort and peace. Another breeze blows and snowfalls from a tree above you, landing atop your head, an unexpected squeak escapes your mouth. The sensation sends a chill down your spine, despite still being hot from your morning run.

Sam stifles a snicker from behind you. Stopping in your track, you turn on your heels. Only to find him taking interest in the sky above. He stops too and steals a look at you from the corner of his eyes. He quickly returns his attention to the sky.

An idea pops into your mind while he’s distracted, you quickly grab a handful of snow and throw it at him, accidentally hitting him square in the face. Your mouth falls open and your cold hands fly to it. He always jokes you have a bad aim, which you deny, but he might be right this time. His hands mirror your own by covering his face where you had hit him.

You rush over to where he stands in two short steps, apologies falling repeatedly from your lips. Once next to him you ask, “Are you ok? I’m starting to agree that I suck at aiming.” You attampt at making a joke to lighten the mood. Though it doesn’t seem to work when he doesn’t tease you as you expected him to.

“Let me see,” You quietly request, placing your hand over his. His hand is much warmer in comparison to yours after touching snow with your bare hand.

He remains silent and worry begins to flood your chest. You feel horrible. Sam is always so light hearted about things, it takes a lot for him to get to this point. As you are about to apologize again, his hands fly from his face and his arms snake around your waist. You might be an taller than he is, but that doesn’t stop him from picking you up and dropping you into a pile of fresh snow. You squeak again, the noise even surprises you.

Shock settles onto your face. When you find his warm brown eyes, his carefree smile takes its rightful place onto his face. He laughs, relaxing his body next to yours in the snow pile. The coldness of the snow starts to sneak past your clothes and reaches your skin, you ignore it. You’re happy you chose to wear black today. At least no one will notice the giant wet spot on your back from the snow.

“You’re such a child, you had me worried I seriously hurt you!” You complain, sprinkling a little bit of snow onto his head. He returns the gesture by making a snowball and rubbing into your hair. You squint your eyes shut, allowing it to happen and knowing full well you deserved every bit of it. Relief replaces the worry you felt seconds before. You smile up at him.

“I’m the child? Is that’s how it is? ‘Cause you’re the one who started the fight, not me, you?” He teases you, while he flicks more snow onto your head.

“That’s how it is, babe.” You shrug your shoulders in the snow and place a quick kiss onto his nose. He laughs before standing up. His hand reaches out, waiting there for you to take if you need to. You don’t, but accept it for an excuse to hold his hand. Not that you need one, considering that you have been together for nearly three years.

Once you’re back onto your feet, he reaches up, brushing some of the snow off of your head. His hand is still wrapped around yours when you continue walking down the walkway side by side.

“Your hand’s cold.” He notes, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of knit mittens your mom made him for his birthday. He is gentle to take your hand back into his, he slips the glove onto your hands as gently as he grabbed them.

Unprompted he says, “I’m pretty smitten for you.” he laughs at his own pun, you smile.

“I’m snow in love with you.” You play along and you laugh with him this time.

As if the prior pun exchange never happened, he asks, “Coffee?” gesturing his head in the direction of a small coffee shop across the street.

Checking the time, you say, “Sure.” You lost a bit of time earlier, and if you stop now there is a chance you’ll be late for work. But you did tell your boss you might be late from the snow and being on time right now is less of a worry than is should be. Sam flashes you another grin before you cross the street. The scent of coffee already floods your lungs.

>>>>>>

A/N: this could easily be a crack fic, but it’s slightly off, it’s so close yet so far at the same time. This isn’t my best, but I’m honestly just impressed and happy I finished a fic in a day. I haven’t done that in ages. almost 2 years. also, the gif indicates summer, it's winter if the snow didn't give that away (yes i use sarcasim)

#modern!sam wilson x tall!reader #sam wilson x tall!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fanfiction #modern!sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fluff #tall!reader #modern!sam wilson #modern!au #marvel fanfiction #rae writes

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duskydestra · 3 years

Text

Finally on the Same Page

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: MomoMai/MaiMomo

Characters: Momo Nishimiya, Mai Zenin, Aoi Todo

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Canon-Typical Hijinks, Accidental Confession, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship

Summary: There's one question Todo asks everybody. Momo should've known her time was coming soon, but why did it have to be now?

(Prompt: "What kind of woman is your type?")

If you'd rather read on AO3, click here.

Stepping out into the afternoon sun, Momo stretched. The stiffness from being at her desk for so long finally loosened up after she popped a few joints. Exams were fast approaching, but Momo didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, she focused on the breeze, the sound of rustling leaves. Nearby, some chittering squirrels buried nuts along the walkway.

“Hey,” Mai said flatly. Just like that, she had Momo’s attention. “Please tell me you have something planned for the weekend. I can’t watch Miwa play Animal Crossing again.”

“Why not?”

“She cries when a villager moves away.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Momo lifted her arms above her head. The way Mai followed the movement brought a slight heat to Momo’s cheeks. “If you want, we could-”

“Nishimiya!” Todo’s booming voice called out from behind them.

Momo jolted, the distinct feeling of getting caught tangled in her ribcage. She turned to him, hesitant. “Yes?”

“You never answered my question.” He bent his knees as if he was about to charge right at her. “What kind of woman is your type?”

Mai cocked an arched brow and looked down at Momo.

A furious blush spread across Momo’s face down to her neck. She threw out a hand and called to her broom, hopping on it in record time. “Well, I gotta go! See you next week, okay?”

In one second, she was ready to take to the skies. By the next, she found herself standing in a patch of grass. A squirrel leapt off her broomstick and scurried up a tree. Momo reached for her broom again, but Todo clapped once more and it was at his feet.

He picked it up with an iron grip, threatening to snap it. “Stop trying to run and answer the question. I’m gonna give you ‘til the count of three. One.”

What would he do if she didn’t answer?

“Two.”

Unwilling to find out, she blurted out the first words she could think of. “Tall! Dark hair. Almond eyes. Wide hips.”

That was too much. That was definitely too much. The rush of nerves, regret, and fear made Momo want to never speak again. She felt the weight of Mai’s gaze on her, but she'd rather die than look that way, anxious about what she might see.

Todo looked up, considering her answer, then cracked a smile. “Not bad. I thought you were gonna say something like ‘Someone who makes me laugh.’”

Momo’s face burned. That would've been a safer answer. “Whatever. Can I have my broom back now?”

“Sure thing.”

He let go of it, allowing it to return to Momo. Briefly, she considered flying it into his face, but that fight wasn’t going to end well. While he sauntered back to the boys' dorm, Momo shuffled awkwardly back onto the walkway.

Mai smirked. “Wide hips, huh?”

“Please just leave it,” Momo groaned.

“Oh, I couldn't possibly.” Mirth danced in those almond eyes. There was a purposeful sway to her hips with each step, and Momo cursed herself for noticing. “You should know that by now.”

Momo sighed, accepting she'd never hear the end of this. They didn't keep things from each other, so of course she couldn't expect Mai to make an exception this time.

“If it makes you feel better, he asked me too.”

“What'd you say?” Momo steeled herself, guarding against disappointment.

Mai tapped her chin. “Oh, y'know. Someone cute, blonde, with nice big eyes and a pretty mouth. About yea high.” She placed her hand flat against the crown of Momo's head. “Not accounting for the hair, of course.”

Momo stopped in her tracks. When Mai pulled her hand away, it left a warm tingle in its absence. But nothing compared to the flush of heat blooming in Momo's chest.

“You said…huh?”

“You heard me. Make of it what you will.” Mai refused to put any inflection on the words, give them any color to help Momo intuit what she thought or how she felt.

Blonde brows drew together as Momo tried to force her brain to comprehend all this. But Mai didn't look back, prepared to keep walking, and panic rose within Momo.

On instinct, she threw her arms around Mai's midsection and pressed her cheek against Mai's back. “If that's how you felt, you could've just told me.”

“You're one to talk.” Mai placed her hands over Momo's.

“Yeah, yeah. But you're in luck.”

“Hmm. How so?”

Knowing her shaky voice would betray her, Momo cleared her throat. “If we go out, you don't have to spend the weekend with Miwa.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how could I say no?” Mai chuckled, long and low.

Momo's grin took up half of her face and got wider when she looked up to see Mai return it.

#MaiMomoWeek2021 #MomoMai #MaiMomo #Momo Nishimiya #Mai Zenin #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK #The Things I Write

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livelivefastfree · 3 years

Note

have you been working on any new fics?? (your stories are wonderful, ive drowned myself in polyburners thanks to you 😔 its a good place to be)

Not really anything new, although I’ve been picking away at some older ones that I never finished! Namely the plot-heavy sequel to my telepathic soul-bond superhero AU, the intimidatingly complicated sequel to Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon, and my Burnerswap AU where the villains are all our new Burners and the Burners are villains.

Unfortunately since I’m a nurse work has been kind of stressful recently and also my brain only likes to focus on one thing at a time which is currently original novel things. So process is pretty slow, haha. But I’m glad I could bring more people into the polyburners fold!

I do feel bad that I haven’t had the energy to post much for a while; revamping my burnerswap doc is the most recent thing I’ve gotten work done on, so here’s a little bit of scene-setting!

Deluxe is a mass of spires and platforms, shimmering in the sunshine outside Red’s window. Red stares up at the ceiling, at the pale golden glow of sunlight on the pale polymer. He can hear the sound of someone loudly imitating an electric guitar, and faint thumps and thuds through the wall; Duke is taking his traditional lengthy shower and using up all their precious hot water. From the smells drifting up from downstairs, Jacob is already up and in the kitchen experimenting. Kaia is probably upstairs on the roof, tending to her plants, and Abraham had to go back down to the undercity last night. His absence is a hole; no sound of him talking to Jacob in the kitchen, working out irritatingly on Red’s balcony, yelling at Duke for using up the water. There’s always something slightly off, a little bit wrong, when part of their team is missing.

Red sits up, buckles his patch on over the remnant of his left eye, and pushes himself up out of bed to see what’s for breakfast.

Jacob is stirring something in a pan when he Red arrives. There’s a heaping basket of miscellaneous vegetables on the counter next to him, so probably Red’s in for some kind of veggie abomination this morning—but it’s a veggie abomination Red doesn’t have to make and then burn, and he doesn’t really have a sense of taste anymore, anyway. Red drops into a chair, and Jacob piles up a plate of fried vegetables and sets it wordlessly down in front of him.

It’s quiet for a while. Red eats as much as he can manage, and Jacob knows him well enough not to frown when Red has to push the plate away half-eaten.

“Quiet night?” he says, eventually.

“All quiet in the pit,” Red says, and goes to the cooler to fish out a nutrient shake instead. “No calls from Abraham. No alerts, no bots, no Dragon.”

“Mm.” Jacob shakes his head, making an unconvinced grumbling noise. “They’ll come. They always do.”

Red can’t argue that. He stayed on the edge of the platform until the small hours of the morning, looking down into the dark city far below, watching every gleam of light and flicker of movement, waiting for the first flash of red glass eyes or matte metal claws.

The others drift downstairs eventually, one at a time; Duke grimaces at the vegetable mess, but Kaia piles in with every sign of enjoyment. Red sits back and listens to Jacob and Duke bicker, Kaia’s laughing jabs at both of them indiscriminately, and lets the sunlight soften some of the harsh, nauseated fatigue.

He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to drift off, but when his comms light up red with an urgent chime, it startles him badly enough he almost drops his drink.

“Come in,” Abraham’s voice says, flat and low. “Red.”

“Copy,” says Red, and pushes himself up, already moving. The rest of his team reorders around him, Jacob heading for the garage, Duke and Kaia immediately running for their rooms, their weapons. Red picks up his gloves, feeling the circuitry inside thrum hotly against his palms. “Incoming?”

“How did you guess,” says Abraham dryly. “Three Climbers. Two on North Side, one coming up from the East. And she’s sending up the Dragon.”

Red falters in mid-step, then growls and heads down the staircase to the garage, taking the steps two at a time. “Can you make it up?”

“I can try,” Abraham says, but Red knows that tone to his voice, rough and grim. “I think she’s targeting the medical complex on platform 18. Don’t get distracted.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Red says, and Abraham gives a brief bark of a laugh and then cuts the call.

Deluxe looks beautiful in the sunlight, if beauty is something to pay attention to; Red has seen it a thousand times, growing up from the old undercity of Detroit like an indescribably huge tree made of silver and marble. The platforms that make up the city itself look almost fragile from a distance, hovertech and superlight polymers, gleaming with solar panels and greenery. The massive support structure that holds the city up grows dirtier and more patchwork as it descends into the bristling thicket of ancient, blocky concrete buildings.

Whole civilizations have made their homes on the platforms along that winding trunk. Around its base, built onto the rooftops of old skyscrapers, Red can see the distant gleam of the Casino King’s sprawling compound, gaudy with red and gold floodlights. There are urban legends about an entire lost city, one that made its living in among the building-sized struts and cables themselves, before some unspecified calamity cut all communication with them short.

Some of the midway settlements are against Kane, some of them are only indifferent, but Red can only assume that trying to bargain her way through was too much trouble. Kane took matters into her own hands, and had her R&D invent the Climbers.

Red has eyes on one of them now; a long, low shape, slinking across the platform. Six-legged, with four glowing eyes each, moving with an unnerving, artificial grace—the mechanical nightmare-offspring of a wolf and some kind of insect. The tips of their claws hum faintly, lit up—plasma-cutter edges, sharp enough to sink into the polymer like hot knives through butter. Red is a platform above them, out of their field of vision, but he’s seen the way the things scale vertical surfaces, faster than anything that size should be able to move.

As Red watches, one of them opens its mouth, showing hundreds of needle-sharp fangs lit hellish red from the inside, and lets out an awful, scraping snarl.

“I’ve got eyes on one,” Red says, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, we see ‘em over here too,” Duke says, tight and sharp with bravado. “Easy. Let’s get it done!”

“I’ve got your back,” Kaia says. “Let’s show these things what—”

“Hey, Red,” says a voice, and something taps Red on the shoulder. “Tag.”

