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#well apparently a lot of people do but i wish they would at least be somewhat normal about it and not weirdly invasive

nxrrislando · 26 days

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VILLAINISED ೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 m.verstappen

𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — ᝰ.ᐟ SMAU

PLOT ━━･❪ When her job is at risk and her least favourite person becomes her most trusted or in other words her enemy becomes her love ❫

WARNINGS ━━･❪ everything written is fake and for the purpose of entertainment, sexual innuendos, mature language, not proofread ❫

my fics!

( NEWS ARTICLE — SEPTEMBER, 2023 )

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5h ago — click here!

( INSTAGRAM STORY — SEPTEMBER, 2023 )

maxverstappen1

posted on their story — 22h ago

viewed by landonorris, charlesleclerc and 2,654,541 others replies to your story

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yourusername

uploaded a post — 9h ago

📍 - london, united kingdom

liked by yourbestfriend and 62,233 others

yourusername ok?

view all 787 comments

username snakeeeeeee

username someone’s in troubleeee

username know you were suspended from the italian and singaporian grand prix, but why are you in london? potential meeting with rbr in Milton Keynes?

username I heard a bunch of checos team who had been suspended are all there for a hearing this week and checo and max are gonna be there. username @ username why would checo and max be there? username @ username because apparently yn ln has been getting the worst of it from the media even tho everyone in the team is under investigation, and checo has been very vocal about media’s finger pointing at her. idk why max is here tho, cause they’ve never gotten along

username they could never make me hate you pookie

username what makes me laugh is that yn is getting the worst of the media surrounding the investigation just because she’s RUMOURED to have received an offer from another team, not confirmed to have been offered a position nor even rumoured to accept it. the media is absolute bs.

username no wonder max doesn’t like you. traitor

username get rid of women in motorsport

username nice take sexist moron.

username so many people more deserving of this position.

username using all my birthday wishes on you getting fired during the hearing this week🤷🏼‍♂️

username how pathetic, how old are you 7?

username dududu max verstappen

username lol this is what you get for disliking my goat

username max defo celebrating somewhere that he can finally get rid of you

( IMESSAGE — SEPTEMBER, 2023 )

unknown

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yourusername

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viewed by maxverstappen1, and 47,806 others replies to your story

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formularacingnews

posted on their story — 1h ago

viewed by maxverstappen1, and 799,806 others replies to your story

username yn ln has finally been cleared, WAR IS OVER

username the investigation has taken so long god. it’s been nearly a month

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yourusername

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liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend and 78,211 others

yourusername brazil you are beautiful🤍

view all 642 comments

username the 5th pic???

username FACTS

username max is in the likes, and has been on her past several posts…hmm

username he’s always relatively early as well, no longer fighting???

username are you really leaving at the end of the season???

username WHAT?? username @ username yeah she said in a live that months ago her life was hell with the media and that whole situation and that she wants to do engineering for road legal cars rather than motorsport, so she’s leaving at the end of the season to work at bugatti. but she also said that something great came out of the experience that’s making her really happy so she wouldn’t change it for the world (lots of people think it’s max and that they’re dating cause they seem to gravitate to each other in group settings which they NEVER did before)

username max and yn? i see you guys in the 5th pic 🫣

username please use the gf affect to get max to stop wearing redbull merch🙏🏽

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yourusername

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yourusername favourite person

view all 707 comments

username I TOLD YOU ALL SO

username I love them so bad already my gosh

username enemies to lovers core🫡

maxverstappen1 hate sex does the trick ( love you btw)

yourusername WHAT DONT SAY THAT (love you too) landonorris mum pick me up I’m scared

username this was not on my 2023 bingo card unlike how max winning the world title was but nether the less i love it

charlesleclerc he’s only been obsessed with you since his karting days, finally!!

maxverstappen1 shut up yourusername aw username WHAT since the karting days??

maxverstappen1 mooisteee🤍 — (most beautiful)

yourusername 🤍🤍

dutch translation by my belgian pookie bear @edwardslvrr 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

#f1 fanfic #formula one #f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smau

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piichuu · 7 months

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♡ AN UNWANTED LETTER - GOJO SATORU

WARNINGS: MAJOR SPOILERS if you haven’t seen the new jjk leaks, so read on your own risk. angst, f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

yuta is quiet as he reaches a letter over to you. he’s standing in the doorway with a somber look on his face. “you should go sit down somewhere, i’ll stay here in the hallway,” he mumbles and without a word, you make your way towards the bedroom where you sit down, opening up the letter you’ve been given.

“to my dear y/n.

if you receive this letter, i will be dead. that’s a horrible sentence to start with, but it’s the truth. it’s not that i don’t believe in my own capabilities, but i can’t leave you with nothing if i die, that would make you even sadder.

i’m giving this to yuta, he’ll look after you now for a few weeks, i’ve made him promise because i know you’re gonna be crying, probably become depressed. if you do get depressed, i’m gonna be there and hold you close, even if you can’t feel it. my pretty girl, i know i always tell you that you’re pretty when you cry, but i hate when you do so. i prefer your smile, to know you’re happy. your laugh is a little funny, but i prefer it that way, because no one laughs like you and i love that you’re your own person, not faking anything for me.

i’m a little (very) sad that i won’t get to have a family with you or put a ring on your finger. will it hurt you more if i told you that i was going to propose when i got back? probably, but now you know. i wish we could have our own little children who would run around the house and annoy you. they would love me of course, they would get to do everything they wanted to. they would get to eat so much candy and play video games with me. maybe they could help you cook every once in a while since you always insist to cook when i tell you than i can do that to! you would be a great mom, the greatest of them all actually. all those years you helped me take care of megumi showed that. he loves you a lot even if he’s never told you, but i can see that he sees you as his mom, hopefully he sees me as a dad as well.

he’s always clung to you more than me. i remember when i found you two asleep on the couch after you had read him a bed time story. you looked so cute and he was holding onto your hand so tightly like he really trusted you. it hurts me to say, but you’ve probably always been his favorite. even now that he’s older he likes you more than me :( but that makes me a little happy as well, because he’s always so stone faced around everyone else but you. you make him smile and that makes me happy :)

apparently people who’ve had a partner who has died always say that they would want them to find someone else, but even if i want you to be happy, that thought makes me a little sad. but if you do ever find someone else who you love as much as you love me (which is impossible), i hope he treats you like the princess you are or else i’ll have to haunt him. i’m not joking. and if you do have kids, please tell them about me? i’m sure they will think i was super cool. my death is probably gonna be called the coolest deaths of them all, i hope!

i’m sorry if i’m joking too much, at this point i’m sure you’re bawling. but just know that i’m right behind you with my arms around you, okay? maybe you can’t feel it but i’m giving you a kiss on the cheek right at this moment.

don’t be too sad, okay? but also take the time you need to heal, i don’t want you to rush anything. it’s okay to be sad, so cry how much you want, but not for the rest of your life please because that would make me sad :( you should try to smile at least once a day so i can look at you and know that there might be at least some things that are making your days good.

you’re gonna meet me again, don’t worry. but please don’t put yourself in danger just so you can see me again. i want you to live until you’re old and then we’ll meet each other when you reach heaven with me, because that’s where i’m going! i’m gonna watch over you and wait, i have all the time in the world now so grow old and do everything you’ve ever dreamt of.

just know that i didn’t die without putting on a fight. it must be going on for a while before i die, but i’m gonna try to do my best not to die because i want to see you so bad and just hug you and kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are. but you will always be the prettiest human ever, no matter how many wrinkles you have or if your back gets all hunched in the future.

i have a whole bottle of perfume in our bedroom that i bought a while ago, but i haven’t really used it a lot since i’ve been gone for a while now, so you can use that and spray it all over the house if you miss me too much. good thing i bought that stuffy for you before i went to shibuya!

i need to end this letter now. i’m sorry for not being able to see now for a while, but we will meet in a couple of years. i’m always gonna look after you now that i’m gone, so there will never be anything to worry about. i hope you will be okay and that you aren’t crying too much now :( but i know that you’re still just as pretty as always. i can’t believe that i got the best girlfriend in the entire world to spend my life with, even if i would’ve wished my life would be longer. you’ve made me so happy over the years and i really hope i’ve made you happy too, even if you’re probably sad because of me now.

yuta and the others will look after you, i promise. maybe you’ll be annoyed with them, but that’s because i sent them and i’m made to be a little annoying, so you won’t get rid of the annoyance too easily! i’m gonna watch over you for a good while now, i’m always listening to every word you say, even if i’m not somewhere you can see me. if you ever have a bad day, tell the sky and i will hear every single word. cry your eyes out and i will wipe your tears away.

my love, my one and only. i love you more than you can ever imagine. you’re my sun, you’re what’s been keeping me alive for the past few years and don’t ever blame yourself for anything that’s happened to me. you are the greatest thing in my life and have been healing my soul. i will forever love you. from your idiot boyfriend <3”

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figgrrr0 · 1 year

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Hii im new here! Found your blog by chance and I love how you write! Would you be able to write wanderer x jealous!reader on valentines day? Lets say Wanderer has got a lot of admirers from the akademiya and reader is just silently furious abt it but doesnt say anything. When Wanderer finds out he fucks them nicely and praise them/ reassures them <333

Apparently I struggle to do angry jealousy, I just make it sad... but it's light this time! And soft.

Also it feels so weird writing Wanderer as a name??

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Valentine's with Wanderer

Character: Top!Wanderer/Scaramouche

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: Classic Scara misunderstandings, praise/reassurance, fingering, soft sex, slight angst(?) it's more hinted I guess

Plot: A little // Word count: 1.9k

Valentine's Day: a day of love, gifts, and showing appreciation for your partner.

Usually, everyone tries to take the day off, freeing up their schedule so that they can focus entirely on the occasion, however it may be that they want to spend it. Which is why you were quite surprised to find yourself alone in bed when you woke up in the morning.

Now, that's not when you started feeling doubt. After all, maybe Wanderer, your boyfriend of the past few months, was in the kitchen. Breakfast in bed is a traditional start to Valentine's Day, and an easy way to get in anyone's good books. But, when you heard nothing after a few minutes of waiting, – no clanking of cutlery or slamming of cabinets – you just had to go see where he was.

Unluckily for you, all you could find was a little note, hastily sprawled and left waiting on the counter:

"I'll be gone for a while, don't wait up for me. I left you some breakfast in the cupboard, it might need heating up if you stay in bed too long, but that's not my fault...

–Happy Valentine's Day."

As usual, his handwriting is kind of hard to read; quick and messy. But, at least he did technically make you breakfast, even if he also alluded to you being lazy.

However, what most takes your attention, is the blotch of ink that splattered right at the end of "fault". It was as if he were hesitating to let go, to pick up the pen and leave it at that.

Which is why you felt oddly warm at the fact that the last part was perfectly legible and obviously had been written slower than the rest.

Even though you know Wanderer isn't particularly fond of outright expressing his feelings, you thought that surely, today of all days, he could push aside his own pride for you. Even just a little. Maybe that was too high of an expectation. His ambitions never let him take a break, so why would he take one for a made-up holiday?

Well... at least he's aware enough of your excitement for the day to acknowledge it first thing in the morning, even if he wasn't there to actually say it.

But, you knew that with Wanderer, everything would be awkward and touchy the first time around. You had to move slowly. Baby steps, you remind yourself, as you head back to your shared room to start getting ready.

It's only the start of the day.

...

You wish it weren't Valentine's Day.

Every street was lined with couples, each and every one of them holding hands, carrying flowers... things that you should be doing with your boyfriend right now.

And it didn't help that you felt like everyone was judging you for being alone, especially when most of them likely knew who you were dating. It's not like you hadn't seen them staring before now.

You couldn't blame them, really. Wanderer had shown up in Sumeru suddenly and didn't feel especially inclined to explain himself, so of course people would be curious. You just didn't like the way that their eyes would... linger after him. Even when you were there! And on the rare day that Wanderer was comfortable enough to let you hold onto him in public, the admiring stares turned to full-blown jealousy.

Now, what was wrong with that? Shouldn't that be an ego boost for you? You'd thought so too, at first. But then you realised that just meant they'd want to try and steal him from you.

You thought you could put up with it at first. After all, you knew that Wanderer wouldn't stand for anyone else touching him or getting in his way other than you. You trusted him just fine. You didn't trust the average Akademiya goer, though. They all seemed to think they were entitled to have whatever – or whoever – they wanted, just because they'd gotten into the prestigious school at all.

You'd tried to bring up your concerns to Wanderer about the whispers going around and the jealous looks you'd get when walking through the streets or halls of the Akademiya. Almost instantaneously, he shut down your complaints, finding the words so easily that it almost felt as though he hadn't even tried.

"Tch... they're annoying and only want to waste our time. Just ignore them like I do."

That response was actually exactly what you'd expected to hear, and while you were grateful for his straightforward answer, you'd wanted a more... passionate outcome. Something to show he cared.

That definitely isn't what you got, considering he didn't even look at you when he said it.

After that, you didn't want to bring up the same problem again. Especially not on Valentines Day, even though he'll probably come home having been confessed to over twenty times in the past hour alone. Okay, maybe you were over-exaggerating a little, but it really didn't feel like it to you. Plus, it's the day of love! You're allowed a little leeway for feeling paranoid, right?

Maybe this evening will be better, when Wanderer finally comes come.

...

As you walk through the door, you're instantly met with a faint smell that you recognised to be the lavender lemongrass scented candles that you kept around the house. Of course, this clued you in to the fact that Wanderer must already be home. But what solidified this, was that when you walked through the doorway, there he was, waiting for you standing next to a vase of beautifully arranged flowers. It was mainly made up of your favourite flower, along with some of the famous Valentine's flowers as well, such as roses, carnations, and even some daisies.

Most likely, it was thought up by the florist that he went to. But at least he knew your favourite flower, as well as followed the tradition of buying them for you at all.

Often times, it was unusual for him to initiate physical touch with you; even though he was comfortable with you, he still just wasn't used to it yet. Tonight, however, he seemed to have no trouble in walking right up to you, taking your hand to guide you into the living room, where you could both just relax in each other's company. The calming lavender lemongrass candles eased your mood quite well, and you were happy that your Wanderer had really tried for Valentine's day.

...

You had a lovely evening with your boyfriend, cuddling on the couch as you spoke in hushed voices about anything and everything (even if he was slightly apprehensive to start), the lovely atmosphere of romantic music quietly flooding through from the street.

And even though it had felt perfect, as you get ready to retire for the night, the candles having gone out a while ago, you can't help but feel the uncertainty from before start to overtake your thoughts again.

Resigning yourself to forget about it, you get into your side of the bed, your Wanderer already having been waiting for you to return. But he can tell that something in your mood has changed almost as soon as he lays his eyes on you again.

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

He leans forward, showing his engagement. "Bullshit. If you don't tell me, there's nothing I can do to help you get over it."

"I just... those people from the Akademiya... they're still bothering me." You look down at your hands.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second, "I've told you to just ignore them. There's nothing I can do to control how people think of you, or me, or us."

"I can't just ignore them!" You whine, "They're always looking at us when we're together... it's making me worried..."

At that, he looks over at you, his eyes scrunching as he thinks your words over. "Worried about what?"

Not sure how to say it, you move yourself to lay against him. Your back is pressed to his chest now, and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck helps to soothe your thoughts just enough for you to find the words:

"...I don't want them to take you from me..."

Now, it's Wanderer's turn to be silent. Now, he realises the mistake he'd made in telling you to just ignore those insignificant people; by ignoring the problem himself, he'd made you focus on it more. Of course you'd be feeling worried about this, he'd shut it down the first time you'd tried bringing it up.

You didn't need to just forget about it. You needed to work through it so that you could forget about it.

After almost a minute of tense silence, you're surprised when you feel his lips press gently to the back of your neck, accompanied moments later by his arm curling around you, pulling you ever closer against him. His hand rests over the place where your heart rests, while the other intertwines your fingers with his against your stomach, as if caging in the butterflies that start to flutter.

"Allow me to try again..." He presses a kiss to your ear before speaking again, "you don't need to think about them, or what I think about them." The hand on your heart shifts to cup your chest, your breath wavering when his hand brushes over your hardening nipples. "Because I'll never want anyone but you."

Then, the night is almost a blur.

Wanderer sneakily pulls a bottle of rose scented lube from under the pillow, liberally gathering some as he starts to stretch you out on his fingers. The scent slowly fills the room, intoxicating you on the heady fragrance, allowing it to pull you deeper into the moment.

He steadily pushes his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you, never slowing until after you've cum around his lubed up digits. Your hand finds purchase with the one on your chest, tightening your grip around him as you come down from the residual high.

He's whispering short encouragements to you while you collect your breath, the moans you'd been letting out dying on your tongue. Wanderer slowly lifts your leg, allowing him to guide his hard cock to finally, finally press against your hole, not making you wait to feel him as the slowly pushes in.