The moment of shock is enough to freeze Red in place for a single fraction of a second, and that’s a hesitation he can’t afford. A blunt edge slams into his ribs, knocks him over off his feet; he rolls, comes up on his feet again and sends out a blind shockwave of energy—throws himself to one side as a staff sweeps past where his ankles were, and this time when he lashes out he feels the impact strike true.

The Dragon of Detroit takes the hit and lets it bowl him backwards, turns the motion into a back-handspring and comes to a skidding halt, shaking overgrown brown bangs out of his dark eyes. He’s laughing, smiling as wide and wild as he always does; the deep scar that stretches crookedly from his cheekbone to his chin twists his smile into something just slightly crooked and bitter, but his laugh sounds irritatingly, insultingly genuine.

“Chilton,” Red snarls, and the man spins his staff behind his back and sweeps a bow, grinning.

“I’m guessing you’re not interested in doing this the easy way, kid,” he says, and Red clenches his fists, lightning crawling up his arms. “Yeah, I didn’t figure. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“The fuck I can’t,” Red snaps, and Chilton huffs out a breath and shakes his head, ever-present smile never fading. “If you really cared about not hurting anybody you wouldn’t be working for that—”

It’s the flicker of Chilton’s eyes that gives it away, and the faintest sound of scraping metal; Red dives to one side on instinct, just in time to avoid the snap of jagged metal jaws and six sets of wickedly-clawed feet. He comes up swinging, lands a few solid hits; the Climber shrieks as one of its legs spasms and cracks, red lightning and dented metal grinding in one of its back legs.

“Backup!” Red snaps into his comm, and then there’s only the fight.

He’s being distracted, he knows it even while it’s happening, but he can’t break his focus away long enough to care. Chilton is gone, he has to be raiding that medical compound, and Red is stuck here, fighting some stupid robot—

“Heads up!” yells a voice, and Red glances up and then back-pedals abruptly as a huge, blocky shape comes rocketing off the next platform up and drops like a comet onto the Climber’s head. The back half of the bot gives a meaty crunch as Jacob’s construction rig lifts back off of it, leaking nasty, thick, black fluid as it tries to drag itself forward on its two remaining legs; Red steps forward, grimacing in distaste, tears a dented plate away and buries his hand in the things neck to deliver one final, merciless jolt. The Climber whirrs, gives a gurgling growl, and finally goes still.

“Jumpin’ Josephat,” says Jacob, from inside the clunky, ugly cube he calls a hovercar. “You still in one piece down there?”

“Where’s Chilton?!” Red says, and then jerks and looks up at the sound of a laugh, echoing off the white walls and walkways around them.

The Dragon is standing at the very edge of the platform, silhouetted against the sky; he makes eye contact with Red, brief and grinning, one hand on the side of a stolen transport pod. Then he throws off a brief, mocking salute, and launches himself backwards off the edge of the platform into thin air, vanishing over the edge.

“Criminy,” says Jacob weakly, because Jacob is an 80-year-old man in a 20-year-old body.

“Fuck,” Red hisses, and slams a fist down on the ground, leaving lightning-jagged scorch marks across the white polymer. Takes a few breaths and repeats, “…fuck,” soft and hoarse, poisonous in his mouth.

“Yeah,” says Jacob, and his boots thump softly as he slides down, his hand settles carefully on Red’s shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the others.”

#AltU: Burnerswap #the work on the SAHRAD sequel is mostly planning because the content itself needed a structure before I could actually start #I'm ngl there's enough work involved in finishing that one that I don't know how/if I'm going to be able to get it done #but I'd like to #the superhero one is actually like #WAY closer to being finished than either of them #but the remaining stuff is stuff that I'm having trouble cleaning up and closing so I'm stalled out SIGH #oh man tho when I finish it up...THE DRAMA......#Anonymous

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 15

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because HELLO NEW SPOOKY FRIEND

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, and Tavra have traveled to the Caves of Grot to find a magic firca that will help them warn all Gelfling about the Skeksis. A Grottan gives them a startle by lurking above a tunnel entrance.

Chapter 15

Kylan and Naia meet with Maudra Argot

"Shadowling,” Tavra growled.

“Silverling,” the strange Gelfling replied, with a casual but equal distaste.

Huh! Time for more Gelfling prejudice.

Its hinted at later this chapter why the Grottan might be annoyed at a Vapran but I have no idea why the Vapran would have strong feelings about the Grottan.

So let’s get a look at our new friend, Amri.

Pulling back his hood, his skin was pale like moonlight, with silky silver hair like Tavra’s, shaved on one side and falling to his shoulder on the other. Had Kylan seen him aboveground, he might have mistaken him for a Vapra - except for his eyes. With his face hidden by the shadow of his hood, Kylan had at first thought he had no eyes at all. Now he could see two, large and black, with no whites in them. It was like looking into one of the inky ponds that dappled the cave’s basin floor.

He had to be Gelfling, based on the shape of his face and body but he held himself differently. Like a river plant, Kylan thought, or maybe even an eel or fish, eerily graceful as he gazed down on them with an unreadable expression. His movements were as fluid as if he were underwater, slow and seamless.

Maybe that’s why the Vapran and Grottan don’t like each other.

They both want to be the pale, white-haired pretty Gelfling clan and are like ‘one of us is going to have to change.’

Speaking of change, I wonder what did between the books and the show.

In the show, the Grottan have a greenish tint to their skin, like the Drenchen. On the topic, Spriton have darker skin in the YA continuity compared to the show. Not a big deal, things got changed around between show and books but I’m wondering if this was a case where the books were working off an earlier version of the series bible.

Having the Grottan be super pale actually does make a lot of sense, since they live in caves. Cave-dwelling creatures tend to be pale because they don’t need as much protection from light.

Naia introduces the group, although omits Tavra’s title since there’s already animosity without it being known she’s the All-Maudra’s daughter.

Amri just stares at the introductions then tells the group to follow him.

Kylan looked up as they passed through the center of the cavern, losing count of the tunnel entrances and walkways. Now that the silence had been broken, eh saw silhouettes of other Grottan Gelfling stepping out of the shadows, gathering in groups of twos and threes on the ledges to watch them pass. They were all ghostly, clothing in black cloaks like their guide. Only their faces, hands, and bare feet showed, slipping in and out of the shadows like starlight.

Ah, so that’s where the whispers were coming from. The peanut gallery.

Naia asks if this is really the Caves of Grot, which Amri confirms but says that the Grottan call it Domrak which Kylan translates as “Place-in-Shadows.”

“A fair translation in the common tongue. Others have called it the Cave of Obscurity. Land-in-Darkness. Hole in Ground. Either way, grot means crypt. Though in truth, nothing has died here.”

I love that one of its names is just. Hole in Ground. Hee.

Kylan decides that Domrak means home, not just place.

Home-in-Shadows has a nice ring to it.

But if grot means crypt, then Caves of Crypt. Which sounds weird.

And could you translate, Grottan as cryptid? Heh.

Amri takes them up a long spiraling stairway and like other parts of the cave, it is just lousy with dream-etching. Kylan reads bits and pieces of stories as they climb.

They reach a triangular archway carved to look like a colony of hollerbats, which sounds amazing. Amri goes in to speak with Maudra Argot and when he pops back out he says that Kylan and Naia can come in but Tavra has to wait outside.

Tavra snorted through her nose, and Kylan wished she hadn’t. If they wanted to gain the trust and alliance of every clan, they would have to be respectful, even if they did not get the same respect in return. Shouldn’t a daughter of the All-Maudra know better diplomacy? Huffing, she turned away and crossed her arms.

“I have no interest in paying respects to a Shadowling bat, anyway,” she said, turning her nose up. “Be quick about it.”

“Don’t start any fights,” Kylan said. “Please.”

Hope springs eternal, Kylan.

The maudra chamber has exposed crystal veins lacing the walls, but with the crystal still showing as clear and pure. The Darkening hasn’t seemed to reach this deep. Possibly the tree protecting them, as in the show.

Seated on the stone floor, cross-legged, was an old Gelfling woman. Her wings were sheer, almost completely transparent, draped out behind her like a crystalline pool. Her eyes were black, like all the Grottan, but bore the mark of time. Her kind, wrinkled face might have seen more than one ninet - if the greater seasons even affected the Grottan clan, so deep in the earth.

Apparently, a ninet is roughly one hundred trine. Wow!

Kylan and Naia very politely introduce themselves.

“It must be important, indeed, for daylighters to bother making the journey into the so-feared Grot. Amri here tells me you have a Vapra with you as well. Has the great Mayrin finally invited us to the Silverling capital? Ho ho hoo! Don’t answer that. I know it is not true. So tell me, children, why do you stray from the daylight?”

She seems fun. I like her.

And reasonably enough, the Grottan dislike the Vapran because the Vapran tend to pretend they don’t exist. Rude.

Kylan tells Maudra Argot that they’re looking for the firca of Gyr the Song Teller and that he read in a book that it was entrusted to the Grottan.

“Oh yes! That. What do you want with Gyr’s bone firca?”

“You have it here?” Kylan cried, forgetting all formality. “It’s real?”

“Of course it’s real. How else did you think all that dream-etching got on the walls? All of us can read here, of course, but it would have taken a whole ninet to do just half the caves the regular way. We don’t have time for that. Yes, yes, the firca is real. It is in the Tomb. Ho ho! But I’m not going to just hand it over to you younglings without an explanation first. Why do you need it? What will you do with it? And so on.”

Score one for a random story you read in a random book!

Of course, they now have the problem of explaining why they need it. If Argot is loyal to the Skeksis, they could be in big trouble. Heck, if she’s like Maudra Fara and just afraid to act, she might refuse to help.

The best way would be for Naia to dreamfast with Maudra Argot to show what she had seen. A conclusion that Naia also immediately comes to.

“Then dreamfast with me. I will show you what I’ve seen. You can decide whether it’s an explanation or not.”

“So you think I’ll trust your memories, no matter what they are?” Maudra Argot asked, tilting her head in the other direction. When she got a confused, uncomfortable silence in reply, she cackled again. “Ho! Don’t answer that, either. I am not afraid of your dreams, little Drenchen. Show me, and we will see where they lead us.”

Hey remember when I said it’d be boring to watch Kylan watch someone else dreamfast and that’s why he had to do it with Rian instead of Naia?

Well, I was wrong. Watching someone else dreamfast takes like a couple seconds.

The maudra let out a long grave hmmmmm.

“You have the gift of dreamfast, that is for certain,” she said. “Never have I seen dreams so vividly... It was almost as if I had my eyes back! Ho ho hoo! What a delight you are, my Drenchen daughter.”

Naia repeats some of the information aloud for Amri’s benefit and says they need the firca to warn all Gelfling.

“The Stonewood will be first, until the forest is empty of their tales and noisy dances. Then the Spriton to the south. Perhaps they will go west next, to the Crystal Sea - perhaps north, to take the capital itself. It is only a matter of time before they come for us, I suppose, even if we are the discarded relish on the banquet tray. Ho ho hoo!”

She described an ugly future, but her chuckle was so light, it was almost the giggle of a youngling.

“Nothing but a garnish on top of a Vapra delicacy!” Amri added. The comment sent the old maudra into a new fit, her little body shaking with laughter.

What a fun, weird old lady.

Kylan and Naia are uncomfortable with how funny she finds the extinction of the Gelfling clans and just sit quietly. Kylan reflects that maybe the situation is so horrible, that there’s nothing to do but laugh but can’t bring himself to join.

“Ho ho ho hooo! Oh, don’t sound so quiet. We’re not making light of the situation. This old maudra has heard many trine come and go. Just when I think I’ve heard it all, the Skeksis surprise me with something new and cruel. I can’t help but think Thra is telling a wicked song-for-laughs... Or maybe it is me who is old and mad and laughing when there are no jokes being told.”

Think about being so old that you think you know everything the world can throw at you and then hearing the most horrible thing you never knew.

I guess maybe all you can do is laugh.

Although, she’s a pretty laughy individual anyway.

Unsure of how to react to any of that, Naia just does Drenchen hard-talk and directly asks for the firca. And adds that its important that the Gelfling come together to resist the Skeksis because they won’t be able to do anything if they’re at odds.

“We Grottan have remained out of the affairs of the daylighters; ours was a different burden to bear, here in Domrak. But you are right. The Skeksis will never want the essence of an old maudra like me, but my children... even the lazy ones like Amri. We are all Gelfling. I’ll give you the firca. I’ll even give you Amri. He will show you to the Tomb of Relics and then go with you to Ha’rar on behalf of our oft-forgotten clan.”

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!

New party member!

Amri is less thrilled than I am, protesting that he doesn’t want to hang out with snooty snoots in Ha’rar but Argot tells him to suck it up. She already knows that he sneaks out of the caves to gather alchemy ingredients and she’s tired of his disruptive experiments.

“Take your maudra’s offer, and come back when you are grown.”

Sweet dunk on Amri.

Then she picks up her weaving which is a polite indication that the conversation is over so Naia and Kylan leave, followed by Amri. Although they hear Argot talking to herself as they leave.

“Damned Skeksis. Your time has come, at long last. Ho ho hoo...”

This was a very productive meeting!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Tavra #Amri #Maudra Argot

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

Text

Quit Playin

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut that makes you go huh?

This is my submission to @sonofnjobu WIP Fic Fest. It’s been sitting in my drafts for a little over a minute and I just hope it comes across as entertaining for you! Its setup is Yahya having the game from his Black Mirror episode and the things that occur because of it.

"It's not like that, i swear!" Yahya exclaims with a laugh he tries but cannot mask..

"Then what is it like!” You screech at him, wiping your face of the stray tear you hate. You aren’t gonna cry about this shit, you swear. But stress makes you teary regardless. “Cuz it seems like you don’t wanna be bothered with a damn thing about me!”

Yahya stares at you for a beat, leaning against the countertop in his relaxed olive green collared shirt tucked into his dark khaki slacks. With his little TWA, he looks like a vintage ad for Fridgaire appliances, square in the middle of a Sears Roebuck catalogue.

“I don’t NOT want you…” He says slowly with too much emphasis on the ‘not’. This revs you up more.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? You out here doing shoots and shit all day everyday, no you’re back it’s like you on a whole other planet! Is it Nicole Beharie? Cuz I don’t blame you, I would even go after that but fucking tell me!”

Yahya purses his lips together, silently cupping his hands in front of them. He stands up straight and meanders over to you, kissing the top of your forehead.

Your palms smack his biceps, pushing him back off of you. “You not about to distract me, I’m serious!”

Yahya scoffs, rubbing his tender arms. “I see, ok! What else are you planning on doing to me to get my attention?”

You let out an exasperated yell. “Oh, nigga if you only knew what the fuck was going on in my head, you wouldn’t be tempting me.”

Yayha claps his hands twice, firmly planting his feet where he stands and bends over so his torso is almost parallel to the ground, facing you with his arms behind his back.

“Go ahead.”

You put your hands on your hips, pacing the floor. “Don’t fuck with me right now.”

“You have my full and undivided attention. And a face free for you to smack, and you talking yourself down? That’s disappointing, I gotta say.”

“But to what extent do I gotta go to get you here? How long have I asked you for this time? And now I’m angry, so this time is fucking worthless to me. I wanna chill with you, see shit, do new shit, not sit and the house and argue over you and your video games! Fucking hate whoever let you take that from the set.”

Yahya straightens up again, giving his lower back a little rub. “You wanna play me?”

You turn on him quicker than a blink. “You know I don’t give a damn about video games! If I wanted to play a game, I’d say ‘Yah, lemme play real quick. They got 2 player?’ But I haven’t! You know why? Cuz they dumb, repetitive and too complicated for me to find time learning worth it!”

Yayha walks down to the living room, like you haven’t said anything, toward the TV cabinet. “Oh, I see the problem.”

Walking over to the plush sectional, you plop down feeling imminent defeat. “You’re not listening to me at all, I can’t understand you.”

Yahya pulls out a small box, closing the cabinet and turning on the TV. “You just have to see me play, one time.”

He sits next to you, pulling out two clear dots from their container. “Here.”

He holds one in each of his hands out in front of him, eyes wide in expectation of you. If he was wearing black glasses and a trench coat, you’d think he was practicing for a Matrix reboot. You stare from his long hands to him, and back again, feeling yourself begin to soften. Maybe you could try bonding his way, just this one time.

You snatch one out his hands. “Gimme this shit. You stick em on your forehead or what?”

Yahya chuckles as you gets his pair out and puts them on. “You know I don’t have a damn dot on my forehead when I do this. Put it on the side of your face, in line with your eye kind of.”

Once you have the dot placed he takes his controller and pushes a few buttons to navigate to the Start screen.

“Now when I hit Start, we bout to be in the game for real.” Yahya looks over at you all wide eyed like he’s teaching a toddler how to hold their breath underwater.

“...nigga just push the damn button. I don’t get why you makin such a hu-”

You don’t get to finish you sentence before your mind begins to be sucked into a vortex that leaves you catatonic, body falling limply backward against the couch alongside of Yahya’s.

Before you know it, your eyes become accustomed to your surroundings. Looking around, you see many trees, vibrantly green and full of cherry blossoms blowing in the wind. The nearby waterfall fills your ears as your mind races to make sense of things.

“What th-”

“Hey! Whatchu think?!” A voice behind you yells. Your head whips around to see a woman in a blonde wig and an outfit that looked cute but avant garde enough to make you question your safety regarding their mental state.

You swallow hard. “I-I don’t know, I’m just tryna find my man.”

She huffs, working her hands in a circle creating a ball of energy before squatting in a fighting stance. “You’re the only man I see around here.”

You scoff. “I am NOT a man, girl, get your eyes corrected.” You go to do a hair flip for emphasis and find none on your shoulder. You feel the top of your head, expecting to find your wig gone, but you feel neither cap nor curl, only some bone straight short cut you have never had. When your hand shoots to your mouth in shock, the color makes you snatch it back again as it was not your shade of skin. Your hand looked meaty and was wrapped in tape. Your eyes travel to look down at your biceps, hulking and veiny. Strips of cloth hang of your broad shoulders and where titties once were, are now ample pectorals.

“Wh-what the fuck?? Who am I??”

The woman in front of you laughs. “You should see what you look like right now. Scared of your own body...when you should be scared of me.”

Without warning, she sails her energy orb at you, making you put your hands up without thinking. The force of her blow pushes you back making your feet slide against the rocky walkway you stand on. Your eyes slowly open as your heart pounds from the excitement.

The woman laughs, placing her hand on her hip in casual amazement. “Huh! I thought you didn’t pay attention when I played this game.”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Wait…”

She nods, holding her arms out in a flourish. “Isn’t this cool!? We in the game baby! You see why I can’t stay out of it?”

She smiles widely, running towards you, quicker than humanly possible and takes your hand. “We can walk around and everything. Check this water out. It’s wet AND cold.” She dips down to wave her fingers in the nearby resevoir.

You still standby in amazement, slowly becoming accustomed to the situation. “Yahya?”

She looks back at you giving a nod that despite the racial and gendered differences, really reminded you of him. “It’s me baby. Come feel this water, ain’t it nice?”

You put your hands up. “No way. This is some Harry Potter/Neo bullshit that my Christian ass ain’t here for. Put me back in real life right now!”

Yahya’s character stands up, wiping their hands off on their costume before popping their knuckles. “What if this was my plan all along? Get you in here, and just...stay? Forever?”

You tighten your jaw, balling up your fists. “No way in hell would you do that.”

Yahya looks at you stone faced and still. “Well…”

“YAHYA!” You shout at him, losing every ounce of patience.

Finally they laugh, holding their stomach for emphasis. Another Yahya-ism. “I’m playing babe, you cute when you mad but it’s ridiculous as a dude. We not stuck here forever, I promise. You just gotta say the magic words and we out. Simple.”

You nod fiercely. “Ok, and? What are they?”

Biting their lip, Yahya says, “I’ll tell you...but you gotta fight me for it.”

“Pssh, boy come on and quit playing I’m ready to be done and here you go. I ain’t fighting.”

“You sure?” They shrug, walking towards you to poke your arm. “I mean, you could probably beat me easily. You a big strong dude. I’m the female here, so you got advantage.”

You swipe at them. “I’m not falling for that. You know how to play this game, that’s the problem!”

They reach out to ruffle up your hair. “You beat my ass mashing buttons before, just do that.”

You whip your head back, stepping away with your hands up defensively. “Aight, I’m sick of you pissing me off lately anyway. Come on with it, BITCH.”

The venom in your curse makes Yahya character smile as their hands swirl in a creating an energy orb. You run up on them, sailing through the air with a kick that travels their torso to their face, causing them to stumble.

You feel pretty good until you hear that damn laugh.

“Go off, baby! That was cute!” Yahya bites their lip, stomping the ground that loosens a rock in the pavement right under your feet, knocking you off balance. As you fall through the air, Yahya, sends fists and feet under your back 3, 4, 5, and 6 times until you fall down, clutching your back in pain.

“Fuck! What the hell you do all that for? I knew your bitch ass wouldn’t fight fair.” You curse as the pain begins to subside.

Yahya walks over shaking their head as the blonde hair falls on their face. “It doesn’t last, the pain. I could literally break all your shit, and never have to worry cuz it mends in like three seconds.” They hold their hand out to you to help you up. “You oughta feel fine now. I’ll leave you be if you done though, my bad.”

You sit up and take a deep breath. Just like he said, you feel brand new before you even exhale. You look up at them in their outfit: waist snatched, thighs strong and wrapped in elaborate garters, titties sitting high in their corset leather one piece.

“So now you kicking my ass, and you pick a character finer than me?”

They chuckle, squatting over you. “No way in hell do any fake shit come close to you baby. For all it’s worth, I’m glad I got you here to experience this with me. Complaining be damned.”

Having caught your breath, you feel this pull inside of you that brings your heart to a racing pace. A tug from within you never felt before but it made you ravenous for mischief. As you grabbed their hand, you in turn flipped into a somersault carrying them through the air onto the stone path beneath you both. Yahya gasps, having the wind knocked out of them but you don’t ease up. Before Yahya could get to standing, you straddle them using your newly acquired man weight to pin them down and send a fury of fists into their face. You feel like you’re watching a movie instead of experiencing it firsthand, but the comical pace of blows as Yahya’s character head bops back and forth like a speed bag made this whole experience worth it. That is until a pair of knees hit your back.

As you fly forward, you land face first and before their strong thighs come around your waist and an arm around your neck.

You feel your consciousness beginning to fade. “Yah….”

They breathe heavy in your ear. “Say Uncle.”

You raise your hand off the ground but it feels like a 100 lb weight. “I can’t-”

“Nah actually, say Daddy.” Even as a woman, his chuckle rang true, making you livid. You gather as much strength as you can muster to bring yourself to all fours, in a kind of parasitic piggyback ride. Their grip tightens as you move, but suddenly a force fills you. You grip the ground underneath you, clawing your nails into the stone as the energy boils.

“Come on, say-” Before Yahya could answer your back arches as a howl comes from deep within and your eyesight turns white. You hear a wretched thud behind you and use it to follow your prey. Yahya’s character sits limply against a boulder as you bound toward them lifting their head to make room for your hand against their throat. They feel weightless in your hand as you raise them up higher and higher as their feet hovers above the ground. Yahya’s character opens their eyes and you step closer to them, nose to nose as you grip their neck.

“How’s that feel now, Daddy?” You say, hearing yourself with a manly tone of voice sent shivers down your spine as you held control. Your muscles flex under your authoritative hold, arousing your interest at its highest point since you got in the game

Yahya’s hands grip your bicep as they wrap their legs around your waist tightly. “It feels...alright,” he chokes out with a small grin.

You snort as you study the face of his character: cheekbones riper than autumn apples, flush from the fight. They keep licking their lips and stroking your bicep before you notice the slow grind against your pelvis.

Yahya continues. “You wanna beat me up some more?”

Your grip weakens when a new sensation crops up between you two. It’s not like anything you’ve known before. Your mind kept getting distracted from the task at hand.

“Is the fight...over? Did you hit pause or- something?” You stutter as your hips move before your can think about it, making a gasp slip from your mouth. The soft warmth that rubbed against your groin was so tempting.

Your hand comes off their neck and rests against the rock you had Yahya’s character pinned against.

“It ain’t over until we say it is.” The character’s voice is raspier, breathy. You run your nose and lips across their clavicle. Their hand reaches for the sash keeping your pants up.

You wince as the fabric feels tighter in front. “I don’t feel so good. It’s like I’m cramping up or something.”

Yahya’s character bites their lip, shaking their head. “You ok, that’s just how it is for guys. Getting hard is fucking torture til you find something to do with it.”

As their hand reaches for it, you feel a sharp shock to your nerve endings, making you seize up and grip their thighs hard.

“Ohhh shit, why’d you do that?” You wail.

Their grip tightens as their hand runs the length of your shaft. “It’s ok, I swear it’s gonna feel nice.”

“It’s not that, I just...I don’t wanna wait no more.” You growl primitively as you find the garments between their legs and rip it apart, exposing herself to you.

“Fuck, babe, slow down!” Yahya’s character exclaims, grabbing onto your shoulder in surprise.

The whole lead up is a blur. You couldn’t think about what you were doing as a guy figure about to manhandle a woman who also happens to be your boyfriend because nothing would satisfy you more than diving into that pussy at that moment. You pull you character’s dick out with ease, lining up your head to their opening.

“Shit, Yahya. You better breathe bitch.” You scoff holding onto your member to ready yourself. Yahya’s characters breathing and moans in anticipation stoked your fire, making you way less patient for foreplay. Soon as you felt wetness, X marked the spot.

When you began to enter them, you swore your mind just went to another dimension besides the one you currently were in. You felt like you just flew into the center of a hot honey butter roll on Thanksgiving night while sopping up the leftover gravy. The warmth around you followed by the heartbeat of the pussy around your dick sent your knees to buckle.

“Fuuuck.” Yahya’s character exclaims as you push into them every inch you can must before hitting a barrier, making Yahya’s character tense up.

“It’s ok, go ahead.” He reassures you, kissing your neck and jaw while rubbing your back.

You needed no other encouragement as you pulled your hips back and began to swim. The sounds of you churning them out became your applause, goading you.

“You feel...like a fucking payday...a day early…” You gasp as your senses reach their peak. It felt so good, but you still didn’t feel peace. If anything, the more you stroked, the more erratic you became. You searched the rock for a grippable surface and when none was found you turned to their character instead. You wrapped your arms around their back, putting them into a bear hug as you bounced them off your thighs, gaining deeper access.

Yahya’s character is a blubbering mess, beggin you to go harder, deeper, faster, and that was a challenge you refused to back away from. You wanted them to feel you entirely, smacking their ass when they got too quiet, pulling their hair when they seemed too tired, picking up the pace when they were becoming too dominant. Nothing was going to keep you from waxing the whole level with their ass.

As any superhero, you began to grow weary. The ferocity that consumed you began to falter as a wave of pressure built in you, making you nervous.

“Yah, I’m feeling something different.” You moan as your stomach tightens up, feeling a throbbing pressure.

Character hair in disarray, Yahya pushes it back, speaking between gasps. “You about to cum, babe?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know, I don’t usually feel like this when I do.”

“It’s different as a guy....don’t fight it. That will hurt, promise you.”

You nod as you close your eyes, feeling them tighten around you even more.

“You feel so good in me baby, let me have all of you. I want it all baby, fill my pussy up baby.” Yahya kept giving you erotic Hallmark message to let you know just how they needed it. The pressure became overwhelming and like a lightning striking a tree, the roll of thunder barreling from your balls up your shaft and out left you stiff as a board. Your toes curled as you felt yourself being pumped dry as Yahya’s character squealed in satisfaction, hugging you tightly. You felt yourself move, but no more than a snail’s pace, out of fear you may fall over from weakness. Your sensitivity heightened you didn’t dare try to continue, opting to pull out once you felt yourself finish, putting Yahya’s character down before falling to your knees. Yahya’s character laid out right next to you, smiling joyfully.