You don't need to adjust much, the lube and his attentive fingers having done the work well enough that only the comforting sensation of being full registers in your core. He starts thrusting when you signal that you're ready, his pace is easy and the power behind his hips is controlled enough to pull a soft moan from you with each stroke. It's different from what you're used to, but it's good. So good. And what makes it better is the hushed and stuttered, "I love you," and, "You're the only one that matters," that gets breathed into your shoulder as you both approach your shared climax.

The next morning, you wake up to find your Wanderer exactly where he ended last night; right next to you in your bed. You close your eyes contentedly, knowing you'll never have to worry about him being taken from you.

He's your Wanderer.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche #wanderer x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #Writing for an ask~🩷

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thestargayzingheroine · 2 months

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Why A Better World is my favourite "Evil Superman" Story

So in the last two decades or so, there's been a notable amount of dark and edgy stories around superheroes turning evil and whatnot and most of them really love to do their own expies of Superman. I've never been the biggest fans of these kinds of stories.

And then there's the actual stories of Superman and other heroes being outright villains or at least just massive assholes. In recent years, this has been largely thanks to the influence of media like the Injustice Games or the Synderverse DC movies. It's... honestly become a trope I am tired of.

Because you know the damnest thing? There is a story that does all these ideas really damn well and arguably better. It is the two-parter from the Justice League cartoon "A Better World".

Now, I am aware how most people favouring the DCAU has become a bit of toxic nostalgia at times and it's something I myself am trying to work through a bit. But in this case, I do think it's the best idea of doing an evil DC story, much better and more interesting than the Crime Syndicate, who if you ask me are not very interesting, though I do remember liking the Crisis On Two Earths movie a lot, which funny enough, was originally going to be this two parter before various things led to it being canned and then later repurposed as a direct to DVD movie.

Anyway, my main crux of why I love this story is simple... The entire Justice League turns evil... and the reasons are very much in-character for all of them. You look at the scene with Justice Lord Batman for example.

youtube

As fucking evil as the Justice Lords are... Batman can't quite fully hate his alternate self for his reason for taking part in all this being basically one-step further than his own mission, that no child should ever go through what he did. Hell, I recall reading that the reason the writers had Batman drop his batarang at the end of this scene... was because he genuinely wouldn't be able to come up with an argument to that.

youtube

Superman likewise kills Lex Luthor because yeah, Luthor literally exploited the flaws in Democracy and became president of the US, threatening to kinda basically start world war 3. It's obviously horrible... but Superman is a character whose main motivation is making the world a better place. And if people who abuse the systems of power of the world are hurting people, why shouldn't Superman put a stop to that?

And yeah, Superman should obviously never kill, he's the most paragon of paragons of the DC universe, a man committed to always being better than the villains he fights... but this is him pushed to his most logical extreme. Hell, the main Superman knows this and its why Lex used his knowledge of this alternate universe as part of his plan in the season after this, to goad our Superman into crossing the line because yeah, there's a part of him that could go this far.

But right as Superman is about to apparently finish him, the big guy says this.

"I'm not the man who killed President Luthor. I wish to heaven that I were but I'm not."

Because Superman like everyone else, obviously would have those same thoughts and same urges. He's human.

I've kinda gone off Injustice a bit because to be honest... the injustice games were kinda just this but a bit too edgelordy. Hell, in A Better World, Lois Lane still lives and the whole genesis of it doesn't revolve around her getting fridged.

So yeah, A Better World is probably one of my favourite mirror universe stories because of the fact that well... it really is like looking in a mirror and seeing just how easy the greatest heroes can become evil and how they wouldn't be massively out of character doing so. But also it reminds us that as much as this darkness can tempt some of our finest, the ones who don't go down this dark path are stronger in heart than anyone else. Because when the world becomes a dark and horrible place, it becomes very easy to be just as dark. But even though it can be hard to still try and be a good person even in dark times, it's ultimately worth it. Because good always triumphs over evil.

#dc #superman #batman #dcau #justice league #justice lords #essay post #Youtube

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theskit · 11 months

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Stickers AU

Important!!!

On the mobile app, direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Also, due to the apparent shadow banning of people with long tag lists, I will make a master post that people can subscribe to for updates.

Part 10

Master Post

《Prev

Red Hood and Nightwing coming to the cave on Sunday night with tales of their own encounters with the sticker kid had unfortunately not given them as much to work with as Tim had hoped.

Jason was tagging along more to hear about their encounters and to see the rest of the stickers than providing much in the way of evidence himself, what with having his helmet cams and comms shorted out for the duration of his encounter and not bringing his own sticker with him.

There was some friction when Batman and Robin made it back to the cave, it being a fairly slow evening for Gotham with no sign of the kid, which made sense if he'd gone all the way to Bludhaven to bother Nightwing.

Bruce had wanted to compile all the evidence together, and while Dick had been obliging, after they'd gotten the frankly hilarious sticker off of him, Jason had promptly refused to hand his over. Much like Damian, he'd claimed it as his own and would hear nothing else about it, only providing a picture of it after a lot of coaxing from Dick.

The corrupted audio/video file had also been less than helpful. Besides a flurry of green-tinted gray static snow and laughter so distorted it almost sounded like screaming, there was nothing else recoverable.

The sheer degradation of the files was actually impressive. That was either very good tech, or a very strong meta ability. Either way, they needed to find this kid and figure out what was up with him.

Dick at least had managed to both lay eyes on and semi-converse with the kid, though that was also bringing up questions. Such as: how did he get out of a dead-end alleyway? Which, while similar to the disappearing acts he'd pulled in Gotham, those had at least been on rooftops with clear, if possibly inadvisable, access to escape routes all around. As well as the question on why the kid was wearing a blood stained hoodie.

Yes, they had figured he'd injured himself to some degree last night, but why hadn't he changed out of those clothes? Did he not have access to more? Was the kid in a bad living situation here in Gotham instead of having come in with the rest of the out of towners for the ghost hunting convention and the stickers were something unconnected to him that he'd somehow gotten ahold of?

If that was the case, they might be looking at some sort of meta trafficking escapee, since the boy's accent very much labeled him as not a native Gothamite and most people would not move here with a meta ability with Batman's supposed dislike of metas in Gotham. A stance Bruce had taken more to discourage metas from possibly getting targeted by the revolving door of Gotham's Rouge gallery than any real prejudice.

Despite everything, the convention was still their best lead, so it was decided they would go investigate as civilians tomorrow for the last half-day it would be held and try to find more clues.

The description of a short, young male, with blue eyes and dark hair, an echoey voice, possibly still wearing a bloodstained hoodie, was not a lot go to off of in a crowd of hundreds. Maybe they would get lucky and find where the stickers came from, which might give them more of a lead.

Bruce was reconsidering the effectiveness of coming to the convention as Brucie Wayne instead of the small time criminal Matches Malone, regardless of how that may have effected that alias, as he was accosted by another non-gothamite.

Bruce had forgotten how those outside of Gotham tended to act around celebrities. People native to Gotham usually had a strong mind-your-own-business attitude regardless of where on the social scale they happened to fall.

Smiling for yet another photo, Bruce hoped his slightly-less-widely-recognized children were having more luck moving around the convention to check for leads, having abandoned him to fend for himself after the third photo ambush.

Coming on the last half-day might have also been a miscalculation, even if they hadn't had much of a choice with the timing, as it seemed to make people even bolder, knowing they would leave the city in a few short hours.

Dick was having fun roaming around the convention. Seeing all the booths set up with either crystals, tarot cards and other mystical odds and ends or EMF meters, magnetic field detectors and more scientific equipment for ghost hunting.

It all mostly went over his head, but it was interesting to talk with different people and hear all the differing accounts and history, both historical and personal, behind their choice of what equipment or mystical dodad worked best.

He'd even seen a few people cosplaying as The Ghost Busters, and he swore he'd seen a couple in full hazmat suits for a moment before he lost them in the crowd.

He had forgotten how interesting conventions could be when they weren't constantly crashed by Rogues. Dick would have to try and find time to go to more of them. The eccentricities on display reminded him fondly of all the different personalities you could find in a circus.

Damian scowled as he made his way through the crowds. This was ridiculous. There was no practical use for most of the things displayed in the various booths, as most wardings against Pit demons needed to be cast by those with magical or mystical bloodlines as far as he was aware, and to date there was no known scientific way to capture or quantify Pit demons.

Most of the 'evidence' provided by both sides was also suspect. Generally involving blurry photographs and 'spooky vibes'.

There was also a marked dearth of younger people in the crowds. Mostly consisting of small children accompanying their parents with few teenagers, such as a redhead female approximately his age he'd spied a time or two due to the eye catching color of her hair, to be seen.

Jason had decided to leave the convention a little early. Despite the fun he had watching Bruce get mobbed by out of towners with his Brucie mask on, something about wandering the crowds was riling up the Pit.

Maybe it was the crowds themselves, all those people blatantly not from Gotham, who *did not belong* here. Or maybe all the talk of death and ghosts and what came after, but *something* had his aggression ramping up out of the blue as he made his way around the convention.

Randomly feeling the need to punch something wasn't exactly new, but the sheer number of times he'd started seeing green out of nowhere was worrying, so he'd called it quits.

He'd check in with Dick later to see if any new leads had been found.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief as Jazz came to collect him. Everything was already packed up in the RV and it was time to grab whatever he wanted for the ride back as their parents wanted to get ahead of the leaving crowd.

He'd been feeling something wandering the convention for the last few hours. Not quite enough to set off his ghost sense, but definitely at least ghostly-adjacent.

He'd been doing his best to navigate away from the feeling any time it drew near, not wanting a fight to break out between him and whatever territorial spirit had decided it was a good idea to haunt ghost hunters.

Hitting up a nearby coffee shop for a hilariously named Deathwish coffee and a pastry for the road, Danny saw a guy wander in, take in the line almost out the door, and nearly fall into a seat instead.

Holding his head in his hands, it looked like the guy was almost nodding off where he sat. Poor dude had eyebags darker than Danny had the time Technus, Skulker, Ember and a swarm of Blob ghosts had all decided the night before a major test was a great time to invade Amity with their shenanigans.

Taking pity, Danny ordered a second coffee, handing it to the guy with a little surprise attached before heading out. Hopefully it would brighten his day a little.

"You look like you could use this."

Tim glanced up from his seat at the coffeeshop table as a younger teen placed a large coffee cup and a few napkins down on the table.

The other boy was out the door before Tim could even fully process that some kind soul had taken pity on him and saved him from having to stand an eternity in line before getting his hands on the much needed caffeine.

Blessing whoever it was silently, Tim took a large swallow, closing his eyes a moment as the strong coffee helped kick his brain back into gear. Ahh, Deathwish, my beloved, hallowed be thy beans.

Standing up, he grabbed the couple of napkins to take with him, feeling an odd stiffness to them. Shifting the top napkin out of the way, Tim boggled at the sticker staring back at him for a moment before bolting out the door.

Looking around frantically, he was just in time to see the boy on the other side of the road, getting into a frankly absurdly proportioned vehicle before it sped down the street, barely keeping from sideswiping at least three other cars before careening around a corner and out of sight.

Well, he thought as he glanced from the sticker to where the vehicle had disappeared, at least something that... distinctive, should be easy to track down...

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @solarisaetherlumine @zeldomnyo

#Stickers AU #dpxdc #theskit writes #danny makes his own stickers :3 #and now danny is running around gotham like a gremlin #with a pocket full of homemade stickers #whatever will he do with them? 😈#now Tim finally has his own personal sticker!#he was feeling slightly left out that only his bike got a sticker when everyone else got one personally

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for calling the cops (twice, kind of) on someone in a car who swerved at me on the side of the road?

(Disclaimer: I hate cops. But I felt extremely threatened and wasn't going to let this go without something happening.)

I am a high school student and have not yet gotten my license, and therefore cannot drive alone. To get to school I ride an electric scooter, it looks a bit stupid as a high schooler but it is the only way possible for me to get to school on time. (I have a class before school in the morning, and both parents have work.) I've been doing this for over three years and have had no problems until recently.

Two or three weeks ago, I was on my way home from school. I noticed a car approaching from behind, and moved to the very edge of the road as I would normally. I was literally in the gutter on the side of the road, nowhere near where cars would be. This car, however, then sped up rapidly and swerved within 2-3 feet of hitting me. Probably not trying to actually hit me, but clearly trying to scare me or something of the sort. The person in the passenger seat was screaming the whole time.

The car sped off (I should mention that the speed limit on this road is 25 mph, and the car was going at least 50-60 mph) and after standing in shock for a moment I followed them home since they apparently lived in my neighborhood. I caught two teenage boys leaving the car, and asked if they had been in that car and had swerved at me on the road. They denied everything and went inside the house.

I went home and after a short while, came back with my father to back me up. Asshole move from me, I know, but he insisted on going in case the boys decided to get violent. I made him wait a short distance back, then rang the doorbell. Waited for a while, no answer. They were clearly still inside; the car was still parked on the road nearby and I hadn't been gone for long.

When they didn't answer, I then went home and called the police. I gave them the license plate number and the guy's address, and they said there had been reports of him speeding and being reckless before. The cops went to the house and yelled at them, and I thought it was over then. I most certainly did not want to press the issue any further, the shock and adrenaline was wearing off at this point and I just wanted to be done.

But several days later, I was sent screenshots of the driver of that car spreading hate about me on Snapchat for getting him in trouble. Now this is kind of difficult to explain, but I am unfortunately somewhat well known for riding an electric scooter to school. But up until this point, people just were aware of my existence. After the Snapchat posts and messages about me were spread, all of that turned into pure hate. Every time I was seen with that stupid scooter, people would scream that they wished I would fall and stuff like that. None of this had happened before, and I was (and am) miserable and scared. I don't feel safe anywhere around school because this is still ongoing.

I also tried to contact him via Instagram messages, to which he did not respond. That was three times that I attempted to contact him: first by following him as he was getting out of the car, second by ringing the doorbell, and third by messaging him.

Two days ago, I got my mom to pull me out of school early because I was feeling like crap after some particularly bad harassment in the morning. In the office as I was asking to sign out, I started crying in front of the school police officer, and she asked for the full story. I told her about the online posts and the catcalling and harassment I dealt with every day, and she took it very seriously. I didn't want her to do anything really, but she did anyway (I'm not upset about this honestly, it was probably a good thing). She said that the patrol officers usually didn't do much about stuff like this, but she could and would do a lot more.

She pulled the guy out of his class after I had left to go home, and in her words "put the fear of God in that kid"; telling him he should have lost his license and that since he was 18 he could face real consequences and go to jail for stuff like this. He has been told that he has to stay at least three feet away from me at all times.

Since then, he hasn't said anything to me in person, and hasn't posted anything publicly online. I still don't feel safe at school or anywhere in the area, but I've been taking an alternate route to try to avoid being seen and yelled at as much.

Am I the asshole? I honestly think we both might be, but I do feel somewhat justified by the fact that he at least got some sort of consequence for threatening my life like that and causing that level of problem.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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swanimagines · 2 months

Text

CONFESSIONS OF A CROW | WESPER + KAZ

Summary: Wylan thinks Jesper doesn't care about him, and you try to comfort him. For your surprise, Wylan has something to tell to you too.

The Crow Club’s game nights were loud and cheerful events, and Jesper was all over the tables, building the spirit in the room. Scent of alcohol and cigars floated in the air, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the downstairs as a whole.

Wylan and you sat at the farthest corner from the entrance, just spending time. The wooden table was slightly sticky, apparently someone had spilled alcohol on it at some point. The candle flame flickered slightly as Wylan played with it while staring at it deep in thought, and you were just about to ask what he’s thinking when he flinched upon another round of cheers and crooned his neck to look at one of the game tables. Jesper had once again won another round, making you turn your head to your friend and raise a glass for him once he caught your eyes. Then you turned your head back to Wylan, who sighed and returned to staring at the candle. You frowned, knowing to read people enough to know something was wrong. So you touched his hand to get his attention.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” you asked, and Wylan stared at you for a moment before laying his gaze down on the table.

“It’s nothing. Nothing important,” he mumbled, and you sighed, raising your eyebrows at him. He squirmed a little and then let out a sigh of his own. “I slept with Jesper.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that; sure, Jesper was sleeping around with people he met at bars and restaurants to have fun, but for this short time you had known Wylan, he didn’t feel like such a person. But you weren’t judgemental by any means, Jesper was a charmer and you could see that he’d be dragged along by Jesper after some flirting. Hell, Jesper had gotten you to blush a few times with his flirts when you first joined Dregs.

“Really? When did that happen?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“It’s been a while. Two months? Or three maybe? But… he managed me to grow feelings for him, and knowing who he is… I don’t think he’d like me back. He doesn’t even remember me.” His voice trailed off at the end, and he laid his gaze back to his hands. “I know it’s stupid.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “It’s not stupid, Wylan. A lot of people have been in your situation at some point. But you can’t let the fear of heartbreak to get in your way, you deserve to be happy and even if Jesper doesn't return your feelings, at least you know then. You won't stay in it welling and cursing yourself over not speaking up if he ever ends up being serious with someone else."