“And THAT’s why I can’t get enough of this game. You experience shit you can’t in the real world. I never thought I’d get you to do that.”

You huff looking over at them. “That was so damn different...YOu never let me lead like that before...And you were so….vocal.”

They shrug. “I can’t help it when I’m like this. Female orgasms are damn drugs. My whole body lights up, and I don’t feel like vampire just took my soul after. Without a doubt good shit.”

You put your stuff back in your pants in awe of what just happened. “And I never knew I could take over you like that. Like...I was you just now. And you were me.”

Yahya smirks. “Exit game,” disappearing.

You look around in a panic. “Uh, EXIT GAME!”

Your body lurches forward as you catch your breath, feeling Yahya rubbing you back.

“You alright? It’s over I promise.” He says with concern. “I didn’t mean to shake you up like that.”

You feel relief hearing his real voice turning to give him a big hug, almost knocking him backwards.

Yahya’s laughs muffle into your shoulder. “Damn baby. Some of the game ain’t left you.”

You lean back and peer into his face. “I don’t want that part to leave me just yet.”

Yahya blinks in amazement as he grips your waist. “That didn’t turn you off from me? With the characters and me being a girl in there and-”

You shake your head. “It just showed me how much I can do to you and how good you can make me feel in a way I could’ve never asked you to show me.”

He licks his lips nodding slowly. “No limits to that.”

You smile, fitting yourself over his lap. “So we can fall off a mountain while I fuck falling to the ground? Or fuck you thru a glass window and roll you over in the shards and-”

Yahya quirks an eyebrow up. “I’m returning that thing tomorrow!”

#yahya abdul mateen ii #fic #black mirror #its my first fic posting in four months. be kind lo #wip fic fest #shakafic

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bodytoflame-ao3 · 4 years

Text

won’t you stick around? (sensation)

fem!percabeth + college late nights (part 2)

Read on Ao3

i kinda like the way we talk without the sound i'm living for the moments we can't be without

need u more ..//.. shaded

“Percy!”

“Hey,” she smiles, settling into the hug.

“You’re sure you won’t fail any classes for this?”

“Who could say no to the Hero of Olympus? And I’m not missing that much class. I left after my only class Friday morning, and I should be back in time for my Wednesday night.”

“I would scold you for taking advantage of your professors, but I missed you too much for that.” Annabeth takes her bag and sets it down in the corner of her room.

“I drove for two days for you, you better be nice.”

Annabeth pulls herself up onto her bed, grabbing the small sketchbook from its place on top of her pillow. “I’ll be nicer once I finish this sketch that’s due tomorrow.”

“You do that… I need to sleep for a few hours.” She’s barely slept in the past two days, but it’s not like she hasn’t had it worse. She took a power nap every few hours, and that was enough. With another nap and a quick shower at a motel in the middle of the night, she’s still feeling okay, but she knows she needs to rest up so she can start driving back in the morning. It’s still worth it — because she gets to see Annabeth, even if only for a night. And like Hades she’s getting on an airplane; that’s one fear she hasn’t quite conquered.

Annabeth stares at Percy expectantly, “Come on, Perce. You can sleep up here.”

“You're working, I don't wanna get in the way. I'll go crash on the couch.”

She rolls her eyes and extends her hand, “Come here.” It wouldn’t matter to her if Percy got in the way, though she knows it would be easy enough to work around her.

Percy sighs and climbs up with her, curling into her lap. She eventually settles, her head resting on Annabeth’s hip, arms wrapped around her leg.

She props up her other knee, resting her sketchbook up against her thigh. Glancing ahead at the reference pinned on her wall, she draws, fine lines and precise angles; a perfectly captured study of the industrial steel support beams of the dilapidated warehouse in the picture.

She nudges Percy once it's finished a few hours later, but she's in too deep of a slumber. It might just be instinct — a remnant of the days when sleep was hard to come by — but she looks so peaceful that she can't bear disturbing her.

So she draws, pencil moving across paper, with little reason. She draws the lamp in the corner of her room, the collection of objects strewn across her desk, little things she can see from where she is, trying to fill up the time until Percy wakes up.

When she’s run out of things to draw, Percy’s still sleeping; so calm and quiet. And still, she looks so beautiful. A hero, and the most gorgeous girl she’s ever seen. It’s striking to her, the difference between the way she looks in the middle of battle. Still beautiful, but her face so focused, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. The way she looks right now is so different, Annabeth almost can’t picture her as the same girl — she looks too innocent, filled with a peace they’ve never known. She wonders who they might’ve been if things were different, if they met as normal kids. She hopes they’d still be here; together.

It’s late, much later than she would stay up herself on a Sunday night. She's considering just calling it a night and making it up to Percy in the morning, when she starts to stir, stretching out with a yawn.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost 5 hours. Feel better?”

Percy hums an affirmation, “Finish your drawing?”

“Yeah. Did some other sketches too while you were sleeping. Figured you needed the rest.” Annabeth flips through the pages, showing her.

Her thumb catches two pages instead of just one. “Wait, you skipped one.”

“Ugh, don’t embarrass me, Percy,” she laughs, handing her the sketchbook and crossing her arms. It feels weird. She’s never been so sentimental — but Percy really looked so pretty clutching her legs, and she couldn’t help but capture that beauty.

Percy turns the page back, and a look of wonder falls onto her face. “Annabeth, this is incredible.”

She blushes, “It’s nothing.”

“No, this… it’s amazing.”

“I was thinking about minoring in art.”

“You should. Seriously, Annabeth. This is really, really good, I— Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Well, the major is based around the art history department. Remember how I mentioned we had to do one studio class?”

She nods. “You're taking that right now, right?”

“Yeah, and I really like it.” She bites her lip. “I’ve been practicing in my spare time. It’s kinda just like architecture drawings — observing shapes, and angles — but it's also looking at the way light hits things and how it changes your perceptions.”

Her eyes light up in the same way they do when she talks about her dreams for the future. “I think you should go for it.”

“Yeah?” Annabeth asks, a smile coming to her face as she sets the sketchbook aside.

“Yeah.”

She kisses Percy’s forehead and holds her close, fingers running through her hair. “I missed you.”

“You get possessive when you miss me,” Percy chuckles. “I like it.”

“I like you.”

“Aww, that’s so embarrassing,” Percy teases, running a hand up her stomach.

She grabs her hand, and leans in close enough that her lips brush Percy’s as she says, “You’re insufferable.” The mischievous grin on her face as she hops off the bed says it all.

“Where are you going?”

“Kitchen,” Annabeth answers, not looking back.

Percy follows on her heel like a puppy. “Hey. Let's go somewhere.”

She stops just short of the cabinet. “Yeah? What’s your plan?”

Percy shrugs. “Um. No plan? I just want to spend time with you.”

“Humor me, what’s even open at 1 AM besides… bars and McDonald’s?”

“Don’t know. Come on, let’s just go.” Percy tugs on her arm, digging her heels into the floor jokingly.

“We can spend time together here. I’ll put on a movie or something,” she manages through a laugh.

“Annabeth, we can watch a movie any time. I'm only here for—” she glances at the clock, “—eight more hours. You trust me,” she smiles, not a question, but a truth.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay, I'm gonna go put on real clothes.” Percy presses a quick kiss to her cheek and runs off.

Annabeth gives a wide-eyed glance to her roommate, standing by the coffee machine, watching it drip into her mug with unparalleled fascination. She's not sure how much she heard or saw — and she's not sure she cares if she did, to be honest. The better question is why she's drinking coffee at two in the morning.

She points an accusing finger: “Not even a word. At least I have the decency to stay here and procrastinate in my pajamas.”

“No, no,” Annabeth laughs, “I wasn't going to say anything,” —an obvious lie.

“So, friend, huh?”

Annabeth opens her mouth to speak, the words catching in her throat. She takes a second; takes a breath, and says, “Actually. My girlfriend. And best friend.”

“Ah,” she smiles, “I thought I sensed overdramatic gay pining.”

Relief washes over Annabeth at how calm and casual her reaction is — but oh, how wrong she is. “Trust me, that's not pining.” She knows pining, regrettably, and this isn't it. On their scale of reactions to time spent apart, a month of talking almost every night while still getting used to their new schedules was nothing.

“Well, it seems like she really missed you.”

Of course she did. And— “I missed her.”

She's drinking her coffee black — what kind of masochist drinks black coffee in the middle of the night on a Sunday night (or rather, Monday morning)? Perhaps the worst part: she sips it slowly, like she enjoys it. “She looks at you like… god, I don't even know, but it's intense.”

Annabeth crosses her arms. “I mean, we've been together for two years, and we've known each other even longer.”

“My boyfriend hasn't looked at me like that since the first few months. Damn, here I thought you were still in the honeymoon phase.”

“We grew up together — been through some shit,” she shrugs, not particularly wanting to elaborate.

“I get that.”

Annabeth doubts she does. “Yeah.”

Percy emerges from her room in a plain navy sundress, jean jacket draped over her shoulder. Annabeth’s eyes linger a bit too long as she looks her over. “Stop staring at my legs, Chase.”

“I— they're long!” Smooth, Annabeth.

Percy chuckles, “Messing with you. Grab your shoes, let’s go.”

“Annabeth, when will you be back?”

“Um. I actually don’t know,” she grins.

It turns out, Washington Square Park is beautiful at night. Despite it being right outside her window, she never did much besides walk through it to save time walking to class. Much quieter, too. There’s still a bustle of tourists, but nothing like it was during the day.

Percy holds her hand tight, swinging their arms back and forth deliberately as they walk. “I miss the city.”

“I never realized how beautiful it could be.”

“You’re majoring in architecture.”

“Yeah, but like… here everything’s so cramped and purpose built. It doesn’t seem like there’s room for beauty. But when I see things like this,” she looks up at the arch, illuminated marble against the dark sky, “it reminds me of all the things I want to make. And why — for these moments. For the girl staring up at the great big world at her fingertips and noticing the little things. The grain of wood in a table; once bark of a tree. Speckles in marble statues. The stippled texture of brick on a walkway.” She leans her head against Percy’s shoulder, clutching her arm tight. “The person who made this didn’t know what it would look like a hundred years in the future. It stood alone, when the night sky wasn’t lit up by street lights, and ‘skyscraper’ meant 10 stories. That America’s long gone, and so are the buildings, but this little piece of it still stands.”

“That is beautiful.” She has a way with words, doesn’t she?

While not eerily quiet, the crowd has started to die down, the bustle of tourists slowing, and Percy knows that’s their cue to leave. She twirls Annabeth around, and pulls her in the direction of the street closest to them.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know!”

“Isn’t it, I don’t know, dangerous for two girls to walk the streets of a big city alone in the middle of the night?” Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

“First off, we’re right next to a college campus and tourist hotspot — this is one of the safest parts of the city. Second, we kick ass.”

She can’t refute that. It’s easy to forget Percy grew up here, and knows this city like the back of her hand. And they do kick ass. They walk for a while, with no sense of direction, passing blocks and avenues; ascending and descending, until Annabeth says, “Let’s get pizza.”

Percy’s face lights up, “I was waiting for you to say something spontaneous like that. Where do you wanna go?”

“Pizza place across the street.”

It looks divey, but it ends up being some of the best pizza Annabeth’s ever had, and she’s glad they took the chance. They share a pie and hold hands across the table, just laughing, and smiling, and she feels normal — It hits her hard.

“What’s wrong?”

Her smile falls away, but it’s not a look of sadness. It’s reflection; every moment that’s led them here. “I didn’t plan this,” she starts, squeezing her hand, “I tried so hard to have a plan for everything, but there’s no way I could’ve planned this. And I’m just realizing I’ve never been more happy with my life than I am right now, and it’s all because of things I wasn’t able to control. That’s… ironic, right?”

“You may not’ve planned it, but you still made this what it is. It’s what we make.”

“Don’t get all philosophical on me over pizza.” Annabeth rolls her eyes.

“You started it!”

That’s true — but she can’t help it. It’s like the whole world fell into place around her without her even noticing. Wasn’t it in her nature to know things? To be observant? “Touché.”

“What do you wanna do?” Percy asks her once they’ve returned to the streets, having polished off the last slice.

She hums, thinking. “Crêpe place. It’s on the way back.”

“It’s…” Percy glances at her watch, “2:30. It’s probably closed.”

“Nope, it’s open until 3.”

“And you know this why?”

“It was 2:45 AM and I wanted crêpes,” she shrugs.

They’re damn good crêpes. If there’s one thing she misses the most about NYC, it’s her mom. Second: Annabeth. If there’s a third thing, it’s incredibly delicious food from unexpected places. Let it never be said Percy’s a girl without her priorities in order.

They wander back, slowly weaving their way towards Annabeth’s dorm, Percy’s arm wrapped around her waist as they walk. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’m not going to beg you to stay, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Annabeth laughs. “You need to pass your classes.”

Percy’s pretty sure she could ditch every single class for the next four years and they’d still give her a degree. But… she likes her classes. Which is new. New Rome understands her — it’s a school for Demigods, of course they cater to ADHD and dyslexia. Even more striking, she’s learning about things that she actually finds interesting. While she isn’t dead set on a specific field like Annabeth, there’s a few things she’s genuinely excited to look into. Marine life and sustainability — because she’ll always be in touch with the sea and the earth — and somehow, education? She’s pressed to admit Paul has rubbed off on her more than she’d ever expected, and having teachers that understand her disability is something she wishes she had as a kid. It’s something to think about.

“I know. I just miss you. I call sometimes… just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Percy, I do too,” Annabeth admits, leaning into her shoulder.

She smiles, “Gods, I thought I was being so creepy and weird.”

“For the record, you are weird.” Percy glares at her, so she elaborates. “So I… had a bit of a nightmare last week. It wasn't bad, but… I called,” she pauses, cracking a smile, “And you had your head hanging off the side of the bed; all tangled up in the blankets. That's weird.”

Percy scoffs, but she’s most definitely not lying. After a pause, she shifts the conversation: “You can wake me up if you need me, you know that right?”

“No, I mean,” she sighs, “I just needed to see you. That's all.”

She knows. “I mean anytime.”

Annabeth nods, “Same here.”

The second the elevator doors in her building close, Annabeth pulls Percy into a slow kiss, one she’s been waiting for since the second she saw her today.

“Took you long enough,” Percy laughs, threading her fingers through Annabeth’s hair. She tastes like marshmallow and chocolate, which she should’ve expected. It takes all of her willpower to pull away when the doors open at her floor.

Annabeth unlocks the door, and as soon as they step inside she hears, “I’m awake, so for the love of all things holy — no loud sex!”

A devilish look pops onto Percy’s face. “Quiet sex, got i—” Percy shouts back; Annabeth sticks her hand over her mouth a second too late.

“Really, Percy?”

“What?” she smirks, “At least I didn’t tell her you were the loud one.”

“Seaweed Brain,” she shakes her head, and heads into her room, quickly tossing her clothes in a pile to deal with in the morning. For now, she grabs a t-shirt out of Percy’s duffel bag, and climbs into her bed. They have six hours, and Annabeth intends to spend them holding her.

Percy follows, kicking her converse off in the doorway and wrestling into a tank top and shorts, finding her way into Annabeth’s arms as quickly as she can manage. As she curls into her grasp, head resting on her shoulder and legs intertwined, a sense of peace washes over her, unparalleled even by the end of the war. Annabeth’s arm cradles her head, hand stroking her shoulder.

It’s a departure from how they usually sleep, Percy spooning Annabeth, arm around her waist to hold her close, their legs tangled together. She’s almost forgotten just how good it feels to be held by her. It’s a feeling she can’t easily explain. When she holds Annabeth, she’s keeping her safe. Of course, she could hold her own any day — but it brings her comfort to hold her in her arms; her warm skin and soft curves nestled perfectly, safe, real. This is so, so different. This is the feeling of Annabeth’s strength, and her own vulnerability, wrapped in the knowledge and trust that she’ll never let go.

Annabeth whispers, “I love you,” and Percy falls asleep faster than she has in almost ten years.

#fic #~3k words #annabeth chase #pjo #fem!percy jackson #fem!percy #wlw percabeth #made

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clintashaotp · 5 years

Text

Damaged, Chapter Ten

Chapter note: Sorry it’s taking me so long to update. This is still a little bit of a rough version but I’m getting back into a schedule with this. It’s all in rough draft form I just need to edit it and post it. This is a pretty long chapter so I hope you guys enjoy! TW FOR MENTIONS OF PAST NON-CON AND GANG VIOLENCE

2,079 Words

...

Clint has done everything he can to get his hair in order. He’s brushed it what feels like a million times, he’s tried hairspray, he’s even tried massaging a bit of the hair gel Steve offered him into his roots. For some reason, it just won’t stay put. At six-twenty-four, he gives up, and double checks his outfit in the mirror nervously.

Jeans and his black bomber jacket feel like playing it safe, but both Peggy and Steve, who are perched on Steve’s bunk, assure him that he looks fine.

“Seriously, Clint, don’t stress too much about it. It’s just Natasha, right?” Peggy tries, and Clint nods, though her words do little to comfort his nerves.

“Okay. I’m going to go pick her up,” Clint mutters, running his hands through his spiky hair one last time.

“Good luck,” Steve waves, and Clint just nods, closing the dorm room door behind him.

Clint climbs the stairs two at a time, checking the time on his phone at the top of the stairwell. Should he be a few minutes early? Or do girls like it when you’re late? He takes a deep breath. It’s just Natasha, it’s just Natasha, just his best friend, just Natasha. It’s just hanging out with Natasha. He walks down the hall to her dorm room, and before he can think twice he knocks on the door.

Instead of the familiar face he was expecting, its Wanda who answers, her hair up in a messy bun and a clay mask smeared on her face.

“Oh, hey Clint!” She grins, and opens the door a little wider. “Nat, he’s here!”

“Nice, um…” Clint gestures at her face, and she laughs a little.

“Face mask. It was going to be a girls night, but something more important came up for Nat,” Wanda winks at him and Clint blushes awkwardly.

“Uh, sorry,” he shrugs, and Wanda just laughs.

“I’m kidding. I’ve been betting on you guys since you met,” Wanda grins, and before Clint can ask what she means Natasha shoves past Wanda, whispering something in her ear. “Have fun, you two!” Wanda grins, and pushes Nat the rest of the way out the door, closing it behind her.

Natasha’s hair looks, if possible, redder. Clint doesn’t normally pay attention to clothes, but Natasha’s oversized sweater brings out the orange shades in her hair, and her high waisted jeans highlight exactly the right curves of her legs.

“You look great,” Clint grins, and Natasha laughs, blushing a little.

“Shall we?” She says, and he nods awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he feels like he should grab her hand. Should he grab her hand? Before he can make up his mind she brushes past him, leading him down the stairwell and into the cool fall air.

“So, what’s on your mind?” She asks him as they start up the walkway, and they immediately fall into their usual conversation. It’s not that different from walking to class, or working on their presentations together in a coffee shop, or watching a movie together on her laptop. It’s just normal. It’s just conversation, with a different label.

When Natasha mentions Tony Stark Clint almost chokes. “You mean the Iron Man?”

“What are you talking about?” She laughs, and Clint grapes at her.

“Steve’s friends with him. Wait, so you mean—the literal prodigy of the engineering wing? Seriously, that was whose party we went to? They call him iron man because he literally has a way with metal. He can build anything, it’s amazing.”

“Sounds like someone’s totally fangirling,” Natasha teases, and Clint shoves her playfully.

“He’s just cool. That’s all,”

“Hmm, yeah, I bet so. Should I be jealous?” She says it in an offhand manner but Clint wants to kiss her right then. Of course he’s not going to, she probably only agreed to go on the date because she felt bad for him. She probably only thinks of him as a friend, right?

“Hey, look, here we are,” Clint breathes a sigh of relief as the yellow lights of Ernenzo’s come into view, promptly cutting off an awkward conversation. Natasha just smiles, and Clint is grateful she doesn’t push it. He’s not ready to be rejected just yet.

They get settled in a both in the corner, and Clint finds himself feeling a little more nervous. What if he gets food on his face? What if his card is declined when he tries to pay? What if he drops his fork on the floor?

“So…” he starts, but Natasha’s eyes are looking over his shoulder, at the table a few feet away. There’s an expression in her face he’s never seen before. “Nat? You okay?”

“Um,” she swallows hard, but doesn’t let her eyes shift. When Clint turns to look over his shoulder she grabs his arm. “Don’t. Don’t look.”

“What? What’s going on?” He asks, completely confused. It’s then that he realizes her hand, still resting on his arm, is shaking. Her breathing sounds off, quicker than normal, and when he looks up at her she looks on the brink of a panic attack. “Natasha?”

“I can’t…” she tries, but just shakes her head. “I can’t explain this. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clint murmurs, “Just...tell me what’s happening.”

“I’m really sorry,” she says again, and he’s startled to see tears in her eyes, “can we please go? I’m really sorry, we can just go somewhere else, please?”

“Of course, Tasha, yeah,” Clint says quickly, still full of confusion. She stands sharply, grabbing her phone and intertwines her fingers through his. The bolt of excitement he feels at her gesture is muted over by his concern at her sudden shift in mood. They walk past the table, and Clint glances over to see a man, maybe in his mid thirties. He’s talking to a group of women, and doesn’t seem to notice them, but Natasha shivers when they pass his table.

When they are in the open air, Natasha takes a long, deep breath, and Clint bits his lip, completely and utterly confused.

“Want to walk a bit?” She asks shakily, and he nods quickly. She still hasn’t let go of his hand.

“Sure.” He follows her as she leads him away from the restaurant and down the paths, in no particular direction. “Nat…” he asks after a few minutes, and she whips around to face him, dropping his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Clint, I ruined this date, I’m really sorry,” she gasps, and Clint shakes his head vigorously.

“No, Tasha, not at all, I swear,” he assures her, but she is still visibly upset. “Can you just tell me what happened?”

She takes a deep breath, and leads him over to the large grassy lawn, sitting down hard on the ground. He awkwardly follows her lead, and they settle against the base of a tree. Leaves crunch underneath them as Natasha scoots around so that they are both sitting cross legged facing one another.

“Okay. Just...listen first, okay? Don’t interrupt until I’m done. I need to get this all out.” She whispers, and he nods, watching her carefully. “I told you a bit about Ivan, but not… not much. Not what he did to me. When I turned fourteen, he started having friends over for poker night. Stupid things like that. They were all gross, and kind of old, but Ivan would have me serve drinks and stuff. If I did it quietly, he’d leave me alone.”

Clint watches her face. She is staring at the ground, weaving her fingers into the patch of grass at her feet. She looks far away, lost in a memory. He knows that that feels like.

“But then the men...they started looking at me differently. When I got older, Ivan would have me wear outfits to serve the drinks, or dance for them, or something. I hated it, but if I didn’t do it, he’d hurt me.” She sounds on the brink of tears, and Clint wants to reach out to her, but she told him not to interrupt, so he holds his tongue. “Then one night...he locked me in the basement. With them.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “They….they took turns with me. All of them. And when they were done, they gave Ivan money and left.”

“Nat,” he breathes, but she flinches, though he can’t tell if it’s from his interruption or the painfullness of the memory. She lets out a ragged breath, tears falling from her eyes.

“Ivan started selling me. I don’t remember their names, but...I never forget a face. Sometimes they were older, sometimes they were just college students, but...when I was sixteen, Bucky and Sam found out, and they got me out of there.”

Natasha takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Clint feels his heart break at her words.

“That guy...he was one of them. I don’t know why he’s here, or how he got here, but like I said. I never forget a face.”

“So the guys in the alley…” suddenly the pieces start to fall together. Clint runs a hand through his hair helplessly.

“Brought back painful memories. I normally fight back, but it was a bad night,” she manages, and Clint reaches out, grabbing her hand. She flinches slightly, but doesn’t pull away. He circles his thumb along the back of her hand comfortingly, trying to calm her down. He doesn’t know what to say, but he feels like he should say something, anything to comfort her,

“Natasha, I’m not upset about the date,” he starts, praying he doesn’t say something wrong. “I could never be upset with you. I just want you to feel safe, so if I can do anything, I want to help.”

“Thanks,” She whispers, and she scoots closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. He freezes slightly at the unexpected movement, but relaxes into her. The movement feels right to him, and her warmth pressed up against his side is one of the most comforting sensations he’s felt in a long time,

“My brother Barney and I grew up together,” Clint says into the silence. He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, but she just opened up to him, so he feels like he should say something back. “When we were kids we were in the circus, like I told you, but he made friends there that had connections. The circus gig wasn’t paying a lot, so he started selling drugs on the side without me knowing.”

Natasha snuggles closer into his side, shivering slightly, though whether from the slight chill in the air or from her overwhelming emotions he doesn’t know.

“He got roped into a gang after a while, and he tried to get me to join. When I said no, he threatened me. So I went with him. He was my big brother. I trusted him.” Clint takes a deep breath. The memories hit hard, especially with the phone call he’d just received. “After almost a year, I left. I hated it. It was dangerous, it was stupid. I found some old friends from my circus days and slept on a few couches and finished high school online. Then I went here. It was a new start.”

“What happened to Barney?” Natasha asks softly, and Clint jumps. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

“He stayed with them, I think. He called me a few days ago. Told me he wanted me back.”

“Clint—”

“I’m not going back, Tasha, not now, not ever.” Clint says firmly, and he feels Natasha relax slightly in his arms.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Clint hasn’t opened up like this to anyone in a long time, and while it feels good to get it off his chest it’s a scary feeling. But she was vulnerable with him and he trusts Natasha more than he has trusted anyone in years. After a long beat of silence, Natasha chuckles slightly into his chest.

“We’re both a little messed up, huh?” She murmurs, and he runs a hand through her hair.

“That we are.”

“Sorry about ruining—”

“You didn’t ruin anything. This is perfect.”

She wraps her arms around him, and even though her voice is calm, he can still feel her shaking slightly. He tightens his grip around her shoulders as she lets out a sigh into the cool fall air.

...

Tag list:

@written-writer r @natasha-barton @baker151910 @crafting-alchemist @spacenerd-universe @kyrri0 @imcaptainobviousmate e @evilispretty-dead @peterparker-noir

#natasha romanoff #clint barton #clintasha #fanfic #clintasha fanfic #clintashaotp fanfic #damaged #chapter update

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homiegeesus · 4 years

Text

The Year of Magical Thinking, Ch. 4

Summary: Francis Sinclair believed Arthur Morgan had not finished living. In a second chance at life, Arthur discovers what it means to love himself.

At the edge of a precipice and nowhere to run, Arthur concedes defeat. In an extraordinary turn of events, he is sent through the ether to another time where his path crosses with a group not too unlike his own family. After discovering the fate of those he loved before, he races to find a way back. But what if he realizes that there is something worth staying for in this new world? Can two people separated by nearly a hundred and twenty years of living find their happily ever after?

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you TheTiniestTortoise AKA @shallow-gravy for betaing this mess of a story! Your insight has been invaluable!

So sorry for the wait. I got sick last week then had to play makeup at work so life has been busy. Things should start slowing down during the holidays, and I'll have more time to post. I already started the next chapter and should have it up very soon. The chapters should be longer in the future as I start to get into the nitty-gritty of the plot.

Thank y'all so much for reading. Constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated.

The Year of Magical Thinking

Chapter 4 - Pace Post Bellum

“I loved you when I saw you today and I loved you always but I never saw you before.” - Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

In the serenity of a quiet meadow, a buck dips his massive twelve-point head into the calmly moving spring. The early morning sun casts an ethereal glow on its surroundings. A branch breaks in the distance causing the buck to lift his head in an abrupt movement.