He scoffed. “Easy for you to say when you hold the heart of the Bastard of the Barrel himself. Do you even realise how I envy the way Kaz looks at you, how I would wish somebody would look at me like that? Kaz is closed off, cold and guarded, someone you wouldn’t think would like anyone, and still you have managed to catch him without even trying to win him over. Jesper is everything but like that, and still he thinks I’m nothing but a fling, just an asset for pleasure. I’d be a fool if I went to him and tell him how do I feel.”

Your heart skipped a beat at him mentioning about Kaz’s feelings for you, making you freeze up - it was true that you had been teased about it, and Kaz did have odd reasons for why he suddenly didn’t want to assign you on scouting missions anymore if the building was heavily guarded. But it wasn’t like he had feelings for you. Even when you wished it would be the reason for that.

“Kaz? What? He isn’t… no, he doesn’t, you’ve misunderstood something. And he’s my boss, it would be weird, he sees me only professionally and… I see him only professionally too,” you denied it, trying to contain your voice squeaking. Wylan raised his eyebrows at you, and you felt your face heating up when you realised he’s not buying it.

"He basically admitted it to Inej. Inej told him to let his guard down for you if he wants you to see him as anything else as your boss, and he told her that he doesn't want to drag you into his life, that you'd only get hurt when you'd see how he really is," Wylan mumbled. "Then they sensed someone is listening in so I dashed away before they caught me."

You didn't reply, just tried to calm your racing heart. You were quiet for a few seconds before you cleared your throat, trying to quickly jump away from the subject before anyone would hear you. “Anyway, Jesper is not Kaz. He’s not gonna smack you with his gun if you go and ask him if he’d be willing to talk with you. Or go on another date. If I went to Kaz’s office and asked him to come down to have a dining date with me, even if he did have feelings for me, which he doesn’t, he’d look at me as if I was crazy and either ignore me or tell me to get out his office.”

Wylan chuckled weakly at your words. “I guess you’re right about that.”

You smiled. “You should talk to Jesper. Maybe he feels the same way about you. And even if not, at least you won’t have any regrets. You won’t watch him get together with someone else and wonder why didn’t you ever say anything.”

Wylan nodded slowly, his eyes shifting back to Jesper, who had just finished playing and had made his way to the bar counter. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I should try to talk to him.”

Your smile widened as you jumped a little bit in your seat, gesturing him to go on, gently nudging him forward when he passed you. Wylan walked to Jesper slowly, talking with him for a moment before sitting down beside him, and you almost felt the connection they already had. You turned your back on them, and continued sipping on your drink as you dug up your ongoing book from your bag.

And just for a moment, you wondered if you’d ever really have chances with Kaz. If everyone pointing how Kaz looks at you and how ridiculous his reasons for taking you out from all the dangerous jobs are were actually onto something, what could it carry? Would Kaz shut it down, force himself not to feel, or would he let himself feel? Would you be there with Wylan and Jesper as a couple?

You hoped you’d get the answer for that sometime in the future, but for now, you were only happy that you had potentially helped Wylan and Jesper to get to know each other better, and maybe get together. They both deserved happiness, and you were happy if they found it within themselves.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#wylan van eck #wesper #kaz brekker x reader #reader insert #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #my works

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cabinofimagines · 3 months

Text

A Much Needed Declaration

Who doesn't love our goat boy! I suppose I should say spoilers for those who haven't read the books on this one- as it is based sometime after Battle of the Labyrinth :) Pairing: Grover Underwood x gn!reader Request: Hi guys! I hope you guys are doing good. Can I request a Grover x reader where reader is trying to tell him they like him, but they keep getting interrupted by people needing him for things and viceversa? And then finally getting to tell him? Just some cute fluff with a happy ending lol. M!reader or gn!reader are fine! Thanks :) Word count: 1.1k Warnings: None! -Asnyox

The first time you met Grover, the only thought you had through his stammered introduction was ‘he’s pretty cute’. It took a lot longer for you to find out that at some point ‘he’s cute’ grew into a crush on the kind satyr. But, you accepted that it was what it was, and maybe it would be something more at some point- but for now it was enough.

However, that was before he became a Lord of the Wild, which meant that he needed to do a lot more work around and outside of camp. At least you were allowed to go with him on his travels sometimes, but you spend less and less time with him. You didn’t blame him, but you missed him and felt him slipping away from you. Thus you decided you needed to tell him how you felt before it was too late.

You had yet to anticipate how hard it would be to get a moment alone with him. The first time you stumbled upon your friend, you didn’t get past “how are you-” before he quickly told you he had to get going or he would be late. Late for what only the gods know, but he slipped away.

The second attempt was slightly more successful- Grover was sitting at the campfire, and you sat down next to him.

“Busy week, huh?” you asked and Grover’s head shot up.

“Ah, (Y/n), I hadn’t seen you come-” Grover bleated, “I’m sorry, it has been busy.”

“Finally catching a break?” You asked, as you bumped into him lightly. Grover smiled and started leaning against you.

“Sort of, I’ve missed you.” he said as he laid his head on your shoulder. His horns had started growing out more, and you could feel them poke in your neck, but you decided not to say anything, lest you scare the poor soul.

“I’ve missed you too,” you let out a breath, “Hey, I need to tell you some-”

“Hey, G-man, do you have a moment?” Percy spoke up from beside Grover, and you glared slightly at him as Grover sat up.

“Of course! Whatcha need?” Grover sat, and Percy gestured away.

“Just wanted to check something, am I interrupting?” Percy asked. Grover looked at you, in turn. He clearly wanted to see if you needed him, but you shook your head.

“No, not really. Go ahead, I will see you soon?” you asked Grover and he nodded excitedly as he stood up and followed Percy.

Well, third time's the charm you thought as you saw your beloved goat boy stand not too far away. So, you almost sprinted towards him, smiling.

“Hey Grover! Do you have a moment-” Grover looked at you, but you could already see Chiron approaching him from behind.

“Of course I do, always for you.” he was adorable, but you shook your head, as you eyed Chiron getting closer.

“I don’t think you do- you know what, never mind.” you pouted, “Wish I wouldn’t have to make a reservation for your time just to talk to you, but it is what it is.” Grover looked confused, but you continued, “Just come to me when you have five minutes? Me approaching you is clearly not working out.” Grover was worried about what you meant, but before he could even ask what was going on you turned around and walked away. And before he could even reach out, Chiron’s voice asked for his attention.

Third time was not the charm it seemed.

Grover hadn’t seen you since then. Apparently you truly wouldn’t come to him whenever he had a moment- which normally you really had a knack for finding him just as he had nothing to do. He really hoped you weren’t angry at him- and he felt like he was irrationally anxious about the possibility of you never wanting to talk to him again. That couldn’t be it right?

So, a few days later when he hadn’t planned anything for at least an hour- a feat as far has his schedule went these days- he quickly ran to you, took your hand and dragged you away from your cabin, into the woods.

“What-” you stammered, but Grover was quick to turn around and face you.

“I have not much time but I asked the dryads to make sure no one finds us for a bit. It’s just us, no interruptions, nothing,” Grover wished he had a can to chew on and get his anxious energy out, “So, what do you need?” he asked, his voice turning soft and quiet at the last words in the sentence. Before answering you grabbed one of Grovers hands, an appreciative smile on your face.

“Grover, I need you,” you took a deep breath, “I need you too, I know you’re busy being lord of the wild and that it’s hard staying still but please, I need you to know I love you.”

Grover bleated, as he hid his face behind the hand you weren’t holding. “Do you mean-” Grover slowly lowered his hand, and he saw you nod. “I love you, romantically, goat boy.” Your heart stammered, “and if you’re not ready- or not interested, it’s fine. I’m just glad to have told you.”

“I’m too- uh I mean,” Grover shook his head, “I love you too,” You smiled, and you moved closer pressing a kiss on Grover’s cheek. “You’re all I need then,” you sighed, “now go, I know you promised the dryads something. See you at dinner?”

Grover had a dazed expression, with a big grin on his face as he nodded. “See you, love you,” he turned around, hoping that he could quickly finish the requests he still had to do today, so he could spend time with you.

And if Grover dazed off a bit more during that day, nobody asked questions. Grover realized that he needed you too, and that he perhaps needed a bit of a break. A picnic sounded nice, or going to that one secluded spot that he found while he was doing favors for a herd of sheep last week. Yeah, he was elated thinking of you smiling, surrounded by nature, and him being the reason for it. Would you enjoy berries or bread more at the picnic?

#request #requests #grover underwood x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fluff #gn!reader #percy jackson #xyou #x you #gender neutral #confession #cabinofimagines #admin asnyox

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so-mordor-itis · 11 months

Text

Black and Blue, Still Singing For You

Inspired by @scariusaquarius 's series Unlikely Salvation (Go check them out pls-) I hope you guys enjoy! I actually felt pain writing this...mmmm pining

“To be careful with people and with words was a rare and beautiful thing.” -Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, Benjamin Alire Saenz (@leonskillshot ;) )

The cold air of the lab brushed over your neck. You held back the urge to shiver as you passed through the mechanical doors, clipboard in one hand, coffee cup in another. This would be another long day, but at least you wouldn’t be bothered by anyone else–the lab was yours and only yours. You wouldn’t have to deal with judgmental looks or scowls from your peers as you jotted down notes on your latest subject.

“Having a rough day already?”

Said subject’s voice echoed from his glass chamber. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, a tired expression on his face as he attempted to greet you. His cheeks and rims around his own eyes were crowded with black streaks from the Plaga parasite in his chest. The whites of his eyes a milky yellow color, his pupils–which were once a radiant, icy blue–now a dull grey. Leon was sitting on the ground of his (you honestly would have called it a prison cell at this point) chamber, his legs criss-crossed as he patiently awaited whatever you needed him for. Your heart ached with pity every time you saw him now, but you couldn’t allow it to show. Leon didn’t want to see it.

You sighed, scanning over the papers you were given just an hour prior. “You know how it is. The higher-ups just love working me to the bone.”

“Oh yes,” Leon huffed a laugh. “They make you think you’re free, but suddenly you find a 500-page document on your desk the next day.”

“Mhm, story of my life,” you replied. Squinting at a string of sentences. Experiments were placed on hold for a week after realizing just how tender the parasite was. A single cut through it would sever Leon’s nervous system and kill him instantly. You didn’t want that, and the people in the chairs higher up certainly didn’t want their weapon to perish under odd circumstances. It was a risky situation all around. One you desperately wished was in someone else’s hands. Leon Kennedy was an asset, not just to the DSO, but to the President. Anything going wrong, from him dying due to the Plaga, or to him going absolutely feral and escaping, would lead to your job being thrown out the window. Or worse, you could die in his hands, and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop him.

A year ago, he was sent to Spain to retrieve President Graham’s daughter, who had been kidnapped. She was taken by a cult, one that worshiped a parasite they had discovered underground. A lot of the details were classified, and for some odd reason, you were given only a handful. Ashley Graham had been injected with the same parasite, but thankfully, he was able to get it removed before it evolved into the next stage. Leon, having been dealt the same card, wasn’t so lucky. He wanted hers removed first, placing her safety above his. Just as the parasite was about to be removed from his own chest, it evolved. Apparently, according to the Las Plagas files, Leon maintained his humanity somehow. Perhaps his will was too strong. Or he was just too stubborn.

Either way, your nerves were calmer, knowing he was somewhat in control of himself.

“What’s on the schedule today?” He asked you. He was trying to sound bored, but a part of his sentence felt wary. You didn’t blame him. You wouldn’t exactly be ecstatic to be poked and prodded with knives and injections. “I’m guessing more parasite testing.”

“Actually, you just got a new treatment,” you told him, now facing his direction. “Gonna try a new type of medicine.”

Leon blinked in surprise. “Will it work?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” You tried to give him a hopeful smile, but knowing how resistant the parasite was to other treatments, you didn’t want to give him any false aspiration. “That’s not until later, so you get to keep your superpowers for now.”

“Yes, because that’s so exciting,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “Get to be friends with the little fucker in my chest some more.”

You snorted. “Other than that, I’m just here to take notes,” you groaned a little at the idea. “Again.”

“You get to keep me company for a little while longer, huh?”

“Yep, lucky for you.”

You turned around in your chair to get started before hearing his voice again. “I’m glad it’s you, today.”

You bit back a smile. “Like my company?”

“More than you think.”

I.5

The treatment proved to be fatal. Leon had coughed up blood as it was injected into his veins. The parasite wiggled in his chest, moving his ribcage back and forth as it fought against him. You stopped the medication right away, sighing with defeat.

“Sorry, Agent Kennedy, I guess you’ll have to hang in there longer.”

“Not your fault,” he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. You wished you were allowed to give him a tissue. “And you’ve known me long enough that you don’t need to be so formal. Just call me Leon.”

II.

You had met Leon a few times before all of this happened. Moreso just passing by him in the main office while delivering notes and progress reports. Despite his rugged exterior, he was charming. He had asked you if you’d like to join him for dinner once, but you had to decline due to a project you were assigned to then. Part of you worried he would be upset, but he was immediately understanding.

Fate was truly an evil mistress.

It was an awful feeling, not being able to actually interact with him. You felt as if you were watching a hamster in a cage. He slept, ate, breathed, did everything in that glass chamber, and all you could do was observe. It made you feel as if you were a part of the problem, part of the reason he was trapped in there, part of the reason he wouldn’t be able to smell fresh air again. Wouldn’t be able to feel another’s touch.

“Got something on your mind?” His voice interrupted your thoughts. He was standing now, leaning against the back wall, perhaps occupied with thoughts of his own.

You shook your head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Well, considering you’re the person who has to be here, watching me, noting down my behavior, I can’t help but worry it is about me.”

“Actually, it’s not.” You paused, thinking if what you were about to say next was wise. “For once.”

“Am I on your mind a lot or is it the Plaga moving around?” He’s teasing you now, and you honestly appreciated the distraction.

“You know, I was gonna compliment you but now I’m just gonna ignore you.”

“Ow. Harsh.”

“You started it.”

You turned your back to him and you can’t help but wonder if he’s pouting. You wanted to know what he was thinking, if he also appreciated a distraction from what future experiments he would be subjected to.

“You don’t have to eat lunch here, you know.”

“Well, technically, I do.”

“No, I mean in front of me.” Leon scowled a little as he casted his glance at your food. “It’s rude, honestly.” He wasn’t actually upset, jealous maybe, but not angry.

“You can’t eat normal food anymore anyway.” You brushed him off.

Leon sighed. “I know, but still. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.”

You felt a little terrible. “I’m sorry. I guess I felt like I…actually nevermind.” You stopped the words from flowing, but you didn’t stop his curious gaze.

“What? You can’t say that and just expect me to ignore it.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Just say it. Can’t be more stupid than half the shit I’ve said to you the past few months.”

“Half of that was you high on pain meds.”

“It still applies.”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. “I felt like I owed you a date.”

“Owed me a date?” He echoed.

“You asked me to dinner at least a few times, and I couldn’t say yes to any of them.”

Leon blinked, realization slowly clouding his expression. “Oh. Well, if you think this is equivalent to a date…I’m a bit worried about how low your bar goes.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to remove yourself from the spot on the floor. Your legs had started to cramp anyway.

“Hey, wait,” he said. You tilted your head in confusion.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.”

You gaped at him, heart fluttering in your chest. You glanced at the office clock, your lunch break ended in five minutes. This was so stupid, getting close to your subject simply because he was a man you once knew, once thought you had a small crush on.

Though you supposed sometimes the most unwise idea was the best one.

You sat back down and somehow he no longer looked miserable.

III.

You had been transferred to another lab, away from him. You knew this would inevitably happen, not even for personal reasons, but simply because they needed you in a different department. Yet, part of you couldn’t help but believe it was because you started treating Leon more as a human than as what your co-workers saw him as: a test subject that needed to be tested. Needed to be worked on, carved into their image.

Four months went by before you finally saw him again.

You were informed by your superior that they finally found a treatment that made the parasite lose its grip on his system, but they still wanted to keep him in that chamber. To watch. To observe. To keep him as their little guinea pig. All you had to do was keep watch for the final time. You had the best notes, after all. Had known him the best before this all blew up and caused such a ruckus.

Leon looked almost the same as the last time you saw him. The black lines on his face and hands had slowly faded, but the ones on his chest and biceps still lingered. The medication was working, but slowly. Once he saw your face, his eyes lit up, his heart monitor beeped a little faster and you couldn’t help but find that endearing.

“Been wondering where you’ve been,” he commented. You could tell he didn’t want to say he missed you, but you knew him well enough to know the undertones of his words. Leon wasn’t the best at communicating, but his actions always spoke louder. “They transfer you out of state?”