A rifle shot resounds.

Arthur’s eyes opened as he took a deep, unsteady breath. The fog of sleep leaving him, he sat up straighter as he remembered where he was. A faint melody wafted through the air, a sad-sounding duo singing about a girl from the north country. This was more to his taste, if he had one, than the ear-killing music that had assaulted him earlier.

Cool air flowed over Arthur’s face and arms, a nice contrast from the heat outside. He felt grimy and so tired, the old wound in his shoulder irritated from sitting in one position unmoved. He glanced at his traveling companion. Steven, head leaning back against the seat, hummed the tune quietly, seemingly unaware he was being observed.

Good-looking enough, Arthur admitted, with a strong jaw and dimples when he smiled. The man had a kind face. Too trusting in the eyes, the outlaw noticed, inadvertently looking for any crack in the young doctor’s façade that he could exploit. Inwardly chastising himself he thought, not this man; he’s been kind to you, ya fool . Looking away from Steven in self-disgust, he took in the surrounding environs outside the vehicle. Tall pines had given way to flat, mostly empty fields smattered with oak trees dotting the landscape. Random buildings, some large, passed by in a blur before he could describe their features. A lake that Arthur remembered well came into view along the horizon. Steven finally noticed the other man was awake.

“Hey, you get any rest?” He asked.

Arthur nodded, “Yeah. ‘M fine.”

Looking towards the fast-approaching Flat Iron Lake, Arthur glanced at the other man.

“We gonna catch a ferry, or –,” he trailed off.

Steven just shook his head. “Nah, they built a bridge a while back.”

“’Cross the whole lake?” The outlaw replied, a little amazed at the ingenuity of such a feat.

The other man shrugged, “At least the fork part of it, or whatever.”

Silence eclipsed the cabin as both men looked across the lake. Arthur, lost in thought and a little mesmerized by the passing water, didn’t hear when Steven began speaking again.

He turned his head, “What’s that?”

“I said that I spoke with that friend of mine, while you were sleeping.”

“Okay,” Arthur nodded. “And?”

Glancing between the road and his passenger, Steven elaborated, “she said to come on over.” He huffed out a small laugh. “Ada’s like that, ya know, taking in strays and such.”

What an apt description of himself, Arthur thought. The only thing close to a home he’d ever found was with his people, and even that had sometimes seemed alien.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Steven continued. “Quick-tempered if you rile her, but a good person.” He regarded Arthur with a look the outlaw knew well. Distrust and wariness. “She’s like a sister to me, more family than my own blood.”

The tone and intent was loud and clear: don’t you think about hurting her . Holding his stare for a moment, Steven finally looked back to the road. Silence once again descended. Arthur had only a few minutes to wallow in shame before they crossed the long bridge. That’s when a sight that would stick with him for a long while came into view.

In the distance, buildings even taller than those he had seen in Chicago once upon a time. Standing upon the horizon like eerie monoliths, they were a testament to progress.

Arthur leaned forward in his seat. He exhaled a breath, “What the –”

Steven looked over at him. “Yeah. They’re somethin’, aren’t they?” Receiving no response, he continued, “That’s downtown Blackwater.”

Peeling his eyes from the skyline, Arthur turned his head to the other man. “Yer kiddin’,” he replied, unbelieving.

One corner of Steven’s mouth ticked up, but he said nothing.

____________________________________________________

Arthur could hardly believe the sheer amount of people that now populated Blackwater. Steven had explained that an oil boom in the early to mid-1900s had caused rapid economic growth in the area. With all that money came all the people. And good God, there were a lot of them. Blackwater had become a veritable center of industry in the midst of the otherwise empty Midwest.

Feeling out of his depth and overwhelmed by all the visual stimuli, he breathed a silent sigh of relief when they drove away from downtown to a calmer, tree-filled neighborhood. Great big old-growth live oaks and pecans littered each oversized front lawn, while a mix of attractive Victorian and newer build homes sat far from the curb of the street.

“It’s a really old neighborhood,” Steven said. “A lot of the houses are from your time, some early twentieth century.”

He explained that this Ada woman had inherited her house from her now-deceased grandmother. When Steven spoke of this girl that would take him in, Arthur could not help but imagine her as a well-to-do heiress, riding the coattails of previous generations’ success. Dutch’s populist ideals had been ingrained into him from a young age, and despite all his good intentions, Arthur could not shake them.

They stopped in front of a pretty little house with a small balustraded stairway that led up to a semi-wrap-around porch and a stark red door. The porch started in the center of the house and continued to wrap around to the left. To the right was a bay of double-pane windows with the upper halves decorated in a simple stained glass. Unadorned brackets dotted the eaves of the house, with two high-peaked gables holding small single-paned windows. Light beige siding with white trim made the blood-red entry stand out all the more. Looking familiar to any city house he would have encountered in his time, Arthur felt an iota of comfort.

He glanced at Steven, waiting for an indication that they should exit the car. The other man turned the vehicle off, removed the key and leaned slightly back in the seat. He looked over to Arthur and asked, “You ready?”

No, he wanted to say, I ain’t ready for any of this. False courage won out. “Sure.”

Apparently reading Arthur’s mind, Steven gave him an encouraging smile.

“Trust me when I say she’s a good person. I mean, she’s been through shit of her own. You should get along famously.” Steven was obviously trying to reassure him, but Arthur took no comfort in his words; he wondered if trust would ever come easy to someone like him. Still, the young doctor pressed on. “How ‘bout this? You have any reservations when you go in, I’ll take you to get a room at a hotel. I just really think you should have someone with you, ya know?”

Embarrassed and feeling like a child, Arthur grumbled, “Nah. This is fine.”

Steven nodded, “Good.” He waved a hand, “Come on, let’s go then.”

Exiting the vehicle, Arthur followed the other man down the walkway towards the stairs. Before they could reach the door, it opened. If the old outlaw had been drinking at that moment, he would have unceremoniously spewed it all over this nice porch. He immediately recognized the girl from his would-be memories seen during his journey to this place. She had painted nearly every frame, with her long blonde hair, bright smile and apple cheeks. Though the visions had not done her justice. Even from a distance, her moss-colored eyes stood out underneath fine brows. Plump lips thinned with her toothy smile below a button nose, all encased in an attractive oval face.

Arthur distantly heard someone say his name. Realizing he was staring at the poor woman like a degenerate, he cleared his throat and looked to his boots. He felt a slight annoyance at Steven’s light chuckle.

“Did y’all stop at the Stockyards in Cowtown on the way here, or is it already Halloween?” The girl joked in obvious sarcasm.

Arthur lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. I ain’t no cowboy, he wanted to say. Well, not really.

Steven motioned between the outlaw and the girl. “Ada, this is Arthur. Arthur, Ada.”

“Ma’am,” was all Arthur said with a slight nod.

The blonde smirked. “You can call me Ada,” she laughed lightly, making Arthur feel a fool before pointing over her shoulder. “Come on in.”

Following the pair, Arthur crossed the entry into a narrow foyer. He was immediately hit with the scent of baking bread. Nearly salivating at the smell, he’d only realized in this moment that he was starving. Passing by stairs to the left and a cozy sitting room to the right, they stopped near the rear of the house. A large open kitchen, with different strange-looking metal contraptions, sat next to a living room full of drape-covered floor-to-ceiling windows. A single door seemed to lead to a porch out back.

“Dinner’s about ready if you’re hungry.”

Arthur stopped his observance of his surroundings and looked to Ada. Realizing she was staring expectantly at him, he gave her a small nod.

She turned to Steven, “You sure you can’t stay? I made plenty.”

Steven gave her a reproachful smile, “Nah, sorry I can’t. Nick would kill me if I stood him up.” He then tilted his head towards the back door. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Ada glanced between the two men, “Sure. Arthur, make yourself at home.” She gestured to the open living room before walking out the door onto the back porch outside.

Steven paused for a moment before addressing Arthur, “We’ll just be a minute.”

The outlaw nodded, and the other man walked out and closed the door behind him.

Itching for a cigarette to calm his nerves, his hand once again went to his side and found nothing. Looking for another outlet for his anxiety, he decided to look around. Forgoing the couch, Arthur spotted some photographs on the mantle of a fireplace sat between windows facing the backyard. He walked over to get a better look, boots sounding heavy on the dark wood floors in the quietness of the room. Photographs of all shapes and sizes crowded the shelf, but a solitary unframed picture caught his eye. Picking it up carefully as not to disturb the others, he looked closer. An older woman with long silver hair and a kind, cheeky smile sat wrapped in the arms of a younger version of the girl he had just met. Ada had that same look that Arthur had seen in his visions and had haunted him since; in brilliant color a smile so bright, he hardly believed anybody could be that happy.

He flipped the photograph over. Written in a distinctly feminine script: Gramma Signy & Adeline, ’08. It took his mind a moment to register that it meant 2008, not 1908.

Eyes automatically going to the girl in question through the window, he found her looking right back. Feeling as if he’d been caught doing something nefarious, he immediately returned the photograph to its place. He turned and marched straight to the plush couch and took a seat to wait for the two friends to finish their talk.

About ten minutes later, Steven and Ada walked back into the house. Standing up from his spot on the couch, Arthur looked to the other man for a clue on how the talk went but found only a dimpled smile.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. Have to get to Uptown in, like, an hour.”

“That far away?” Arthur had no sense of direction in this place.

Steven shook his head. “Nah, ‘bout thirty minutes in traffic.”

Arthur nodded and then turned his attention to Ada. It seemed in the last fifteen minutes she had developed a semi-permanent furrow in her brow. She looked at him like he was alien, and maybe he was. Made uncomfortable by her stare, Arthur averted his gaze.

Steven cleared his throat. “Uh – well – if everything’s all set here, I’m gonna head out,” he repeated.

Arthur remembered his gun belt. “I’m gonna need to get my – er – things outta yer automobile.”

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh, follow me out then,” Steven replied.

They stepped outside, Ada only following to the doorstep. Steven had given her a tight hug, and Arthur had barely heard her whisper “I trust you” into the other man’s ear. Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment, he continued the walk towards the vehicle.

Steven appeared beside him a moment later. The younger man took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips. Staring straight ahead, Steven addressed the man to his right. “Ada’s like a sister to me.” He finally turned to look at the outlaw, “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Understanding where this conversation was going, Arthur's gaze lowered to his boots.

Steven continued, “I’m trusting that you’re a decent man – considering.”

“Not gonna lie to ya. I ain’t a good man.” He looked up at Steven. “But, I don’t bite the hand that feeds me if ya get my meanin’. And I sure as hell ain’t gonna hurt no woman.”

Steven smirked and nodded. “Well, you might think differently after a day or two,” he said with a small laugh as he lightly slapped Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s get your stuff.”

After retrieving his gun belt and shaking hands in that ancient show of masculinity, Steven was off. Looking up at the darkening cloudless sky, Arthur could not see any stars. Just as he had imagined, the developed world had blotted out the heavens and replaced it with a colorless haze. An unconscious yearning for belonging came over him, and Arthur felt his gaze being pulled towards the house. Ada stood in the doorway, waiting for him. Watching each other for a moment longer, a small smile pulled at her lips. With a motion of her hand, she beckoned him inside and he followed.

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #The Year of Magical Thinking #arthur morgan #arthur x oc #arthur morgan x oc

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honeysliced · 4 years

Text

☁️: 🌆 ♡ vmin

content warning!! contains references to eating disorders and associated descriptions of food.

It’s five in the evening.

The heat of the day lifts in waves and a man with a smile that’s all angles sits beside him. The bench creaks, its paint peeling, and the man throws birdseed for the pigeons to spear with their beaks.

It’s nothing personal but the pigeons irritate Jimin while they eat without a care.

“Hey,” the man says. In Jimin’s peripheral, he looks like a painting with vibrantly thick, always-damp oil paint strokes highlighting smeared eyes that follow you wherever you go. “Waiting for someone?”

“Got no one to wait for.” Jimin glances at the man. His smile has fallen off his face, lips turned downward and skirting between frowning and impassivity.

As blurry as his expression is, Jimin feels drawn in by a quiet, thoughtful kindness he’s not sure is really there. “What about you?”

The man hums, rolls it around in his mouth and releases it as, “Not anymore.” It sounds even sadder than just being alone.

Jimin doesn’t mind being alone, he can do whatever he wants whenever he wants and it doesn’t bother anyone who isn’t him. Having someone then losing them, Jimin imagines, must be much harder.

The man’s lips attempt a smile but every twitch results in them pulling back to that downward curve. His effort is obvious and when he manages a smile it’s strained, barely reaches his eyes. “Coming here is a habit.”

Smiling in return is the least Jimin can do. It’s so easy for him that looking at this man stirs a small whirlpool of guilt in his chest. Jimin himself wouldn't mind a smile or two.

So long as they weren't laughing behind his back.

Jimin leans closer, “How long?”

“About…” the man tips his head up, looking like he’s mentally counting and gazing past all the birds and trees and horizons, “two years now.”

Grief. “That's a long time.”

“You think so?”

What should Jimin say to that?

Time, he supposes, is just one of those concepts that varies for everyone. Jimin’s bones feel too heavy for his skin, he doesn't care about time.

The only relevance time has to him is his nearest deadline.

“Park Jimin.” Introducing himself is easier than trying to answer subjective questions. “I’m here every Friday around this time.”

The man stops throwing birdseed and tucks his chin into his chest just enough to watch Jimin from the corner of his eye. His gaze is sharp and a softer part of Jimin instinctively flinches. “You sure you should be telling a stranger that?”

It’s hard to swallow but when he manages his throat feels thick. “What’s your name, stranger?”

The man closes his fist around some of the dried seeds, gaze cutting past his shoulder and pinning Jimin to his spot. Jimin holds his breath as he holds his gaze. “Kim Taehyung.”

Jimin exhales when Taehyung looks away.

It’s quiet.

Taehyung continues feeding the pigeons and Jimin keeps measuring his breathing. When Taehyung leans back, hand empty, Jimin’s phone beeps a reminder in his pocket and Jimin stands up, carefully sorting his words.

“I’ll see you around, Taehyung.”

Taehyung angles himself to look at Jimin properly. He looks deceptively friendly from this angle— or perhaps his gaze was deceptively sharp earlier. “Same time, same place?”

The business of promises hasn’t seen Jimin in years but he’s drawn to dabbling in it this evening. “Sure.”

Taehyung flashes another smile. It’s more like his first, disarming and free of foreboding tension. It’s easier to see the sorrow outlining it now that Jimin knows where to look.

With their goodbye, a street light flickers on.

🌦

It’s five again. While the sun considers setting Taehyung drops his weight onto the bench beside him. Jimin didn’t expect to see him again but he returns the smile Taehyung passes him like a little secret.

Jimin tips his head in a gesture to Taehyung’s hands. “No seeds today?”

“Don’t have any,” Taehyung answers, rubbing his hands over his denim thighs until the material is smooth as plastic. “Had to skip lunch, couldn’t grab anything for me or them.”

“That's no good.” Hypocrite. The only time Jimin doesn’t skip lunch is the weekend.

Not eating makes him sick but he might as well be miserable. The big city is unwelcoming, he must fit into its mould. Work hard, play smart, suffer.

Two out of three isn’t bad, but it’s not where Jimin wants to be either. “If you don’t eat dinner soon you’ll feel sick.”

“Yes, mother,” Taehyung snorts, turned in Jimin’s yet stubbornly avoiding his gaze, “I’ll eat dinner.”

A laugh bubbles in Jimin’s throat and he wrinkles his nose at it. “You talk to your mother that way?”

“Never,” Taehyung’s voice falls flat, all humour drained of it and something in Jimin springs up in approval.

Jimin checks his phone. Six is far off and there is nothing that desperately needs tending to; he mutes the alarm and tucks his phone away.

“Why’d you skip lunch?”

“Had to work on a song.” Sounds nice. “I suck at it.” Maybe not so nice. “Why’d you skip lunch?”

Boy thinks he can outsmart Jimin with third-grade mind tricks? It would have worked—if they were chatting at five in the morning. “I never told you I skipped lunch.”

Taehyung leans in, tips his head slightly and whispers. “But did you?”

Jimin doesn’t have to answer honestly. Jimin doesn’t have to answer at all but it’s nice having someone to talk with. “Maybe.”

“That won’t do, Jimin. We’ve committed a grave sin.” Taehyung’s face pinches in distaste but it looks kind of funny the way something sweet looks when doused with pepper.

Jimin laughs to himself. “Looks like we have to get dinner soon.”

That’s what he would’ve done at six but he can stay here a while more. What should he get anyway? Nothing too heavy, else he’ll be sick all night.

“Want to come with me?” Taehyung’s voice is like a pebble swan diving into water, specifically the splash: refreshing, cooling, a little grounding.

It’s welcome in the fog of Jimin’s head. “Hm?”

“For dinner.” Taehyung smiles and Jimin considers it. It’s a win-win situation as far as he knows. “Unless you have other plans?”

“I don’t.” Jimin gets to his feet and runs through their options. “There’s a little place two blocks down,” Jimin wets his lips. They're so dry, he feels ten times more nervous for some reason. “It’s pretty good, lots of options.”

He doesn’t mention that it’s the only place he eats at when he can afford it but he kind of hopes Taehyung likes it.

“Sounds great.” Taehyung bounces onto his feet with a wide smile. The traces of sadness Jimin outlined last week are faded, ever so slightly. Is Taehyung hiding it or is he in a better mood today?

The walk is short and the space between them is comfortably quiet, unexpectedly so. The crowded streets relentlessly jostle them: they bump shoulders too often, apologise under their breaths, and it’s always okay.

Every time they glance at each other they smile, not politely, but Jimin’s not sure he would say earnestly, either. Maybe instinctively.

The restaurant is a quaintly neat little spot with tan tiles, tightly woven thatched half-walls and various potted plants that spring towards the large windows and little white lights dotting the ceiling.

By the time they’re seated Taehyung’s smile seems to glow through his skin and he orders before Jimin can ask what he thinks of the menu so Jimin asks about Taehyung’s song instead. Taehyung asks about what Jimin does in turn and they discover they’re both into performing arts.

Taehyung isn’t shy about eating and the only time he isn’t smiling during their meal is when he’s busy chewing his food. He sinks into the seat, limbs lax.

It might be safe to say Taehyung likes the restaurant.

“That was fun.” Taehyung’s tense in his shoulders but he smiles from ear to ear. It would be a crime if Jimin didn’t smile just as widely in return. “See you next week? I’ll treat you next time.”

“You’ll regret it,” Jimin quips.

It’s meant to be a joke but Jimin already wants to take it back, he doesn’t want Taehyung to regret spending time with him. It’s been so long since he enjoyed time with someone else.

“Doubt it.” Oh, thank God. Taehyung’s smile slants something endearing and he says, “Seeya next week.”

Jimin leaves with his head held high and a spring in his step.

There are odd scenes he never noticed—a bicycle propped on its back-wheel against a bus stop sign, a tiny flower bed in the middle of the walkway, letters irreverently stacked throughout the complex’s entryway, but it’s his fault for always staring at his feet on the way home.

He enjoys his new ease until he’s in his bathroom and he realises he took Taehyung out on what most people would call a ‘date’.

☀

Five in the cool evening. The wind shoves at summer-dried leaves and Jimin is already on his feet when Taehyung comes up to him with his big smile.

Taehyung barely says ‘hi’ before Jimin asks, “Can I have your number?”

Taehyung’s smile drops into a surprised little shape.

Maybe asking for his number on the third meeting is too soon. It’s just, it’d be nice, uh, it would be great to send a goodnight text or something, but maybe that’s kind of dumb-

“Only if you give me yours, too,” Taehyung chimes, offering his phone.

Never before has Jimin scrambled so desperately to fumble his phone out of his pocket to hand it over to another person.

If Taehyung’s laughing at him or laughing because that’s something he does, laugh for reasons unknown, Jimin doesn’t ask. He’s too busy trying not to mess up his own damn number.

They're returning their phones when Jimin blurts, “Are you ready for our date?” Because his mouth has plans of its own and Taehyung nearly drops his phone.

What’s with Jimin and saying things all of a sudden? He has to shut the-

“Thought I’d forget?” How does Taehyung do that? His grin says one thing but his voice wavers like another.

Jimin wants to say he didn’t mean anything but he doesn’t want to lie either. He does want it to be a date. “Well… ‘course not.”

“Good because I know just where we’re going.” Taehyung links his arm with Jimin’s, tilts his head and asks, “Is this okay?”

How exactly should Jimin say he might rocket into orbit with just how okay this is? It feels so good to be with someone, to smile, to not regret every word in the aftermath of it all.

“It’s okay.” Jimin smiles so widely his cheeks hurt, his face wasn’t ready for it.

This time their walk isn’t quiet because they keep talking, scrambling for things to say and stammering over what they manage to get out. It’s painfully awkward and Jimin can't stop grinning for the life of him, embarrassed as all hell.

“M’not sure what you’ll think of it, it’s not the prettiest...” Taehyung says tentatively, glancing to and from Jimin in a way that makes Jimin’s cheeks and chest warm fondly, “but I like it. Their burgers are kinda perfect.”

“It’ll be great.” Jimin soothes. “It’s got your approval and food, right?”

Taehyung laughs through his nodding, squeezing Jimin’s arm with his and Jimin wouldn’t mind if they ended up doubling back just to sit on the bench with peeling paint.

Turns out Taehyung’s ‘kinda perfect’ place is a fast food joint and Taehyung recommends the double burger as soon as they walk through the door.

It’s just a little bigger than cramped with dull leathery couches and a jukebox tucked against a wall, yellow lights flickering just enough for Jimin to feel like he can see the grease in the air.

Fast food means oils, grease and calories calories caloriescaloriescalories but Jimin deserves a break every once in a while… right? Meeting social needs with some social eating and Taehyung chatters happily with the cashier, his warmth radiating through Jimin’s arm and pulling his thoughts from tightly wound concerns.

Just this once, right? Forget the mould; it’s not going away any time soon but what of this moment? What about Taehyung?

Taehyung’s humming, bobbing his head, inevitably catching Jimin’s attention and when he realises he has it his lips curve in this happily reserved way and Jimin’s stomach swoops for a whole other reason.

Jimin minds this development much less than he should.

Despite Taehyung’s prodding, Jimin gets a regular burger with a smear of guilt and eats half of it by the time Taehyung gets his double deluxe burger— “Double deluxe? That’s not really a thing, right?”

“Yet here it is, going into my mouth,” Taehyung punctuates his statement with a noisy chomp into his burger and Jimin almost chokes on his as a laugh forces itself out.

“Gross.”

“Says you,” Taehyung says around another mouthful, leaning over the table until Jimin pushes him back into his seat. People are giving them irritated looks. “The one laughing into his burger.”

Jimin snorts and jerks his shoulders in a playful lunge that Taehyung shimmies away from. “That’s your fault!”

“Whatever you say, Jiminnie.” Taehyung grins and Jimin lets the nickname slide in favour of laughing.

“You’ve got a li’l something in your teeth.” Jimin makes sure his teeth are clean before grinning and running his tongue over his incisors.

“You’re making fun of me even though I’m treating you? On a wonderful date?” Taehyung holds the burger over his mouth, eyeing Jimin through his lashes as he continues eating his burger. “Ungrateful.”

“Oh, please.” Wonderful doesn’t cut it. Jimin hasn’t had this much fun in… he can’t even remember.

It’s been far too long. It’s hard to believe he barely knows Taehyung with how close he feels to him right now.

Must be the smile.

“You've got no clue how grateful I am.”

Taehyung smiles cheekily behind his burger and Jimin can only tell by the way his cheeks curve. “Naturally.”

Jimin finishes his burger to no one’s surprise but his own and Taehyung grins around a mouthful of cheese and beef as Jimin throws the wrap away.

He leans over the table with a too-wide grin and pokes at his teeth. “You’ve still got a little-”

Taehyung swats at the space between them, muffled laughter mixing with Jimin’s. “Let me enjoy my double deluxe in peace.”

Jimin snorts and slides into the seat beside Taehyung, leaning on his arm just enough to give him some grief through his enjoyment but not enough to push into his personal space more than when they linked arms earlier.

Beside Taehyung, mouth full of cheese and beef and protests against food-related coitus interruptus, Jimin forgets his stifling mould and slips into something more comfortable. If only for the moment.

#vmin drabble #cw: implied eating disorder #vmin #mini #tae #sfw #angst #it starts grumpy but gets soft i promise #fluff

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bisexualray · 5 years

Text

Yooseven Week - Day 5

Cosplay | Conventions

Note: So technically, this is their first date, though this takes place after all the previous vignettes, and I swear I didn’t make it angsty, it’s all pure fluff! And like some element of cosplay, I kinda put my own spin on it. This was The Song™ for this one.

Pairings: Yoosung/707, mentioned Jaehee/MC

Word Count: 1k+

previous | next

ao3 | masterpost

@yoo7week

“You two are so cute together!”

Most of Saeyoung was paying attention to the voice on the other end of the line and the sounds of the apparently busy coffee shop, walking at a steady pace, stepping over each crack on the sidewalk for the sake of the habit.

MC’s voice was playing like music in his head, playing to accompany the trip down the sun-kissed sidewalk, a trip too short to take by car. Excitement grew in Saeyoung at the thought of his destination, smiling and looking down at his feet, taking an uncomfortable step to avoid the fictitious consequences of the superstition.

One foot in front of the other, turning a corner, phone to his ear, listening to MC’s elated reaction to his recent declaration of love for Yoosung in the chatroom. It was relieving, the support he received from the RFA members, and MC’s enthusiasm made it all the more satisfying.

He glanced at the rose in hand, twirled it between his fingers, and listened as MC continued.

“You have such a nice friendship,” she said, a quiet clanging and the hum of a coffee brewer in the background, “so Jaehee and I think you’re great together. Since I know how much you love him- ah, I’m just so happy for you!”

“We appreciate it.”

Saeyoung looked up again to avoid bumping into anything, walking under the sun shining in the clear sky, through the city, to Yoosung.

To the first official date they’d ever had, genuine plans they’d made, the ones before being movies or video games at one of their apartments, an endearing and beloved activity, but unlike deciding to meet up for something actually dubbed a date. Saeyoung had been looking forward to it ever since they agreed on where to go.

He made a right turn. Almost there.

“Sounds like you’re pretty busy.”

“Ah, no. Just working quickly. I told Jaehee to take a break.” A soft cough from the other end. “Where are you? Outside?”

“Yep. We’re going on a date soon.”

“Awww!”

He felt heat prickle on his skin from the burning sun, glad that he decided to wear a T-shirt in the warm summer weather. He kept his mind on his destination, imagining meeting Yoosung there, the scene playing out in his head, and pressed on, passing nearby walkers.

“You two have fun on your date!” she said, voice kind and sweet. As he rounded another corner to the park, he found his lips turning up into a smile.

He imagined Yoosung’s own when he’d see him.

“Thanks, MC.”

“See you later!”

A beep.

Irrational nervousness.

A consideration of the fact that, technically, he’d never been on a date before, but with Yoosung, it was a good start.

The trees cast a relieving shade across the park, over the field of grass and flowers, leaving shadows, temporary imprints, on the walkway. Yoosung sat on a bench under the cool wave of shade, locking eyes with Saeyoung from the other end of the walkway, face lighting up.

Saeyoung made his way to him, walking at a faster pace, hiding the rose behind his back. Yoosung stood from his seat, moving slowly to meet Saeyoung before the middle, drawing closer.

“Hey!” Yoosung’s greeting.

Saeyoung’s greeting came when they were close enough to touch, wrapping his arms around Yoosung and pulling him into a hug, careful to hold the rose behind him, smiling into the crook of his neck. Yoosung froze for a second before reciprocating, throwing his arms around Saeyoung’s neck and hugging him back.