“Something like that,” you approached the glass, not wanting to admit he was more handsome now. His face was less sickly and his eyes were no longer sunken into his skull. His cheekbones were more defined. He was getting better. “I hope they didn’t treat you too poorly while I was gone.”

Leon shrugged. “I mean it was the same, besides hearing your voice every other day.” His eyes met yours now and you felt your heart flutter again. “I kinda missed your stupid jokes.”

“Oh, my jokes are stupid?”

“Very.”

“Have you heard the words that come out of your mouth?”

Leon laughed a little and suddenly the room felt brighter.

“Well, lucky for you, you get to hear me all day.” You said, poking the glass as if you were trying to poke him.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze not wavering away from yours. “Lucky me. You still owe me another date.”

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. He only smiled again and you peel yourself away from the glass to sit in that all familiar office chair, and the all too familiar feeling of Leon’s gaze was once again glued to your back.

You wondered how long it would be until you could actually tell him you hated the way he made you feel. If you ever could.

If there would ever be a timeline where you two could actually go on a date, and he could kiss you the way you wanted him to.

Tags:

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @airanke , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic , @mandalhoerian , @tosuckmyweenis , @boundinparchment

#resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #plaga leon #plaga leon x reader #non feral plaga leon #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #emmy yells

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capslocked · 2 years

Text

DEPARTURE

male reader x hwang yeji

13k words

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

April, and you were barely seventeen. It was spring, but the weather hadn’t gotten wind of that just yet. So—cool, rainy, just like every April before it.

Yeji’s voice stuck a perfect landing in your ears. "You know what’s crazy?"

"No?" you responded cautiously.

"Apparently this stuff starts out as a wheat, or a rye. You believe that?"

You paused. "What the hell is rye?"

"It’s… well, it’s like a wheat."

The wood crackled again, embers sent flying into the chill night air. Now that the fire had already begun burning out in front of you, you pulled your jacket tight around your shoulders.

"Okay. Ready? On three."

"Wait a second." You raised a finger in the air. "One, two, three?—or, one, two, three go?"

"Who on earth does one, two, three, go?"

"I dunno."

Yeji twisted an eyebrow without saying anything and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. The coals and dying gasps of the bonfire between you illuminated the sharp, perfected features of her face, casting a set of even sharper shadows.

"I mean some people do," you added.

"Do I look like some people?"

That mischievous smirk again pulled at the corner of her lip. It was dark and hard to see, but you could feel it.

"You look like you’re trying to get me sick," you said.

"Don’t be such a baby about it. Just do it with me."

"On go?"

"On three." She curled her lip, dissatisfied with you yet again. "One. Two. Three."

Eyes closed, you tilted the cup back against your lips. A dark, dreadful liquor pooled in your cheeks. And against your better judgment, it finally seared its way down your throat. For a moment, it sat woefully in your stomach, like a question mark. Your eyes watered, your chest heaved, coughing and choking.

It took a beat, but eventually you would make peace with it, the beverage equivalent of a kick to the head. You were just thankful it had not elected to leave the same way it came.

"Ugh," you sputtered, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. "I swear it’s like someone wondered what would happen if you tried to drink dirt." Your eyes drew over the bonfire—or at least what was left of it—to find a face beaming with the smuggest grin you’d ever seen, the drink in her hands entirely untouched.

"Gotcha," she lilted.

"Oh of course, you ass."

Yeji’s hand covered a laugh, the corners of her mouth sneaking out from behind it. The sound of it alone made nearly puking worth it. She stood. And in one uninterested motion, tossed the contents of her cup—a kind of alcohol you’d only learn later in life could probably be used to start a car—right out into the grass. Twisting the insides of her jacket pockets, she sauntered around the pit, briefly lit in the spits and licks of the dying fire.

"Think there’s any room on that tree stump for one more?"

Her eyes, sharp and magnetic, always pulled you deeply into her. She held you in them for a moment, a long couple of moments, and the flickers of the fire painted bright streaks of gold in those whirlpools of deep, earthen brown. When she smiled, the corners of her eyes creased, snapping at your attention.

"You deaf?"

"Dunno. Depends," you said, still clutching your chest and clearing your throat. "Who’s asking?"

Hwang Yeji. Your first kiss. Your first a lot of things actually. However for the sake of this story, your first kiss. It was somewhat crude how she’d stolen it off you too. Though still that was your fault mostly. It’s only fair that you got what was coming to you for the way you had dragged your feet.

A playful slap landed on your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You think about it less and less now, and as a result, the actual details of it have begun to elude you. Obviously you remember kissing her—or rather her kissing you—but that’s just about all you remember. There’s the way it started; her fingers under your chin, dragging your eyes away from the pile of embers that glowed in the fire pit. And of course how it ended; a wide smile dimpling her cheeks as her lips pulled away from yours. But everything in between? Years after the fact? God, your guess is as good as anyone’s.

Still, in spite of their incompleteness, Yeji shows up in a lot of your memories, the good ones anyway. You tease them through your head time and time again just to make sure they’re still there, intact.

She’d been around for a lot of the growing up you had to do in school, persistently dissatisfied you wouldn’t do it any faster. Never before had you gotten that close to anyone, let alone someone as vibrantly charismatic and beautiful as her. Allowing yourself to think back on it, there was a lot of downtime, time where nothing in particular was happening at all—the walks home after classes and clubs, Saturday afternoons just spent hanging out on your parent’s couch, not to mention all those late night runs on the local Pelicana for more chicken wings than anyone should ever eat—it all seemed like such a big deal at the time (though arguably, Pelicana is still a big deal).

To be clear, no, the two of you never dated. It was far too difficult to describe it like that. When one of you would turn eyes to the other for comfort, for compassion, for a sincerity absent in those everyday flirtations, you’d always find her—or she’d find you—with eyes pointed away, thoughts elsewhere. Though that didn’t mean you wouldn’t get teased about it, relentlessly you might add. Your friends would see the Friday evenings and Sunday mornings you’d spend together on what must’ve looked like nothing other than what they were: dates.

But the truth was more complicated than you ever cared to explain. So—you let them think what they wanted. You’d always return back to them and field twenty questions about what the two of you got up to, if she was good at kissing, what position she liked, how she was down there, whatever the color was of the underwear she wore that day. You’d make up your own answers, the ones they wanted to hear. It always did shut them up.

So, officially, you were friends. And you were the first person she came to when she got the news.

"In Seoul, huh?" You shoved your hands in your pockets.

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"No one knows." She twisted at the collar of her shirt, pulling and turning it into a tight knot. "For some people it’s a year and then they know it's not really gonna work out. For others it’s a whole lot longer."

"Well, it’ll get pretty quiet around here then won’t it."

Yeji smiled. "You’ll survive. I know you will."

A brief silence hung between you, different from any of the other lulls in conversation or times just spent quietly in your thoughts. Dry leaves crunched and mashed as you walked, and you could hear the wind shake old tree branches of whatever was still left on them.

"I bet you’d be good at it."

"What’s with that?" A muted laugh and Yeji’s eyes were again pointed up to the sky, as if she were counting stars. Always she was looking at the sky like that. You knew it. Maybe she knew it too. She didn’t belong here.

You let out a short sigh and shrugged your shoulders. "Just a hunch."

Five years had passed now, and you still remember vividly the conversation that had become your last. A fresh blanket of snow over the street hadn’t yet been disturbed by the morning traffic. Yeji’s hands were balled into two tiny fists, hidden in the long sleeves of the overcoat of her school uniform, a hand-me-down from her older sister ostensibly. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, a pair of white earmuffs sitting atop it, and for the first time you’d ever known, she searched and searched for that bright smile—only she came up empty.

She told you she was leaving. She told you she wasn’t coming back. And then without skipping a beat, tears welling in her eyes, she told you not to wait for her.

See, our memories are a rather peculiar thing. In the backyard of that party neither of you belonged at, when the two of you were kissing beside those dying embers, you thought it’d be the memory you always play back in your head, clutching it tightly to your breast like your life depended on it. But truth be told, you can’t even tell at this point what’s fact and what you’ve since fabricated to fill the gaps.

As fate would have it, it’s that scene—in the middle of your driveway at four-fifteen in the morning—you remember it perfectly. While it played out, you made no special notice of it. You’d never stopped to think what a lasting impression it would make on you, how five years after the fact you’d manage to recall it in excruciating detail.

You had paid no attention to all that scenery around you either, the stars disappearing to make way for the sun, the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet, the gentle hum of the electric generator heating your home, or the white puffs of air that leaked off your chest. No, you were paying attention to yourself, the things you felt. You were paying attention to that unfairly beautiful girl standing arm’s length in front of you. Your thoughts wandered about the two of you together, and then again, retired solemnly back to yourself.

To make matters worse, you were in love. A troublesome, frustrating, complicated love.

With very little to say, you said very little. She said she’d call. She didn’t. You understood. Time passed. And then some. Later, you’d hammer out a drunken text message on New Year’s Eve the next year. A final albeit clumsy effort to hold your world together. Sent, but never opened.

And that was it. There was little else to do about it. You figured it was time to move on. Not that you had even an inkling of an idea how. Playing it back again in your head only ever filled your teary eyes with an almost unbearable sorrow. Realizing you’d never know if Yeji loved you.

It’s October and you’ll soon be twenty-four. The seat belt sign above you lights up. The cabin shakes and struggles. And your ears ring as the aircraft begins its descent onto a runway at Heathrow Airport. You typically enjoyed the window seat to get a good picture of where it was you were arriving—even if it wasn’t new—the layouts of highways, parks, train stations, large construction projects, all the things that made a city unique. But by the time the aircraft breaks through dark cloud cover, the only thing you can see beyond the ground crew in rain jackets and the chain linked fences around the tarmac, beyond the cold autumn rain beating down upon it, is that unyielding, gloomy sky. Again—London.

Buckles unlatch and passengers stand, gathering their belongings from the overhead bins. You remain stuck in your seat, chin resting on your hand, gazing at the backpack of the woman across the aisle—the contents that peek out of it blindsiding you: a copy of Vogue magazine with five unbelievably gorgeous faces on it, Yeji’s most noticeably staring back at you.

You’d groan out loud if you weren’t surrounded by people. It was becoming untenable.

Most of the reason you’d taken your job abroad was to keep from seeing her at every turn. There were the advertisements, the billboards, the promotional material you’d find on buses, subways, anywhere with decent foot traffic really, and that’s just what you could see. Her voice was always in your ear, and her name on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

And now it seems that even all the way out here, on a short flight from Zurich to London, that plan to escape her is already now showing delicate cracks in its optimistic veneer.

Perhaps it was the way your lips twist, or how your eyebrows furrow—you’ll never know—but a stewardess feels it within reason to check up on you, to see how you’re doing. She asks first in German, and then in French, and then finally in English that you can understand.

"I’m okay—just a little lightheaded."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m fine, thanks," you say, pulling your gatherings together from beneath your seat.

You’re not crazy, no more than anyone else. So it logically follows that you don’t believe in ghosts. At least certainly not in the colloquial sense. And the queue for immigration and customs at London Heathrow Airport has to be about the last place on earth anyone would choose to loiter about for eternity. But those ones you create for yourself? The ones that haunt you?

"I told you! I packed them in a little gray bag! The one you threw across the room at me!"

Those are real.

"Why the hell would you pack them away—when it’s the first thing you’re going to need to get off the plane?"

"Maybe I packed them away safely because we’d need them first thing."

Yeji waves her hand flippantly at the girl beside whose hair was dyed a garish blonde. She rolls her eyes with enough disdain that it drags her face over her shoulder. You watch her do a double, a triple take and your eyes lock with hers. Be it accident, be it fate, it doesn’t matter—it makes it hard to breathe. You shake your head, blink your eyes, but the two of you are stuck in each other’s gaze like it were a finger trap, unable to look away.

Nevertheless there’s some part of you still that refuses to believe in what is now a few feet in front of you. The same scene, playing out back home—assuredly there would be no end to the camera flashes and people chasing and begging for autographs. If anything, the only interest it gathers here, halfway around the world, is impatience from the scowls of grumpy travelers who’d rather be anywhere else.

"Yeji?" The girl beside her, whom you now absolutely recognize—god, you wish it was a mystery to you, what all Yeji had been up to since she walked right out of your life—she asks again, frustrated, "are you even listening to me?"

"Hang on. Give me a second."

She walks with purpose, an insatiable curiosity gnawing at her thoughts. Those heeled boots that tucked in the bottom of her jeans tap loudly against the concrete beneath your feet. And her hair bounces in place against the shoulder of a beige knit sweater on each step. The baggy garment’s sleeves are long, just as she always liked them, hiding her hands in their cuffs as she marches toward you.

Each step leads into the next with such grace and poise it leaves you frozen. Yeji had always been easy on the eyes. And of course you’d seen her everywhere, seen the beautiful woman she’d grown into, taking mental note of it more times than you could count. But even your most particular memories—no matter how bold you chose to remember her—they never could’ve imagined this confidence, the way she carried herself with such raw assurance and certainty.

She sweeps the hair out of her face, looking up at you, confirming exactly what it was she thought she saw. Glistening, her eyes widen, and she holds you in them for the first time in years. You can feel your chest tighten and your stomach twist—she’s so unbelievably pretty it hurts. It’s something like the way you experience a master painting, a Rembrandt or a Hals, by not only letting it steal your breath from far away, but also up close, where you might appreciate the brush strokes.

Shaking her head, laughing quietly to herself in disbelief, she leaps headlong into the silence. "What are you doing here?"

See, this had been a scenario you’d puzzled over a million times in your head already. She’d find you, or perhaps you’d find her, and the two of you would smile, before saying something cute, something that would instantly return you to where you left things five years ago. But even in the pages of your most speculative efforts, it would never quite look like this. You struggle to remember any of those quippy one-offs you thought you’d say. In fact, the breath you draw in, swirling knots of air in your chest, it simply finds no words to speak at all. Upon realizing its uselessness, it falls off your tongue, silent.

After all, you hadn’t talked to her in years. What reason do you have that makes you think you’d start now?

"Yeji, I—" Even her name is a cursed utterance at this point, the way it makes you strain and choke. It takes you a moment, but a dry laugh leads your response upon realizing the absurdity of the question. "Yeji, I live here."

"You live here?" Her eyes open further in shock. "What? Why?"

"Work." It wasn’t a lie, but the simplest answer conveniently hid the fact you’d picked up your entire life and settled thousands of kilometers to get away from her.

She furrows her brow and tilts her head inquisitively. "You’re pulling my leg."

"Well, I’m certainly not on vacation."

She crosses her arms, thinking for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came to her head as she was so often wont to do. Raking her fingers through her hair, gathering stares of everyone around you, she finally responds, "I’m just—I’m having a hard time—I really had no idea."

Accusative, "I mean… Yeji. Does that surprise you?"

Her lips narrow and tuck against her teeth. She twists the collar of her sweater between two perfectly manicured fingernails, painted dark with meticulous white detailing. Further and further, she knots it beneath the pale skin of her neck. It’s the same anxious tic she’d always indulge.

Her voice, tender and choked up, reaches out to you "I’m sorry."

You hadn’t much to respond to it. Your thoughts were tied and shackled to the fact that you were now suddenly eighteen again, staring down the barrel of the girl who broke your heart. Again, tongue-twisted, you search the look on Yeji’s face—eyebrows knit together, and the corner of her lip pulled back into an unsure smile. It defies logic—and reasonably so—it’s beyond the grave, the relationship you thought you’d buried years ago.

"And so when we got off the plane, we were still missing the better half of our passports." Yeji pulls her shoulders up into a hopeless shrug, her hands still in her pockets. "I guess they’re just going to sit and wait in customs until someone can do something about it."

"Bleak."

"Tell me about it."

"You’re just gonna leave them there?"

Yeji laughs to herself. "Trust me, I need a break from those girls. And now you’re here? Talk about a silver lining."

The two of you had made a loop around the terminal concourse god knows how many times now. You could feel the strain of walking the circuit start to make your knees ache and your muscles sting, but you weren’t about to complain.

Things felt different, but also not so far off from the way they always were. Both of you were older, more mature, found more interesting things to talk about. Your words carried a certain edge to them, a cleverness that might not have been so present back then, but still—Yeji talked, and you listened. That’s how it always was. And Yeji could talk for hours.

She stops short, finding a railing to lean herself against. And she asks, "What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Well believe it or not, I passed the national service exam—" You pause with your mouth agape, remembering just how badly you wished you could’ve told her while holding a shredded letter in one hand and the results in the other. "And now I’m here."

"Like in an embassy or something?"

"Yep."

Her eyes light up. "Really?"

"It’s half as cool as it sounds," you say, running your fingers through your hair, "I stamp visas for a living."

"Ugh." Yeji punches playfully at your shoulder. "I could��ve used you about two hours ago."

That’s not how any of it worked of course, but you weren’t about to correct her.

She quickly shoves in front of you a more interesting question, "so you’ve gotta live pretty close to here I imagine."

"I dunno. How close is forty minutes?"