Saeyoung fell into Yoosung’s warmth, warmth like the beating sun that lit the sky and sent its rays to the world around him, sweat trickling down his brow and the hug growing humid.

Five seconds.

The humidity grew uncomfortable, the hug increasingly overheated, but he only pulled away with the hug’s natural end and swung the flower forward from behind Yoosung’s back, offering it to him with a grin.

“For you!”

He tried to stifle his laughter and save the situation from the nervousness he beat down to the back of his mind. His hand shook slightly with the rose between his fingers.

God, stop being—

Yoosung’s smile was bright as he reached out to take the thornless rose, fingers lightly brushing against Saeyoung’s as he did so, sending a surge of happiness, a burst of nervousness, through Saeyoung. It made him feel like he did with his stupid, awkward crush, or that floating, euphoric feeling that had been replaced with content ones.

And it was brought upon him by the way Yoosung accepted the flower, bringing it to his nose and breathing in the scent, looking back up at Saeyoung.

“I love it.”

“Really? Oh, thank god. I was wondering if you even like flowers or—”

“I’d like any gift from you, Saeyoung.”

“—I just thought it’d be nice to get you something and I didn’t know if—”

Yoosung placed two fingers under Saeyoung’s chin, turning his head forward to face him, and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, lingering for a second. Saeyoung’s face was flushed, from the kiss and from the warm weather. When Yoosung pulled away, he let out his laughter, hands shaking.

Why are you so—?

“Are you nervous?” Yoosung asked, his expression worrisome, and Saeyoung mentally cursed to himself that he ruined their date, hands moving on their own to adjust his glasses.

“Kinda,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry if I made you—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. This is just... a step forward for us.”

Yoosung processed that for a second, lips moving up into a smile. He glanced down to Saeyoung’s hand and reached out to take it, stepping back and pulling Saeyoung with him in a way that he couldn’t help but smile, too.

“I guess since it’s been months since we started dating, this is kinda late for a first date,” Yoosung joked, and the two fell into step and made their way down the walkway and through the park.

“Yoosung, is it really considered ‘dating’ if we’ve never been on a date until now?”

“Nope. We lost all our progress.”

“Dammit!”

Saeyoung lifted their hands up, bringing Yoosung’s to his lips and kissing his palm.

“I told you to save the game at our last checkpoint, Yoosung!”

The sun was a blinding light within branches, its rays overtaken by the shade cast upon the cement by the growing amount of trees in the park, Yoosung and Saeyoung’s connected hands swinging slightly as they walked.

They spoke happily with each other about whatever came up, Saeyoung finishing a conversation about Yoosung’s new job at Jumin’s company with a joke, Yoosung’s laugh ending with a sigh, a silence between the two of them that sat comfortably, yet with a feeling that there was a hole that needed to be filled.

Saeyoung inhaled, breathing in the cleared air from the coolness of the shade. He blinked for a second too long before opening his eyes again, listening to an initiation of discussion.

“You know... I actually don’t mind just... watching movies with you.”

Yoosung’s voice was small and hesitant, and his grip tightened in Saeyoung’s hand for a second before loosening. “This date is really nice,” he continued, “but don’t think we can’t just stay home for our dates. They’re the same either way, ‘cause we’re together.”

Saeyoung thought about that.

He loved Yoosung, loved spending time with Yoosung, whether it be at home or in a park or anywhere. He wouldn’t rather be on a date with anyone else, taking in every sensation that came from holding Yoosung’s hand and being with him in the moment.

When he first realized he had a crush on Yoosung, he didn’t think he’d get this far. He didn’t think he’d ever get to call him his boyfriend, and could never see the two of them on a date.

When he first realized he’d fallen in love with Yoosung, he wanted to cherish every moment with him, hold him in his arms and live in that love forever.

He looked over to Yoosung, eyes locking onto his, the nervousness returning and flowing through his body, the realization hitting him like a train.

His heart rate increased, thoughts flooding his mind, completely taking over him, and his grip tightened as his hand began to shake again, hoping that Yoosung’s wouldn’t be alarmed; but in that moment, he knew the exact reason behind his nervousness.

Yoosung’s eyes were bottomless pits to Saeyoung as he let go of his hand and changed the subject.

“I wonder what I’d look like wearing your glasses.”

Saeyoung involuntarily reached up to adjust his glasses, letting out another laugh, and slipped them off his face, thoughts still muddled, actions done in a half-minded manner like he was in a dream. He smiled as Yoosung took the glasses from his hands and put them on, blinking four times.

“Everything is so blurry!”

“I love you.”

It was random, said through laughter and a dumb smile, but it was a way for Saeyoung to express the thoughts in his head, more ideas being thrown at him every time he looked at Yoosung, who blinked again, letting out his own laughter.

“I love you, too. Why’d you...?”

“I just...” He felt light, like his feet were lifted off the ground, lightheaded and flying through the air, brought back down to earth to look into Yoosung’s eyes, vision blurry, but still enough to see his inquiring look, and made a tentative decision in his head. He sighed to finish his sentence.

He became aware of the hands on his cheeks and Yoosung’s soft whispers, Saeyoung’s arms moving to hold his waist.

“I love you,” he said, a small smile on his face, and Saeyoung had never kissed anyone with glasses before, but he wondered if this was how Yoosung felt when they kissed regularly.

The tentative decision floated in Saeyoung’s mind, hitting every corner, and he processed it, thought it over, and broke the kiss with a smile, having fully made his decision and stressed a feeling he’d felt before.

He wanted to cherish every moment with him.

He wanted to hold him in his arms.

He wanted to live in that love forever, and fall for him all over again with each passing day, for the rest of his life.

#mystic messenger #mysme #yooseven #yoosevenweek19 #yoosung kim #707 #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #fluff #first dates #two absolute dorks in love #im love them this was sm fun to write!#i think this fic is a good comeback from my break #ok i know this is like 100% fluff but #i would like to apologize in advance for the next one #but for now FLUFF !!#fanfic

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asterinjapan · 5 years

Text

Walks through history and caves

Hello again!

Today was a hot and sunny day, so of course I spent most of it inside, haha. That’s not as much of a shame as you might think, because I saw some lovely things and I didn’t melt. That’s always a plus.

Follow me behind the link for today’s report on Okinawa World and the Okinawa prefectural museum!

So, yeah, two things today again. I have a bunch of things I want to do or visit, but not all of them can be combined due to bus lines being very inconvenient. In general they’re pretty great, but sometimes two things are like 5 kilometers apart and yet the fastest way by bus is going to the other side of the island first… So I stayed up late last night and scrambled up my list to see what came up. As it turns out, the Prefectural museum is on the other side than anything else I’d like to visit, and would thus always require a trip back to Naha. That would be the plan for the afternoon then!

In the morning, I went to Okinawa World. It’s a theme park of sorts about, well, Okinawa, and frankly the majority of it is… well. I mostly came here for the cave, which we will get to later, because upon entering, I learnt that there would be a performance in ten minutes, so I went there first. It turned out to be a traditional Eisa-style drum and dance performance and boy, did that group pack a punch! Near the end they rolled in an absolutely massive drum as well, those were some intense vibrations, haha. Despite the heat (it was open-air, although underneath a tent cover), time flew and I had a good time during the performance. I however can’t say it’s music I’d very quickly buy a CD of, because I feel this is something you have to experience.

After that, I made my way to the limestone cave, Gyokusendo, the second biggest in Japan. It was formed over the past 300,000 years and measures 15 kilometers in length, although only a little less than 1 kilometer is accessible to the public. And accessible it is: there’s a metal walkway with guardrails and at the end there’s an escalator, so you don’t have to climb stairs all the way up again.

The most impressive part is right at the beginning: once you descend the first flight of stairs, you face an absolutely massive room full of stalactites and stalagmites. It’s pretty dark in here, but there are enough lights to find your way and take pictures without needing excessive flash. And although mankind has carved itself a path through the cave, it’s definitely still a natural beauty. The cave narrows the further you get, and at one point they’ve had to carve a pathway through the stalactites since they had gotten too dense. The big dangers here are tripping as the ceiling drips incessantly, and hitting your head against a stalactite, haha.

Here and there, special places were marked and occasionally got special lights, like a blue pool of water and a waterfall.

Overall, I really enjoyed this walk, especially since it was only 21 C down here, haha. That was quite the clash once I got back outside, with 30 C and sun. The cave exit leads you into the Kingdom Village, which is full of work shops that all require additional fees, and a bunch of souvenir shops. Uh, yeah, it’s a bit overly commercial here, haha, but I was prepared for that and thus didn’t really mind. Outside the cave they were selling commemorative pictures which they had taken before entering the actual cave, so I uh, caved and got that one. I should be able to download it tomorrow too, so that’s nice! I still look very jetlagged on that picture, but hey, not a lot of full-body shots of me here otherwise, haha. It’s all selfies or nothing.

I walked through Kingdom Village fairly quickly, although it looked very nice. Scents of all kinds of food were mingling, and that didn’t exactly do wonders to my stomach along with the heat. I most definitely skipped out on the snake show (thankfully you can opt out of paying for that in the first place) and looked up my bus times. Still plenty of time left, and thus I crossed the street to find a café.

Not just any café, however – the Cave Café! Across the street lies the Gangala valley. You can only take a tour if you make reservations, and I’d juuuust come out of a cave, but you can still take a seat and have a drink at the café. Which was really cool, because it is indeed inside a cave, with stalactites dripping above you. They served soft drinks with flavored ice blocks, so I asked for the most popular combination (lemon and – something) and took a seat.

After soaking in the cool air and the pretty views for a while, I went out to find the bus stop. The bus took me back to my starting point, about 9 minutes away from my hotel, but I wasn’t done yet for today! No, I boarded the next bus which brought me to the Okinawa Prefectural Museum. Although I must confess I rushed into the nearest shopping center first to find a bathroom and a water tap, haha.

After that, I walked to the museum and got myself a ticket for the general exhibition in the historic museum, skipping out of the art museum and special exhibitions as it was already close to 4 PM. I didn’t have to rush, though, since the museum is open until 8 PM on Fridays and Saturdays.

And I’m happy I didn’t have to rush, because whoa, this museum is packed! I got a free audio guide, which came with 50 (!) audio spots, and consisted of a map with a digital pen. You set the pen to your preferred language and then tapped the audio spot on the map. To be fair, if you listen to all audio clips, it takes much longer to make your way through, haha, but it definitely added to the experience.

The museum has a very impressive opening with a glass floor looking down into the coral life that surrounds the islands of Okinawa prefecture. Right in the first hall, there’s a relief map on the floor of the islands, and with light projections, they show how the islands were formed over the ages. The history museum really lived up to its name and covered the entire history of the Ryukyu islands right from the earliest human being discovered there, to the kings and culture, until the eventual 17th century invasion by Satsuma (currently Kagoshima in the south of Japan) and eventually annexed by Japan in 1879 as the Okinawa prefecture, only to be briefly under USA command following the horrific and devastating Battle of Okinawa in 1945. Okinawa was returned to Japan in the 70s, but the relationship remains difficult as many Ryukyuans feel independent of Japan. Sure enough, Ryukyu culture is a mix of Japanese, Chinese and other influences and yet has its own character, and even managed to remain a kingdom under Satsuma and Japan, be it with adjustments to become a vassal state. Current concerns are the loss of Ryukyu identity due to mixing with Japan and Japanese attempts to push their language and culture onto Okinawa.

So yeah, pretty difficult topics presented in a mostly neutral manner, but there was still more to discover. The natural history part went into length about the unique eco systems of Okinawa’s different islands, with very specific species of insects, birds and so on that got cut off from the rest of the world early on and now only exist here. They went the extra mile and replicated the environments here, trees and all, with animals hiding in between the trees for you to find (not live ones, of course).

Other parts of the museum discussed all aspects of life, including funerals, and this is where I truly learnt why the urns at the Tamaudun Mausoleum were surprisingly big. They do not contain ashes, since cremation wasn’t par of the course back then. Instead, once the body had decomposed, there was a bone washing ceremony and then the bones were deposited into the urn, their actual final resting place. Apparently the urns are now sought after because they’re pretty and there have already been instances or grave robbing… Geesh.

Aside from that slightly disturbing note, there were more folklore exhibits, such as the dressing up as the gods, which was on tv the other day and confused me completely, haha. The person dressed up as god, Miruku, supposedly comes from across the sea (which is something akin to heaven for people living on an island) and brings good fortune. Other gods must be appeased as they might bring bad omens. And unlike mainland Japan, it’s the women here who are spiritually superior and communicate with the deities as priestesses. I think I could have watched an entire museum on that topic alone, haha, but they did a good job covering the basics here considering how broad their scope is.

There are also a couple of traditional buildings outside, but I didn’t stay there for long since well, I just visited the Nakamura house already, haha. And I was getting really, really tired – although I had a great time at the museum, I was secretly kind of glad to be through. It made for an interesting contrast with Okinawa world, although I can’t say the latter felt super ingenuine or something. Just – commercially inclined. But I’m not sure in how far Okinawan/Ryukyu culture is actually oppressed and in how far it is akin to what I’ve heard the Ainu people on Hokkaido say: that they feel they had to put on a costume to even show their culture at all. I don’t think that’s the case here, but I’m way too uninformed still to say something sensible about that on Okinawa, so I’ll leave that to your discretion. Maybe I’m just spouting sleep-deprived nonsense here, who knows, haha.

After that contemplation, I had a (slightly too big, but still) delicious dinner in the mall, which hosts several traditionally Japanese food stands, and then walked to the bus stop on the other side of the road. Technically the wait for the bus meant that I could just walk back to my hotel and arrive there at the same time, but it had been a long day and it was past 7 PM, which means it’s dark here, so uh, the bus it is, haha.

And now I’m back in my hotel! Longest day so far, so I don’t know what I’m up to for tomorrow. I have enough to choose from, that’s for sure! Photos will be up soon, and thank you for reading all of that. See you tomorrow!

#report #japan 2019 #report: japan 2019

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