"Close enough." Nearly jumping, she stands herself up onto her feet. "C’mon. I’m not going to forgive you if you don’t show me your place."

You study her face for a clue, a hint, a tell—surely she was joking. Though you realize it soon enough: those arching brows above her eyes remain resolute, cheeks refuse to dimple, and her long, dark eyelashes don’t even dare to flutter. Nothing moves an inch.

You swallow hard. "You don’t have anywhere to be?"

"Manager told me to go straight to the room and read a book or something."

"Then shouldn’t you go to your room and read a book or—"

"Uhh-uh. No way." A smirk and her eyes sharpen. "I’ve got the rest of my life to follow the rules."

So, now—there you are, your jacket drawn over both your heads, a poor excuse of an umbrella. Holding open the door to the backseat of a cab for the most spectacularly gorgeous woman you’d ever known, the girl who shattered your heart into a million pieces and then some. In your pocket, a text message on your phone, curious about your flight home—the girl you’d been casually seeing for the past couple weeks—waits for a response.

Though truthfully, you haven’t a clue what you’re doing.

The ride to your apartment is mostly quiet, listening close to the sounds of rain against the windows and the occasional turn signal from the driver’s seat. And for the first time you’ve ever recognized, the silence between you makes you feel uneasy. You had a thousand questions burning a hole in the pocket of your heart and you didn’t even know where to begin. Those questions, they weren’t interested in her schedules, the places she’d been, the things she’d seen, her life in the limelight, how she’d eventually introduce herself to all the heroes and idols you’d known as a kid. In fact, it’s the same way a map that has too much information is effectively useless at helping you navigate. You needed to ask her where you were. Where you stood. Where you were going.

It’s been ages since you’d both had a girl in your apartment and the two of you weren’t immediately en route to your bedroom. You struggle to call back to how your parents might host a guest in your home.

"Yeji," you yell from in front of your refrigerator, "can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"It’s a little late for caffeine don’t you think?" The cushions of your couch groan as Yeji collapses into them. "A beer would hit the spot if you have one though. Especially after today."

You scan the contents of a mostly empty fridge and find it, raising your eyebrows at the six pack on the shelf in front of you, one beer already missing from its cardboard holder. It was mostly the thing you were hoping to avoid.

"It’s nice," she says, grabbing the beer out of your hand and taking in the view of your apartment. "Cleaner than I expected too."

"That’s not really a compliment now is it?"

Her shoulders shrug as she pops the tab of the drink and lifts it to her lips. A refreshed ‘ah’ precedes her. "It does feel a little like I’m sitting in an IKEA showroom though."

"Yeah. Well, guilty as charged I guess."

She laughs, head on a swivel, taking note of—silently judging—your furnishings. "I mean you are probably the only person I know—" She stands, wandering through your apartment to the wall between your living room and your kitchen. "With a calendar that has no pictures, words, or anything." She rifles its pages with her thumb. "It’s just a damn calendar. You don’t even mark it or anything."

"It’s functional."

"It’s weird."

Rain continues to pelt down on your windows, permeating the brief silences between your conversations, but soon you can barely notice it. It becomes so natural the way you wrap yourself up in her stories, and hers in yours. And if the hour hand moving quickly about the face on your clock above the mantle was at all an indicator, neither of you had any deficiency of things to share.

Though still, there remained something noticeably off. You’d spent a lifetime listening to Yeji, and it was always so effortless the way she commanded your attention. But the nature of her speaking, it was although she were a machine struggling with a loose bolt or a stripped screw. See, it was the space between the stories that had your curiosity piqued. She’d start to tell you about subject A and move quickly into subject B and then before you knew it you were in subject C with no real rhyme or reason. You recognized the incongruity immediately, but it took a few beers and hours of listening to pinpoint the cause.

She’d start. Her voice soothing and relaxing. You’d both reminisce. And the moment the story began to find itself concerned with you, with the two of you, she’d swerve around it. Like a car trying to avoid a squirrel that foolishly darts across the highway.

It’s what makes it all the more surprising when she asks a simple question, "So—are you seeing anyone right now?"

You have to clear your throat before you can answer. "Kinda. On and off. You?"

"Yeah; kinda. On and off." She sinks her gaze into her lap. "She nice?"

"She’s fine."

"Good." Her eyes, glistening up at you from under her lashes, find you again. "You deserve a nice girl."

It had been one of those questions aching to leap off your heart and onto your tongue. And now that it had been asked—and so succinctly answered—you felt robbed of everything it was supposed to give you. A deafening silence fills the room. The clock ticks mercilessly and you listen again to the rain coming down on your windows.

You can feel it. You’d be shocked if she couldn’t feel it. That unceasing tension. Yeji stands, pulling the hem of her sweater around her thighs, selfishly hiding the curves of her hips along with it. "It’s late. I should probably get going."

And then with hardly any flash or fanfare, she hugs you. Her arms refuse to linger and the purposeful gap between your chests remains obstinate and unmovable. You show her the door and she takes a long step through it. She smiles, her eyes creasing, but her mouth barely moves.

"Till next time," you say, wondering when that might ever be.

"Till next time—good night."

You wave. She waves back. And the door closes—the evening along with it.

That was it. Again. Sifting like sand through your fingers. So consistently she could just walk away from you and be done with it. Every time you’d imagined this miracle meeting in your head, it would start like it did. But then ultimately the two of you would always tear each other’s clothes off in frustration. So that two broken souls might ever become whole again.

But you know it now. Yeji was never broken. For as long as you’d ever known her, she was like a rocket, launching onto a journey to the furthest stars in the night sky. Face pointed away. Thoughts elsewhere. She never really looked at you. And because of that you often wept.

So far as you can tell, Yeji never loved you. A wish beyond your reach.

Your head hangs against the wall beside the door and you gaze at your feet, maybe hoping to find some comfort hidden away in the striped pattern on your socks. You consider for a moment simply just standing outside on the balcony, letting the rain soak you completely in your clothes.

A knock at your door holds you accountable for at least a moment longer.

You sigh. It’s unfair really. Cruel even. She stands in front of you again. Only this time her hair slightly damp, raindrop stains on the shoulders of her sweater. You feel the stitch on your heart—a delicate, haphazard patchwork of time—its last suture coming undone. And boy, does that hurt.

"Hey, sorry. I realized I have no idea how to call a taxi. Can you lend me a—"

It can’t be instantaneous. But you don’t quite know how it happens either. Something pushed you to drag her through that opening and your hands held Yeji’s face, backing her against the door, now shut. Her eyes become stuck on you and her lips part. If she says anything, it’s far too hard to hear beyond that dull drum of blood, beating loudly between your ears. A shared breath, slow and purposeful, fills your lungs and hers.

Boldly, without reservation, you leap. Thousands of kilometers apart, reduced to a distance known now only by breaths hot across your cheeks, you find her again.

It’s soft the way you kiss her, as though you hadn’t done it hundreds of times, more of a question than it could ever be an answer. Her lips are soft, cool and wet, unbelievably perfect. A breeze through your hair on a hot summer day. In fact, they’re everything you remember, even competing midst those memories you’d embellished. Your fingers run through the smooth locks of Yeji’s hair that bundle in your hands, cold to the touch. It quickly becomes a handle, a grip, tilting her head up toward you as you pull her tight into your chest.

Her lower lip quivers gently against yours, and in a single shuddering breath, gathers itself enough to kiss you back. Hands grabbing tight around your shoulders, she lets a soft cry sink into your mouth.

You could listen to her talk for hours. And you did. But you needed to hear her say it—the way her lips capture yours, the way she tells you she missed you. It’s not some grand romantic gesture. There is no sunset, or gentle call of the ocean waves, no extraordinary vista, no candlelit room to bathe you in its soft glow. There is only Yeji, and that alone makes it perfect.

Her voice falters against you; the sound it makes whenever she’d need to hold back a tear or two. "Thank god the dumb taxis are so confusing…"

You kiss her again. That's all you know. The only way to possibly make right of this strange world.

It’s wild. Pressed firmly against your face is hers—the one you couldn’t stop seeing; the one that demanded so selfishly the attention of cameras and eyes around the world; only it had managed to seize your heart so very long ago. The roundness in her cheeks spreads around you and her nose struggles against yours. You hold her lips tight, the ever persistent worry they might disappear from you again forever biting at your thoughts.

Even though it’s not within your means to fall for her any harder than you have, you do. You always do.

"Mnph…" A quiet smack arrives on your lips. Another one. She starts to find an old rhythm, the way she used to kiss you when she was angry, when she was overwhelmed, or whenever she was just plain wound up. You grab a fistful of a sweater and turn her away from the door, stepping slowly into the foyer of your apartment.

The only thing more desperate than the lips pressed against yours becomes Yeji’s fingers, clutching tightly against the fabric of your shirt. Hums and moans pour from her throat to meet yours. She sways and sinks, leaning against the closet door you’d left open in the middle of the hallway. Her mouth tightens and you recognize the shy smile that fills across it.

Her cheeks, rosy now, burn bright against you and her voice rasps. "Don’t you dare go anywhere."

You had nowhere to be. Hell, you were already home. It’s confusing when you think about it. So you choose not to as best you can. Instead, you tease gently at the backs of her thighs, the roughness of denim meeting your fingertips. It’s Pavlovian perhaps, the way she jumps into your arms at your touch—never forgetting those secret traditions shared between you.

Her arms around your neck and her thighs over your elbows, you grip as timidly as might ever be possible onto the two handfuls of Yeji’s ass filling out between your fingers. Though you realize quick that whatever worries you harbor still are unnecessary, that strange boundary between clearly crossed. A soft moan, and her tongue begins to invade your mouth, marking and claiming the space she determined might just as well belong to her.

There’s this instant familiarity your hands find on Yeji’s body. Her svelte frame beneath that baggy sweater is the same perfect shape you’d held onto god knows how many times. The way she kisses you, pulling and massaging at the swell of your lip, it’s as though you’d never missed a beat, as though it had been Yeji’s kisses alone you found comfort in for the last five years. Though now, the flavor of her lipstick is noticeably different. It’s far more muted than the cheap fruity stuff she used to buy, but you recognize that taste of need and want off her lips still all the same.

Your fingers squeeze at the soft, pliable flesh that stretches all along Yeji’s thighs and rear, still protected by that sturdy pair of jeans—an obstacle now to be overcome. Feet and legs swing behind you as you step your haphazard union down the hallway. With any luck, she won’t knock any of the pictures or posters off your walls.

A light bite at your lip sends a surge of fiery pain down your neck. At that, you push Yeji’s back to the wall, another door behind her rattling in its frame and a soft moan escaping her chest.

She whispers against your cheek, "This your bedroom?"

"No. Not quite. Laundry."

"Ah. Well, as nice as that sounds; I’ve already got a washer at home—isn’t there some place that’s better for—ya know—the two of us?"

Thoughts stuck on the idea of Yeji sitting atop yours, hers, any washing machine and getting herself off makes your pants tighten. You groan softly, repositioning her weight in your hands and pulling her away from the door. "Bed or sofa?’

"You tell me."

You consider it for just a moment, unable to remember the state you’d left your room in before your trip. Is your bed made? Are your clothes put away? No idea. So you don’t tell her. You show her. Holding her tight, you navigate a brief waddle into your living room and your hands release her from their grips, sending her into the cushions of the couch beneath you.

"Really? On the leather—"

"Don’t care," you stop the complaint before it has time to marinate in your head. You knew she was right.

Her voice rattles at a faux concern, "what would IKEA think?"

"They’d be wondering who the two good-looking people on their couch are. Or how they got a free promotion out of you—who knows."

She stifles a laugh and motions her hands to your shoulders. "Come here, you."

She fits underneath your weight—your arms around her shoulders, and her legs entwined amidst yours—with such incredible ease. You sink into a kiss against the pale, tender skin that you find beneath her jaw. It’s delicate, easy to bruise, and it begs for a roughness only your lips could ever hope to provide. The more-than-welcome touch coaxes a moan, breathy and sudden, from her chest—a sound you’d only heard in your thoughts for so long.

Her fingers tease at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up along your chest and off over your head. "I missed you."

"You have no idea."

"Well—maybe some idea," she says, a hand quietly brushing against the hardness she finds at the front of your pants.

You trail up along her neck, the ridge of her jaw, until again you find your way back to the swell of Yeji’s soft, plump, ever-so-kissable lips. Your knee between her thighs, pushing her legs around you, legs that wrap and hook onto the backs of yours, knocks on the rise of her jeans. She lets out a quiet whimper, the sound reverberating through your chest.

There’s this thing about the way Yeji kisses you. Her hands run along your scalp, burying themselves in your hair. And she steals kisses off your lips with such an immediate urgency, with a hunger of someone who’d been starved for so long. You’d have chalked it up to the lapse of time you spent apart, years spent finding, failing love in different places, but she has always been like this—needy.

"Ugh," she sighs, amusing her hands on the shape of your chest, your back, your neck. She’s careful not to let the pointed tips of her fingernails scratch deeply at your skin, lightly caressing her way down to where your pants sit on your waist. Though you admire the thought, you had no intention of letting this woman undress you first.

Defiant, you lift your lips off hers. And a suspicious expression fills in the sharp features of her face. You can feel the skepticism building in those eyes that look you over.

"What’s the matter?" she asks, quietly trying to pull your shoulders back down to where she wanted you.

"I, uh—" You give your throat a good, solid clearing. "I’m going to take your clothes off. Right now."

Yeji raises an eyebrow, scooting up and resting on an elbow. "Talk about forward."

"No real use pussyfooting around it now."

Yeji twists her lip between her teeth and then slowly, she draws a line with her finger from your belly button, along your stomach and up your sternum until it holds your chin, making you look down your nose at her. "Someone teach you how to finally be direct with your words while I was gone?"

Maybe. Maybe not. You’d spent a good deal of time now practically inoculated to the fear of rejection from other girls—considering you’d already seen the worst of it. "Something like that."

"Then tell me Mr. Straight-shooter. What do you want to take off first?"

"First?" you say, letting a smirk drag at your mouth. "Well—no shoes on the sofa. House rule."

One thud, and then another as Yeji kicks off her boots onto the floor behind her. She keeps the intensity in her eyes locked on you—smoldering. "What else?"

"The sweater has gotta go."

"Only if you promise to keep me warm—"

"Easy—deal."

Yeji squirms out from underneath you while the sound of rain continues beating the side of your apartment. Your hands offer what is probably unnecessary help, grabbing onto the hem of her sweatshirt, scrunching it up along the toned muscles of her stomach. And after a short struggle, off over the top of her head, you reveal her slender, gorgeous figure.

She refuses to lose you in her cat-like eyes still for even a second. Even while she airs the garment out between her hands, neatly folds it, and gently sets it down onto your coffee table.

It ought to be criminal to be as charming and beautiful as Yeji is. She’s got these delicate collarbones, shoulders that round off the tops of her arms and run the distance to the skin on her neck you yourself couldn’t get enough of—there’s a tiny freckle here and there, none of them as prominent as the one that proudly sits on the bridge of her nose—though there’s nothing she has that no one else doesn’t, it’s the way everything manages to come together, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, lightly fitting itself in place—it’s simply perfect.

"You’re staring."

You blink yourself out of that momentary trance before letting yourself laugh about it. Clearing your throat, you smile and return the jeer, "Yeji—absolutely I am."

Standing herself from the couch, she smiles at you with her eyes. Her fingers tease under the waistband of her jeans—the biggest challenge of what all was left—and she asks, "I’m guessing you want these too?"

"I mean look—you know how it is. House rules and all."

"Those pesky rules again, huh." She laughs quietly to herself. "Whoever it is that came up with them—I’d like to give them a piece of my mind."

You simply shrug. That nothing I can do about it message clear enough as she begins to unbutton the top of her pants.

The fact that she has to wiggle her hips to peel the tight denim from her waist and down her thighs is a show in of itself. Inch by inch, slowly, meticulously, she reveals her legs to you—long and unending, toned and sculpted now in that manner that only the physical regimen of someone like her might yield. A pair of high cut athletic underwear—gray and pilling at its edges—hardly matches the navy nylon bra cupping Yeji’s soft breasts against her chest. But it’s not like you were going to complain about it. After all, she’d been traveling. Not to mind the fact you’d have to be insane to find anything worth complaining over in the visage standing in front of you.

She saunters over to where you now sit on the sofa, each step every bit as deliberate as the last. You can’t help but bring your face against her stomach as Yeji arrives in front of you. With your lips you can feel the goosebumps that rise atop the smooth skin across her abs, your kisses running the edge of her bottom-most ribs.

Her fingers stroke through your hair, and she lets her voice reach down to your ears. "Hey, I’m cold."

Those soft, ephemeral hairs that stand on end along her stomach, her back and the skin along her thighs corroborated the statement. However between her legs, where the darkened gray fabric hugged tightly against her entrance, where you could make out the shape of her lips imprinted into it, she was anything but cold.

Kissing her stomach again with lips that drag against the taut, velvety skin they find all over it, you place your fingers against that warmth. It’s instant—the quick spasm her diaphragm makes, knocking on your forehead, and Yeji gasps for air.

You follow the long, endless curves of her leg until it arrives on a perfect handful of ass that spills through the gaps in your fingers—fingers that tuck and dive into the back of her underwear, the thin fabric easy to twist and manipulate. Delighted, you listen close to how Yeji pulls fast breaths through her chest as you start to tease her body.

Your voice nearly chokes as you tell her what both of you already so clearly understood.

"Do you have any idea how bad I want you?"

Yeji’s eyes lock with yours, her chin tucked against her chest. "Show me."

Now, it’s important to mention again that this girl had left you absolutely devastated. In the years since she’d left, you wouldn’t have described yourself as particularly loose or rakish, but you weren’t ever one to turn down an opportunity at finding a momentary comfort in the embrace of another either. And the first chances came fast. Home for winter break along with everyone else, suffocating in nostalgia—a handful of girls you’d gone to school with would only see Yeji’s sudden disappearance as something to celebrate, a long awaited opportunity. It was shocking how fast they pounced on you.

It always felt good—for a second. And it’d wear off fast as they spent more time than you ever cared for snuggling up to you as if the sex was anything to write home about. The worst was when all you wanted to do was turn over in the cheap hotel sheets and they’d start to ask you a million questions: How was university going? Are your grades good? Do you have a girlfriend? What’s your blood type? Do you have a career in mind? How much money do you think you’ll make? Do you think my boobs are too small? Should we get breakfast in the morning? When will I see you again?—it was endless.

You put up with it for the most part. It helped you forget if at least for a moment what a shitty hand of cards you’d been dealt. There was a predictable formula too—you’d meet up for drinks, and before the waiter could take orders for seconds, you and her were making out on the curb, waiting for a cab. The hotel room lights would flip on (or stay off, depending on how horny and desperate you were). And you’d begin that necessary formality of going down on her—so that she might let you use her as you pleased. Always mechanical, robotic, transactional.

But Yeji’s legs resting on your shoulders, your face inches away from the damp fabric covering her hole, you wanted nothing other than to take your time.

It’s not too unlike the way you’d pluck at keys on the piano. Some touches quiet and pleasing to the ear, some loud and heavy and boisterous—you tease your fingers around the ‘V’ of cloth between her thighs, some notes playing soft subtle whimpers and others a lilting moan.

"Mmmph…" Yeji raises her hips gently, the backs of her knees rubbing at your shoulders. Impatient—rightfully so—she lifts the edge of her underwear, pulling it aside and offering you her glistening entrance. She’s wet, sopping and needy, and she’s begging for you.

Your kisses continue along the inside of a thigh, lingering longer and longer against the creamy skin that leads you to her heat. That addictive smell of sweat, lust and excitement fills your nose alongside the long breath you draw through your chest.

The way your palm brushes against her swollen clit makes Yeji shudder and jolt her hips—your finger diving down between the cleft of her bare lips to where she was really just utterly soaked. You trade your mouth across the gap to the other thigh you’d neglected, but Yeji can only reward you with her frustration—"please."

Maybe it’s because she’s always had this intense look about her—like she could take on the world with one hand behind her back and win—and it’s not like you haven’t noticed the way her company plays it up either. The girl you knew who was always fierce, plucky—lionhearted—the face looking at you now, eyes down her nose over the top of two navy clad breasts, it’s so soft. Even those sharp eyes, so often beguiling, had become tender—filling fast with lust and want and need and desire—like she’s pleading for you to save her, to rescue her, in the ways only your mouth and fingers might ever know how.

"Please—I need it," she rasps.

"Yeji," you weave into the sounds of her whines. "Trust—I’m gonna take good care of you."

Your mouth hovers against her. And just above where your fingers play and tease at her folds, your lips part. It’s not on purpose, and it’d be a little cruel if it were, but a hot, wet breath spills lax from lungs, off your tongue and out of your mouth. It crashes and collides, rolling and tumbling about the aching skin around her hole. It’s not possible to touch someone less if you tried—and it brings Yeji to wit’s end.

She sucks a sudden, whistling bout of air past her teeth. Her fingers thread themselves through your hair and pull you into her. Your nose meets her hip, tickled by the soft patch of neatly trimmed hair she saves for you, and you watch her head roll back on her shoulders. A reveal of the raw, tender skin you’d all but bruised along her neck and her whole body sighs, her body saying, without speaking, finally.

Yeji hums in delight as you take care of her. There’s your tongue, brushing up and down the hoods and folds of delicious skin that struggle to contain the scorching heat that burns fast between them—your hands, one teasing the narrow depths at the tightness just beyond her entrance, the other holding her hip, firm, to keep it from evading you—your unapologetic lips, grasping and sucking around her clit—your tongue again tapping and caressing it.

"Fuck," she hisses.

A word that is so usually rough and abhorrent and grizzled, and it’s never sounded so elegant. You can only imagine how bottled a profanity like it must be—there’s such oppressive decorum to follow when you’re on television, soundbites repeating like a million broken records across the internet, a voice that speaks for all to hear. And that goes doubly so for someone like her.

You dive into her, hard, and she rewards you with the airy, sing-song moans that fill your apartment, meshing themselves against the unyielding pitter-patter of rain.

"Oh my god—you’ve got some real talent." A thick, strained laughter leaves her throat and Yeji collapses back into the cushions of the sofa, brown leather now dark and staining with her wetness, a problem for tomorrow. Perhaps unfixable; worst case scenario, you could always get a new couch.

Rain hits hard against your home. It mixes a delightful track to your onslaught and a finger brings Yeji to her knees.

"Please, please, please—keep doing that."

It doesn’t have to search far, the soft pad of your fingertip finding that familiar stretch of dangerously sensitive skin. You curl at the knuckle—and Yeji becomes an extension of your will—her hips quake, relaxing only when you do. Your finger flexes. You tap, rub and tease. Each time a reaction, more wild and unrestrained than the last.

"F-Fuck. Just right—there," she squeals.

Her thighs wrap tight against your ears, all those sounds of your apartment quickly mute and muffled. The fruits of your labor pool, run wet, beading into droplets at the bottom of your chin.

"Please do—not—stop," she begs, breathing fast and heavy. Her eyes find you again, lip twisted mercilessly between those perfect teeth. And at a quiver that shakes and pulls her muscles taut—she closes her eyes and she growls through gritted teeth, "you’re gonna make me fucking cum."

There were a lot of memories you struggle now to piece together. Like having dropped a stack of papers or a pile of laundry, each time you bend down to pick something up, you’ve lost another in its stead. It’s become its own awful tragedy in a sense. But if there’s anything imprinted so permanently into the deep inner workings of your thoughts—you remember when Yeji cums, she cums hard.

Entirely overwhelmed, Yeji pushes your tongue away from her overstimulated bud. Her fingers grip tight at your hair, and she locks and clenches her body around your fingers. That twisted, unrestrained expression, eyes clenching and lips curling into a beautiful ‘O,’ she finds the release she so desperately needs.

All kinds of sounds, full of watery, anguished breaths, and whimpered moans leak through the seal her thighs make around your ears. You recognize a few words, a lot of them curses and profane mewling—nonsense mostly—but just as readily, your name gets thrown haphazardly into that lustful mix. Perhaps for good measure.

It’s only once she’s let those waves of pleasure dissipate through her entire body, squeezing and gripping you in the vice her legs make around you, that she lets herself relax and releases you to speak.

"Well that was something," you tease, wiping your mouth and chin with the back of a wrist, "been a while?"

"Oh—come—on," she says, heavy breaths still laboring to catch up to her, "don’t be cute. It’s not my fault if you’ve been practicing."

You smirk, lifting yourself up and finally freeing your legs of those stiff pants that were struggling impossibly to keep your cock calm and demure. "So? What now?"

Yeji returns herself to a halfway decent posture, the sweat on her back sticking to the leather as she does so. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." Shuffling your pants free from your thighs you tap at your chin, playful. "How many guesses are you giving me?"

"Zero. Get those things off. I’m gonna ride the fuck out of you."

"Yeah?" A bout of laughter forces your smile. "I can’t help but wonder what people might think if they heard ITZY’s fearless leader talking like that."

Standing, she slides that pair of soaked underwear down off her legs, and in a quick practiced motion, hooks an ankle behind yours. A push and you’re sent tumbling into the couch.

"What? You don’t think they’d be cranking one out to it?"

"The girls or the boys?"

She smirks. "Both. Though I imagine it would be all together kinda frustrating, huh?" She puzzles, straddling your legs. "Never being able to actually fuck me."

It’s unclear to you if she always preferred being on top because she forced it out of you, or if it's because you let her—but that’s how it goes. Your cock is already at full attention, standing proud like it wanted Yeji to know it needed her. It twitches noticeably as she rubs her pussy against it.

"What’s the matter? Been a while?"

"Yeah, because it’s so easy to get off on a business trip."

"Mnh-nh. I don’t want to hear excuses." She teases the head of your cock between the soaking lips of her pussy, kissing your tip with her heat.

Her lips purse, her eyes shut and she blows a purposeful breath of cool air out of her chest, out the narrow hole her mouth makes—an enticing shape you’ll have trouble getting out of your head—as she begins to take you into her, adjusting to the shape of your cock.

You both groan, two wildly different noises, but the same heavenly feeling communicated. She holds the base of your shaft steady with her fingers as you’re pushed past the muscles clamping around you. It’s warm and it’s wet and it’s fucking unbelievably tight. It’s enough to make you feel dizzy, stars appearing in your eyelids.

"Phew." Yeji drags her knees toward, sitting back on your cock. "That always feels so fucking good. Don’t worry I’ll go slow."

"Yeah, sure—but it has been a while, right?"

Leaning forward, she smiles against your cheek. "If that’s what you want me to say, then yeah—sure, it’s been a long while."

"I’m ignoring that." You reach your hands up onto her waist, the soft curve of her hips making for two perfect handles. "I’m ignoring you."

She laughs, the melodic sound again filling your head. "That’s fine—but I’m not going to let you ignore this."

There’s this moment, her ass suspended high above your hips, the tip of your cock barely held in place by her pussy’s grip. You’ve felt it before on roller coasters mostly, at the peak of the tallest drop—the car hanging in suspense, the strangest knot twisting in your stomach. Of course, the moment doesn’t last long. No, not when Yeji slides herself down along your length in the quickest of motions, the base of your cock kissing those wet lips again.

A sound, not particularly describable or even repeatable punches through your throat, and your eyes widen.

And then she does it again.

Quick, your voices melt into one another, the pleasure that rips through your thoughts—from the entire length of your cock buried deeper into her cunt than either of you can pretend to not notice. It’s immaculate.

But it’s fucking dangerous.

You’d noticed them before—those legs that she’d worked on for years, built and perfected by hours in the gym. See, she lifts herself up on your length again, some crude combination of cum, spit and sweat leaving a sticky trail between your thighs. A soft moan announces the end of the motion and then without remorse or hesitation, she finds herself flush against your hips again. It’s tiring no doubt, but you find Yeji relentless.

She brushes her hair out of her face. And those eyes–smoldering with lust–study the indecent expressions you make as she impales herself repeatedly on your cock. Her hands find a home on the muscles above your breast. And the reasonably flat support gives her everything she needs to lift and roll her hips against you with little resistance.

It’s not the angle, the depth, the tightness, or the technique—and god, does she know exactly what she’s doing—it’s the damn speed. Even when you were both eighteen, cutting classes at the end of your schedules, a pair of horny teenagers aptly described as rabbits, she had never fucked you like this.

"Fucking christ, Yeji." You grit your teeth and squeeze hard on her hips, bracing for impact on each downward thrust. "So much for slow—you trying to kill me?"

"Well I was thinking about it. And I changed my mind." Bouncing away still, eagerly taking your length in and out of her tight hole, she sits herself up and reaches her hands behind her back, unclasping the navy bra across her chest. "It might be better if you just cum now, since you’re so pent up—you might actually be able to enjoy yourself on the next one."

The straps come down over her shoulders and the bra lands somewhere in your room. It sounded like the floor. You don’t really care though, not while Yeji is lifting your hands from her hips and placing them on those two beautifully soft mounds that hang shyly off chest.

Frustrated perhaps with the shyness in your touch, she palms her hands over yours, squeezing and massaging at her own breasts until you find the touch she craves all on your own.

You groan again, loudly enough to make a smug smile stretch across Yeji’s cheeks. "Then tell me—is it a bad time of the month? Where do you want me to cum?"

She leans forward, breath hot against your ear. "Anywhere you want."

At that, you reach a hand around her, palming the back of her neck and holding her tight against you. The suddenness of it makes her yelp and squirm, but you hold her firm, and she realizes exactly what it is you need as you slide yourself lower on the sofa, a new angle with an entirely unrealized potential waiting for you there.

"That’s it—" she gasps, struggling in the strength of your grip, "make this pussy yours—use me."

Her body flush against yours, you hear every little gasp, every sultry moan that leaks off her lips. It drives you faster, more wild and feckless on each thrust, burying yourself hard into the heat of her cunt. Your throbbing shaft inside of her—it feels as though she was made with your cock in mind, made for you, designed—a perfect fit, the way she wraps and grasps around you. Without hesitation, you settle your hips into a rhythm that you know beyond a shadow of doubt will send you hurdling into those irreversible triggers of your orgasm.

"Mph…"" Your thighs slap against hers, that sound of wet skin on wet skin filling your apartment and drowning out the rain. Your cock disappears so neatly between her legs, and your hips move immediately to bury it there again, desperate for her warmth, her tightness. Beads of sweat pool at your back, and every time you should shift your weight, you become stuck to the leather sofa beneath you.

Yeji’s words continue to pour into your ear, though they too seem to be growing disjointed and bewildered at the motion between your hips. Her shoulders collapse against you and her face buries into the cushion aside yours.

"Yeji—I cant," you sigh, and your chest shudders in anticipation. "I’m going to fucking—cum in this—"

"No!" her voice cries, muffled into the leather of the couch beside you, "It feels—so deep—I’m close!"

"Yeji," you groan, "please."

Don’t you fucking dare," she husks, a voice desperate for you, "don’t—You can’t cum, you can’t—fuck!" Writhing again, she lifts herself on her elbows, observing how your face twists and contorts beneath her as if her own wasn’t every bit as wrought and agitated. "Babe! Your cock feels too—fucking amazing!"

She grabs your cheeks with her hand, pulling your attention away from her breasts shaking wildly, jostled about by your thrusts. Those eyes—they hold you deeply, begging you to hold on.

"You’re asking for a fucking lot here, Yeji I swear—"

"No—fuck," she gasps. Eyebrows twist. Her eyes shut tight. And her lips mouth the words that might release you, I’m cumming again.

It’s always like this.

She leads, you follow.

And it’s far and away too much for you to handle—the gorgeous woman on top of you, straining an expression only meant for you to see—it’s just too much. Plundering the depths of her pussy for pleasure you didn’t even know could wrack you like it does, you follow her into that unthinkable bliss. Her mouth hangs open, her muscles lock again and she quivers and quakes around you.

Your hands slap down hard onto her ass cheeks, searching desperately for a brief reprieve of something other than the warm, tight cunt that’s been rocking your thoughts senseless. You press your fingers into her creamy skin, hard enough that it’s sure to leave a mark, and in a thundering moment of pure, unbridled lust, you let it all out. Honestly, your thoughts are all so crudely whiplashed by everything that you make little notice of how much hot cum your thrusts pump up into the deepest reaches of Yeji’s pussy. It’s already something spectacular as it arrives, erupting unabashedly from your throbbing cock, but then it just keeps going. It fills around you, an unthinkable lubricant against the way her walls clamp and squeeze around you. And then you feel it, dripping and leaking out of her hole and onto your thighs.

A gasp bellows from your chest and your voice, raw and hoarse, punctuates the heavy panting between your crumpled, tired bodies. "Fuck. Me. Yeji."

Prudence would’ve been closing the curtains, turning into your pillow and catching whatever was left of the night to rest before you’d wake for work tomorrow. So, a simple fade to black. But you’d spent years searching and seeking for what is now between your hands—if there was any mistake you’d made, it was that you hadn’t kissed her sooner.

You remember it now, the way your family would host guests: there of course was that initial cup of tea, or whatever could be cooked up quickly in the kettle, but a tour of the house had always followed close in its wake.

And so a tour you two ventured. The rest of living room (though you worry about how thin the walls are you share with your neighbor), the kitchen, the bathroom, the laundry room. Any place with a surface you could either bend her over or sit her on really—until finally you two might enter your bedroom and fuck like a pair of functioning adults.

You lean back, grasping the bed sheets between your fingers. A heavy sigh pulls at your shoulders while Yeji runs her tongue up along the side of your cock. She’s got this wicked touch, her fingers wrapping ever so perfectly around your shaft, knowing just what firmness will send you reeling.

"Shit," you hiss, watching Yeji’s tongue swirl the head of your cock before her lips swallow it whole.

She’s methodical. Her tongue slips and darts beneath the sensitive skin under your shaft as she takes you in her mouth further and further. And in excruciating increments she nuzzles her nose against your waist, eyes just beginning to water. She’ll hold it—hold you, cock filling the lovely sleeve that is her throat—and then release. Just like that.

"Yeah—I don’t care what you say." You run your hand along the side of her head, her makeshift ponytail of smooth, silky hair now a perfect grip for your fingers. "You didn’t learn how to do that from those women’s magazines."

She pulls herself off your shaft, cock popping out of her mouth. Hands stacked, one on top of the other, she abuses you with that slobbery layer of saliva in between her fingers. Her eyes poke out, smiling over the top of it all. "I’m new to this—I promise."

"Uh-huh."

"So." Belly against the mattress, she pulls her knees forward, swaying her ass behind her head where you could see it. It’s a whole spectacle with this girl. She taps and teases at the tip of your cock, amused at the precum that sticks to the pad of her thumb, before again finding you with her eyes.

"So," you repeat back.

"How do you want to cum?"

You lean your head back on your shoulders, eyes up at the ceiling—a break. "If you’re not careful, it’s going to be down your throat."

"Well that’d be a waste."

"Oh yeah? How you figure?"

"When you could do it inside my cunt?" She narrows her eyes and raises an eyebrow, hands gingerly pumping at your shaft. "Yeah. A waste."

Yeji’s tongue and fingers work and tease in perfect union along your length. And you blow a steady breath through your lungs to rally your thoughts. "Let me think."

"You’re good, take a breather. I’ve got a nice, beautiful cock here to keep me entertained." And like that, she simply swallows you again.

Her drool continues to spill unapologetic down your shaft, catching itself between Yeji’s fingers and spreading out everywhere along your sensitive skin. A hand twisting, pumping—she has you so effortlessly figured out.

You help her head along as you puzzle about the many possibilities in front of you. Holding her hair, guiding her slack jaw and perfect lips up and down your throbbing cock feels—and you’re a little ashamed to say it—feels like using a toy. A toy that’s hot and hums and vibrates as you fuck it. And that’s exactly what you want to do.

"Yeah, I think—I want this mouth Yeji."

Before she can protest, you guide her again down your shaft, the perfect seal of her lips parting around your tip and swallowing your length. She glides and slips up and down you, the tiniest sounds of her throat struggling to accommodate you reaching your ears.

With her hand pulling yours away, Yeji pushes herself off you, your cock again leaving her lips with a pop.

"Well aren’t you selfish." She pushes gently at your chest with her fingers, "Let me at least take care of you."

You’d been catching yourself staring at her lips all evening, the way they curve and pull themselves up into that irresistible bowing figure—you’d had them running through your thoughts long before today—and now they’re all over your cock. She kisses you, caresses you, exploring every inch of vulnerable skin she can find all along your shaft.

The brief moment exists each time she swallows you, just the second before her lips part and seal around you. A hot, wet breath, spiraling and barely in control, wraps itself around you as her mouth hovers just over the tip of your aching cock—a blanket of warmth surrounding it. She takes you, all of you—again.

If it’s not the tightness of her throat or the doubled effort of ten slender fingers all fighting over one another to try and to send you to the edge, it’s that wet, smooth tongue. With it, Yeji brings your hips forward, bucking into the air above your sheets. A simple lick and you groan. Flattening it and adding it to the friction you find at the back of her throat? You’ve become putty in her hands.

"Fuck… Yeji, that feels incredible."

She hums a self-satisfied note, buzzing it all down your shaft, before pulling herself off your cock and finding you with her eyes once more.

"Tell me what you want," she says, holding your skin taut with her fingers and pumping a tight, squelching fist at the top of your cock.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeji—"

"No—tell me."

It’s the heart beating in your throat, it’s the sloppy noise her fingers make as she tries to pull every last ounce of cum out of your cock, it’s the sound of the god damn fucking rain hitting your windows—you whisper beneath it all, "I want to fucking cum in your mouth Yeji."

She lifts an eyebrow, cruelly pulling her hands away from your cock. "And then?"

"And then you’re gonna swallow it."

It all happens so fast. She takes you again into her mouth, fucking you with her throat and tongue—your hands are in her hair, finding the exact contact and warmth you need—and you struggle to do anything beyond holding your breath and closing your eyes tight.

"Mnph."

Your voice spits, "Fuck—"

"Mnmnph."

While you cum inside Yeji’s mouth, into the wonderful shape of her throat, she coughs and sputters, struggling to hold you in her grip, fingers splayed wide against your hips. You can see a good amount of your orgasm almost immediately leak from her lips, spilling down her chin and staining the sheets of your bed—again, tomorrow’s problem.

You grab her Kleenex, water, and anything she might really now need (a good hug more than anything).

Nighttime routines, finding her a pair of pajamas—ones that fit loosely on your body already mind you—a trip to the bathroom, and you’re both brushing your teeth, staring at each other's naked reflection when it really hits you—and together, you just start laughing. Those contagious giggles and bouts of laughter that make you remember just how much you missed the girl who’d forever been your best friend, the girl you loved.

The two of you are quick to find the blankets on your bed, the comfort beneath them. Arms untangle from each other, a quick kiss and a reach for the night stand, Yeji allows a complete darkness into your room.

"Till next time," she whispers into your ear.

The rain had finally stopped, but that doesn’t mean the sun harbored any intention of coming out. It was always kind of stubborn like that.

Rolling out of bed, you’re exhausted, mentally and physically. But you’re not sixteen anymore; you couldn’t fake a cough and tell your mom you were running a fever, take an indulgent day off. So—work it was.

Slacks come on, a dress shirt stuffed hastily into them, and you look over your shoulder to see Yeji’s more or less unidentifiable shape bundled beneath the blankets she’d spent all night stealing from your side of the bed.

"Yeji," you call out.

A soft groan marks the extent of her response as you watch her hand stretch into the air before falling defeated back against your mattress.

"I don’t know where, but—I’m sure you have somewhere to be." You draw the curtains open wide to your room, particularly dissatisfied by just how little light it earns you.

You fish from your suitcase a tie and the top half of your suit before finding your way to the bathroom. When you’re brushing your teeth, you again watch Yeji’s reflection stumble across the mirror, rubbing at her eyes. It took her little time to cop one of your sweatshirts. And you begin to wonder how many of yours you’ve seen taken up like this—now only to be never seen again.

"Good morning," she says, blinking at you.

Even in her least put together state, hair tousled and eyes sleepy, she possesses a certain charm that you struggle to put into any words beyond the obvious ones—she’s cute.

"Man." She looks at your reflection in the mirror–the marks along your neck. "I really roughed you up good, huh."

Usually the tie around your neck was enough to cover up those lip-shaped bruises on your Adam’s apple. You pull at the knot, the silky fabric sliding through your fingers. It’s probably optimistic to think another attempt at tying it might yield better results, but you haven’t all that much choice.

"Nope." Yeji hides her grin with a closed fist, her other hand hanging off your shoulder. "You can still definitely see them."

"Well, shit." A heavy sigh leaves your chest as your hands find your hips. "How bad is it?"

You turn from the mirror, searching for any reassurance in those soft, dark eyes. But the muted laugh, that painfully smug smile, those mischievous hands sneaking around your waist—it’s bad.

"Yeji. I can’t—" You grab onto her hips, trying to stem the flow of laughter that pours from her chest. "Yeji."

Grinning, "gotcha."

You roll your eyes back to your reflection. "I can’t go to work like this."

Yeji takes a second to think through her response, which makes the solution that ends up coming off her tongue even less impressive. "Then don’t."

"Hah. I bet you think you’re clever."

"I do." She runs her fingers through her hair, head tilting and eyes looking up at you. You wish she was just a little less dangerous. "What all is a day off going to do to you? You stamp visas for a living. Remember?"

And so for about a week, the two of you would run through a variation of this same conversation every morning. If it were a test in temperance, you failed it every time. It was sex, it was sleeping, it was cheap take out, it was more sex, but it was also just a lot of time to sit and talk. Like you used to.

Yeji wipes the sweat off her brow and lifts herself off your hips, her nude body cuddling up alongside you, her head resting on your chest. That soft voice of hers again lands perfectly in your ears, "You know what’s crazy?"

"That whiskey is made from wheat or rye?"

"Well, no—" Her chin turns on your chest to look you in the eyes. "What?"

You chuckle. "It’s nothing."

She takes a beat to regather her thoughts. "I was going to say I felt awful for years about it." A soft sigh moves her whole body, the cool breath landing on your chin. "But I never doubted for a second—I knew I’d find you."

You puzzle it through your thoughts. "How’d you figure?"

"Well—because I love you."

Easy, effortless, straightforward—the words spill from her mouth. You wonder for a second if perhaps you were mid-sip a cup of nostalgia instead, burying yourself in memories that never existed. But the soft touch of her hair against your chest, the way her face rises and falls as your chest draws breath, the sweat still lingering and stuck between your bodies—it’s all too real.

Your voice, watery and choked, manages to push a breath through your throat, "I know I can be a cynic—but that’s not really a whole lot to put faith in."

"Maybe. But you said it too."

Your eyes widen and your brow furrows. "When?"

"Couple years ago now. By text—because you’re an asshole."

The memory of it, sorrowful for as long you can remember, comes crashing back to you. "You—you never even opened it."

"I didn’t need to—not a whole lot else getting said in a text message at three in the morning. On New Year’s no less."

You sit in a brief silence, confounded by the old wound. The feeling of her fingertips caressing the skin atop your chest provokes a question, "But then why not respond?"

"You think reading it would’ve made it any easier on me?" She reaches again for the night stand, flipping out the lights from your room with the switch. "What was I supposed to tell you? Suffer in silence and wait for me?"

"Yeji. I’d have done it."

There’s a brief quiet as she moves back into the bed, only the sounds of her shuffling about reaching your ears. You feel her face press against yours in the dark, hot tears streaming down her cheek. "But would you do it still?"

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #itzy smut #itzy yeji #yeji smut

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 7 months

Text

(Attack on Titan) Annie, Mikasa, Sasha, Historia, and Ymir with an affectionate S/O

Hoo it's been a bit since we've seen these gals huh?

Annie doesn't particularly care that her S/O is very affectionate, at least not in private.

She doesn't get it, but she doesn't stop them either.

Though she's surprised upon hearing S/O's answer to her question.

(Annie) "Without any regrets..."

Annie still makes zero remarks about their clinginess, but she subtly holds them a little tighter from then on.

She won't say it, but she has the same thoughts, to die without regrets for the ones she loves.

Mikasa gets a bit flustered whenever S/O hugs her, not caring about the PDA to the rest of her squad.

It felt...nice.

When Mikasa asks S/O why they're so clingy, their answer doesn't exactly surprise her. Not in the way most people would expect anyway.

(Mikasa) "Not holding to my arm would be a regret of yours?"

(S/O) "Huh? N-No, I mean just not getting to hug you at all!"

Mikasa's cheeks slightly flush from such an obvious answer getting horribly misunderstood.

(Mikasa) "R-Right."

Mikasa always holds S/O tightly back, even if it does embarrass her a little.

Sasha does not care at all about the PDA.

She embraces it, and S/O openly.

Connie and Jean usually roll their eyes at their hugging, and try to avert their eyes to avoid dying of cringe.

Sasha on the other hand loves that they're so clingy! Physical affection was nice after all.

But, she wasn't expecting their answer.

(Sasha) "No regrets, huh?...I think I get that."

She says nothing else as she smiles, putting their head onto her shoulders.

Historia admits S/O's physical gestures were endearing, no matter how ill-timed they seemed to be.

Which was all the time, apparently.

It reminded her a bit of her cadet days, and wished they could go back to that time.

She was already in a somber mood when asking S/O what made them so clingy beside the obvious answer, and simply hums at their response.

(Historia) "I wish to live without regrets as well, S/O...It's all we can do at this point, isn't it?"

Ymir can't help but laugh and returns their affection with gusto, to hell with anyone watching!

Ymir feels powerful, knowing S/O needed her like this.

She plays up their affection and her role a lot, to the point of looking being overdramatic to anyone watching.

But behind closed doors, her attitude shifts from playful to far more quiet and thoughful.

(Ymir) "Hey, remember when I asked why you're so clingy? Truth is...I'm the same. If we're going to die soon, might as well make sure we live to the fullest before our time's up."

#attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan headcanons #annie leonhart x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #sasha blouse x reader #historia reiss x reader #ymir x reader #annie leonhart #mikasa ackerman #sasha blouse #historia reiss #ymir aot

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asmotheavatarofhorny · 1 year

Text

Clingy 💛

• Mammon x GN!MC

• Lots of cuddles described in great detail

• Slightly suggestive

⚠️ CW: describes MC with gorgeous, pretty, adorable; I personally see these terms as mostly gender neutral as of current, however I can see how some people could not! Enjoy :)

Mammon is hot.

And no, I don’t mean just his looks.

He runs warm, noticeably so, and unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with his clingy ass climbing into your bed every night.

Around 3:00 every night without fail, you hear the soft tapping of footsteps on the hardwood floor outside your door, the metal bolts creaking as they shifted to reveal a tall figure (to a human at least). The candlelight burning softly in the hall perfectly framed the boy in your doorway, his fluffy hair and lack of a shirt apparent.

You left your eyes closed. If he wanted cuddles, he would ask. You found that with Mammon, it was best to just let him take what he needed. If he wanted you, he would take you. That’s just how it was between the two of you.

And that’s what he did.

Carefully, and lightly, so lightly as to not make a sound on the floor that he’d memorized so well after the last few years he’d spent walking to and from your bed, just like this.

He towered over you, you were gorgeous. So pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, or just the overwhelming awe at the sight of his human. His adorable human. The one he loved so much. But you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Slowly, he grabbed the comforter from on top of you and pulled it back just enough for him to slip through. He slid into the nest of sheets you’d made yourself, still moving with caution to not wake you. He couldn’t have you seeing him like this. Not now.

He wrapped his arms around your torso and felt his face light on fire. How could he be this lucky? How could he have the nerve to hold such a sacred being such as yourself? How could you allow such a thing from him?

He buried his face into the back of your neck and breathed in your smell. Your essence. He felt himself longing for more. He needed more of you. He couldn’t bare it any longer, as he slowly creeped up under your shirt and rubbed the palm of his hand lightly across your torso.

A leg draped over your hip, and the other went in between your thighs. He found himself kissing your neck, almost suffocating at how sweet you tasted. How soft your skin was, how he longed to merge together with you. He wanted you to be his. He wanted to be you. He wished to crawl up into your skin and become apart of you for the rest of eternity.

You found yourself blushing at the second born’s antics, unable to keep up the disguise any longer. You turned to face him, burying your face into the soft part of his neck. He smelled sweaty, but you didn’t really care. His bare skin was warm, and you reveled in it. He was like your own personal sun.

He repositioned to make you more comfortable before holding you tighter. So impossibly tight you struggled to breathe. You could only smell him. You could only feel him. He was so close you could almost taste it. His soft breath beat down on your earlobe, making you shutter.

He had pulled your shirt up to your shoulders now, and you considered just letting him take it off for a moment. Soon enough though he was rubbing your back, so sweetly. So lovingly. It was almost sickening. His fingertips were like a magic spell, binding you together for the rest of time. And to be perfectly honest, you were okay with that.

This. This was your heaven.

In the morning you would surely be drenched in a thick layer of sweat and a half an hour late for school thanks to Mammon’s stubbornness, but it was worth it for this moment. This bliss that you called your first man.

You hoped deep down, that he would come back tomorrow and do it all again.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me cuddles #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #swd mammon #this has been in my drafts for a while #decided I may as well just post it lol #any more gender neutral terms that mean the same as pretty but aren’t quite so feminine?#I personally refer to myself as ‘pretty’ and have always thought of other guys as pretty also so idk #just seems a bit too feminine to be labeling the fic as “gender neutral yk??#part of why I kept this in drafts for so long lmaoo #probably overthinking it #LMAO I FORGOT TO ADD A TITLE SORRY

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happyk44 · 7 months

Text

Obsessing over the concept of Percy having so many dreams about Nico dying in front of him in different ways at camp or on quests and he has no idea what to do about them so he starts trying to get Nico to hang out with him and tries asking him in subtle ways about what's going on, trying to figure out if Nico is in dangerous without possibly freaking him out about Percy's dreams (who would feel safe if someone kept having dreams about them being murdered by faceless entities in orange shirts or killed by monsters)i

It goes nowhere. Nico is apparently fine, flitting between camp and the underworld and New Rome as he wishes. With more underworld kids coming into CHB for the summer, he's started spending more and more time there though, and all Percy can think of orange shirts and Nico's blood drenched in them

Eventually he caves and drives to camp, hunting down and cornering Clovis, who's passed out in a sunbeam like a cat. Percy steps into the grass and kicks him gently. Clovis wakes slow and tilts his face towards Percy. He stretches long, yawns loud. Percy stifles a responding yawn and squats.

"What's up, Percy?" Clovis hums.

Percy tugs at his fingers as he finds the right words. "I keep having shitry dreams," he decides on. Clovis arches a brow. Percy sits back and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What does it mean when you keep having dreams about someone dying?"

Baby blue blanket creasing, Clovis cocks his head. "Who's dying?"

Percy grits his teeth. "Does it matter?"

"Well, some dreams are just subconscious processing and some are my siblings being weird." Clovis blinks slow. People compare him to cows a lot, that baby softness on his cheeks and easy going demeanour. But Percy sees a cat more than anything. Domesticated and pampered. "And some are prophetic."

The grit of his teeth begins to hurt his jaw. "How do you know which one is which?"

Clovis hums and sits up slowly. He reaches down to his toes and flexes with a long groaning grunt. He gives a little sigh as he pulls away. "Well, I'd have to ask them if they're doing things. As for subconscious processing, that's just what's going on in your brain. And prophecies..." He hums thoughtfully. "I guess you wouldn't know until it happens." With half-closed eyes, he faces Percy. His head lags to the side. "So is there anything going on your brain to worry about this person dying?"

"Well, there is now," Percy says through gritted teeth. Clovis laughs, a trilling dreamy sound. Percy glares at him. "Clovis."

He shrugs. "I can ask around tonight." He picks at a blade of grass. "Who is it?"

Behind them, Nico is calling out to someone. It makes Percy's skin crawl. Kids laugh and Nico laughs and Percy wants to grab him and hide him. Clovis's bright orange camp shirt makes him feel like a bull, caged up with some idiot waving a red flag in front of him. He needs to rush forward and break the things bothering him. Skewer them and feel their blood drip down his skin.

He's starting to lose his mind.

"It doesn't matter." He too aware that the gap between question and answer was too long.

Clovis isn't looking at him but he feels watched anyway. "It could," Clovis says. "But at least I know it's not Annabeth. Or Grover." Percy startles and Clovis's grin is soft. "If it was, you would have said it before you even sat down." He gives another big stretch then flops back on his blanket, rolling over into a warmer brighter patch of sun. "Actually, you'd say if it was anyone." He tucks his legs up into his chest. "You'd keep quiet because you don't want to worry them. Which means there's probably some real concern there."

His eyes slide fully shut and he doesn't speak again. Heart pounding, Percy watches his serene face. He doesn't like that Clovis picked him apart like that. But not much he can complain or deny in it.

Knees whining, he stands slow. Part of him misses the Achilles' Curse for that reason alone. He liked it more when his body didn't hurt because of constant strenuous activity and the passage of time. He runs a hand through his hair.

What is he supposed to do? Wait for Clovis to tell him that his siblings were being assholes for no reason? To sit down and meditate about the reason his mind was focused in on Nico dying in various ways? Or worry unendingly that the universe was giving him a sneak peek at the future and soon he'd be standing at Nico's memorial, trying to figure out which person around him was the killer?

"Percy!"

He startles and turns. His skin crawls as Nico jogs up to him. There's a little boy practically pinned to his side. The closet they grow, the more Percy wants to shove Nico down deep where no one can find him. Ocean depths. He'd like the darkness, Percy thinks. Then he slaps the thought away as his arms begin to rise, his gut yanking towards the beach.

"Hey." It comes out breathless and wispy. "What's up?"

Nico's smile is gentle. It makes Percy's stomach cramp, the idea of it gone forever, bled out on forest grass. "Joel and I were seeing if he could summon ghosts." He gazes down at the little boy still tucked into his side. The kid is looking at Clovis. "Might be a bit of a trial for him though."

When the kid doesn't stop looking at Clovis, Nico pinches his ear and he tucks his face into Nico's side instead. He gives a ragged breath but Nico's easygoing look doesn't change.

It flits to the top of his tongue, but Nico answers before Percy has a chance to open his mouth.

"Ker," he says, "is his mom."

There is little Percy has forgotten from any of his underworld adventures, including being chased by those spirits while trying to stop Ethan from escaping with the sword. Violent death and disease. Feasted on human flesh. They couldn't kill, but they could harm and give death a jumpstart.

Percy's shoulder gives a phantom throb at the reminder.

"Didn't know she'd be interested in having kids," he says.

Nico's lip twitches and his arm curved around Joel's shoulders tightens him closer. "He's technically adopted." Joel's face tilts further away from Percy. "She thought he was cute."

There's definitely more to that story that Percy doesn't know how to ask about, so he just agrees passively that Joel is cute and they move on. Joel doesn't speak to anyone but Nico or make eye contact. He's a barnacle on Nico's side.

All Percy can focus on is his bright orange shirt and the violent death that thrums in his veins and how close he is to Nico. It would be accidental, Percy thinks, if Joel killed him. It's clear he likes Nico. It would be accidental if Nico was torn to shreds.

Percy wonders how easy it would be to get water into his lungs from the bottle he drinks from, how suspicious it would be if he drowned on dry land. Quickly he leaves with rushed goodbye. His hands are already plunging into pockets for his keys. He doesn't hear Nico's goodbye.

That night he dreads his dreams more than ever.

Joel is there this time. His face is wet, half hidden in shadows. Nico is front of him, sword out, protective. Then things slip and it's not Nico and Joel anymore, but one older girl and two younger kids behind her. The kids look terrified but the girl is enraged. Her obsidian sword slashes at someone rushing forward.

The world is too bright, Percy thinks. There are no shadows. It's like the sun is standing in front of them.

The girl shouts and beats off a pair of people who charge at her. With snapped necks, they fall to the ground in front of her. She yells and shoves her sword into the ground.

It splits so easily. The grass trembles. The earth rumbles. Skeletal hands claw out of the ground. Hazy spectres join them. The girl turns and grabs the kids while people fight the entities she summoned. The world is so bright, but there's shadows at the edge of the sunlight. She won't stop running. One of the kids runs alongside her. The other is held in her arms.

The shadows twist and flex towards them. It's unable to spread into the light. They're closing in. The first kid is closer, free of the weight of another person. The shadows greet her but she stumbles to a sudden stop, spinning around and staring pleadingly at the girl Percy realizes is one of Nico's half-sisters from long before.

Are the kids' Joel's half-siblings? he wonders.

"Go!" the girl shouts. The kid hesitates but the girl shouts again, "GO!"

The shadows swallow the kid with a wispy black maw. The girl is almost there when the ground creaks and groans. It rumbles violently, separating and splitting at the very seams. The earth opens before her.

Percy can see the decision she makes before she makes it, jumping over a gap in the earth before it splits too wide. She doesn't stop running even as she tosses the other kid into the air. He screams, a bloodcurdling thing that chills Percy down to his bones.

The shadows catch him. And he's gone.

The girl pants, gripping her knees as she bends over. The earth stops quaking. There's a few seconds where the only sound is panting. But as the people they were fleeing from close in, the girl laughs breathlessly and turns around.

"Isn't it fun when we chase each other?" she says. "I think we should do that more."

The leader of the little group is some tall boy who looks like he's never smiled in his life. He's bulky. Each muscle bulges and he glares. The girl is unphased.

"How dare you?" he seethes.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, my dad protects their parents." She grins, eyes dark like the void. Her hands flex at her side. "Why shouldn't I protect them? Especially since you refuse to listen to reason." She gestures widely. "Just because Chthonic is in the title doesn't mean it's bad. Chthonic means dirt, earth." She just her chin towards one of the kids. "You are technically Chthonic." She shrugs. "Besides, you fucking morons, they're kids. What kind of dipshit is scared of little kids just because their dad picks up dead people for a living?"

Her arms haven't lowered from where she's spread them. Her hands flex again, each finger tapping in the air, one after the other. Percy can't hear anything else that's said. It all goes muffled. It's obvious arguing. Judging from the pulled weapons, there are threats abound.

Then the earth breaks.

It's not the same as the earthquake before. This is a complete cave-in, the ground falling out from under their feet. She's the only person who doesn't look terrified to be falling. They all disappear into darkness. Like teeth chomping, the earth slams back together and seals itself over.

Then there's his ceiling. His fan is going in fast circles, a soft whrrrrr.

Sweat is sticky against his neck. Oh, he thinks.

Violent death and disease being present at every meal, every training, every campfire song. Someone was probably unnerved by it. Unnerved by him. Nico's protective hold was a wall in front of the bomb. It needed to be broken down so the danger could be disposed of, bomb defused.

He doesn't know when he grabbed his phone. Only aware of it pressed to his ear by the ringing. It goes for a while. His stomach churns.

A tired "H'lo?" passes through.

His stomach doesn't settle. "Hey, Nico. Sorry." He glances at his clock and winces. "Did I wake up?"

Nico snorts. "No," he grumbles. "I'm a vampire." Quiet breathing, tense silence. "Percy? Why are we on the phone right now?"

"I..." Percy pauses. Glances up to his ceiling fan, still spinning in fast circles. "I just. Had a weird dream." Nico makes a "go on" noise. Percy bites his lip and leans against the wall, drawing his knees up to his bare chest. "Have any of your siblings had to..."

Fight against other campers? Run with a pair of kids people wanted to kill because they thought they were dangerous? Commit suicide to stop those from going after the kids once they were safely away somewhere else?

There's nothing good in those questions.

He closes his eyes. "What was camp like for your siblings? Before?"

"Uh." There's some rustling. "Not good. Most campers didn't trust us because of the whole Underworld children thing. Lucky for them, my dad doesn't really go around spawning kids on a monthly basis."

Percy snorted. His fingers wove themselves into his sheets so tight they started to go numb.

"But we didn't have a lot of friends. People avoided us."

Blood on dark grass flickers through Percy's mind. "Or killed you," he blurts out.

His mind shuts down at the words. He can't process what he's said, barely hearing the whrrr of his ceiling fan or the sound of his own breath. His skin floats away from him. Then pulls back solid when Nico says, "How did you know that?"

He swallows thickly. "Like I said. Weird dream."

"About my siblings being killed at camp?"

Nico viciously protecting Joel comes to mind and sticks in place. "No," he says after a beat. "Technically I think she committed murder-suicide."

"Which one?"

Percy hates that question. Sourness floods his tongue and he answers with a gritted, "I didn't get a name. She was fighting off other campers, trying to protect a couple other kids from getting hurt."

A sarcastic little laugh echoes through the receiver. "Yeah, that's happen more than once."

The sheets unwind from his numb fingertips. "Fuck."

"It's been over five thousand years, Percy," Nico says. "Things tend to repeat themselves a few times." Percy doesn't know what to say to that. "Why were you dreaming about one of my sisters anyway?"

"I don't know," he says. It's the truth. He has no idea. But he has theories. And he has fears. "She was just there."

Nico is quiet. The sound of his breathing is steady, and Percy hones in on it. He matches each inhale and exhale with his own breaths.

When Nico does speak again, he almost sounds far away. "That's odd." There's a creak and a thump, like feet hitting the tile. "Is that why you were talking to Clovis?"

No. "Yeah."

"Interesting." His voice is faint, before suddenly loud and fast. "Hey, I have to go."

Percy's stomach churns violently. "But-"

His words speed fast together as he says, "I have to go do something, I'll call you back later."

There's no dial tone, just a loud clattering that makes Percy's heart drop directly into his stomach. Clovis's sleepy voice eclipses to max volume in his head. And prophecies... I guess you wouldn't know until it happens.

A dozen thoughts blur through his mind as he hikes up the window to the fire escape outside his bedroom. He should tell his mom he's leaving, he should call Grover, he should call Annabeth, he should make someone check on Nico.

He gropes around the top of his dresser for a spare dog whistle then blows through it hard and sharp as he clambours out through the window, shirtless, shoeless, and panicking.

Mrs. O'Leary barks up at him from the dark alleyway. Shadows still cling to her dark fur. He doesn't even bother racing down the stairs. Just throws himself over the railing. Nico's name echoes in his head like a broken record as he falls. Soft fur grips tight in his hands. He doesn't feel the pain of landing, shadows swallowing them both before he can even recognize that he did.

It's strange to appear just a few feet away from a gaggle of kids threatening your cousin and the kid he's chosen to protect. Behind the group yelling words Percy can't hear under the roar of blood in his ears, there's a couple other kids - twins of Erebus - sneaking towards them.

They get close.

But they get caught.

Nico snaps forward and Percy's hitting the ground before he understands what's happening. It goes by so fast, he can barely remember his own actions. Everyone's still breathing. But banged up heavily, or unconscious. Joel is crying wheezy little tears while his aunts try to comfort him, and Nico...

Nico is gripped so tight in Percy's arms that Percy worries he might've broken something. He relaxes slow. Nico detaches. Mrs. O'Leary's hot breath huffs against the top of his head. Nico gives her a pat on the nose, not looking at Percy as he turns to Joel and checks in on him.

Percy's watching the slump of bruised campers before him. His blood feels too hot. Sweat drips down his back but his skin is too dry. He takes a step forward. A hand shoves against his chest and he gazes down at void eyes.

The world slams back into place.

He breathes.

"You are ocean water," Nico says very quietly. "Not blood and human viscera."

His mouth is dry. There's something inside him that wants. "Water is water."

"Not like that," Nico says. Percy swallows and steps back. Nico lowers his hand. Then turns to face Joel and the twins. His voice brightens up, feigned cheeriness, as he marches towards them. "Joel, do you want to go live with my brother's cult?"

Distantly Percy feels like he remembers Nico saying something about that once, but he can't remember what, so his mind draws question marks he doesn't ask as he twists on his heel. Nico crouches, speaking in a steady soft tone. The girls are holding each other's hands. They spare looks for the people who were scared of their nephew, and spare looks towards Percy. It's the same look.

They look away when Nico says something to them, vanishing hand-in-hand into shadows. Nico whistles and Mrs. O'Leary approaches with heavy steps. Joel hugs her leg. His ragged breaths are wheezed tired and weary into her fur. Nico keeps a steady hand on his back.

There is no murder-suicide this time. Instead the shadows swell and deposits the twins, with Mr. D and Chiron beside them. Nico cuts them off when Chiron tries to question him. He takes long way out with the girls on either side of him towards the Apollo cabin.

He doesn't follow the girls back into the woods with healers on their tail. Instead he opens the door to the Hades cabin and sits on a wooden chair. There's a buzz of white noise from a nearby noise machine. Otherwise everything is quiet. Nico's phone sits where it had been dropped to the ground minutes before.

His blood still feels too hot.

It feels like hours later when Nico walks in. However, the clock on the wall says it's only been twenty minutes. Joel is tucked up into his side. He goes down without a fight into Nico's bed. Lets himself be tucked in and drift off. Then Nico pulls another chair around and settles down in front of Percy, straddling the chair backwards. His arms cross over the top. His chin rests on folded wrists.

They watch each other. Then Nico moves to rest his cheek on his wrists instead. "You've been having those dreams for a while?"

Percy makes an affirmative noise.

"They haven't really been about my siblings, have they?"

He doesn't answer that. Instead, he says, "If people kept doing things like this, why didn't you guys make your own place?"

"We did," Nico says. "A few times actually. But no one liked that they didn't know what we were doing. So they made us come back to be hated and suffer." He snorts. "The old adage - keeps your friends close and enemies closer."

Percy doesn't laugh. "Why did she adopt him?"

Nico lifts his head. "Some things had happened when she found him. She took an interest and gave him her blessing."

"What things?"

Nico looks to the ceiling. "Things that help her fill her fridge with food to eat." His eyes flicker back down to Percy. "Only Chiron and Mr. D know the specifics. But Joel is fine." He glances over his shoulder. "He's a good kid. No one needs to be scared of him." He turns back to Percy. "Now answer my question."

Blood still too hot, Percy stares at a spot just above Nico's head. Then grits his teeth. "I don't like watching you die."

"I'm not scared of dying," Nico says. "None of us are. It's why it's always been so easy to take care of them. Take the dislike, take the insults, take the threats."

Percy stares at him. Then repeats, "I don't like watching you die."

Nico stares back. "You're not going to."

It's hard to believe that. So he leans forward, reaching out to grab the top of Nico's chair and pull it down until he can feel Nico's cool breath against his skin. "If I keep having those dreams, I'm gonna take a page from your dad's book and kidnap you."

Nico's lips twitch, but his voice stays even. "Then I guess you should keep in mind to make room in your dungeon because I'll be bringing a few people along." He lifts a hand and strokes a thumb down the side of Percy's face. "I heard your siblings were pretty protective too." His fingers slip away. Percy's skin yearns. "Something about how the ocean drowns what it loves and drowns what it hates."

That's not protection, Percy thinks. It's possession.

But he doesn't say that outloud.

Not yet.

He slowly lets the chair fall backwards until it lands stable on all four legs. He wants to deny Nico's statement about drowning. But he has - at least what he hates. Ahkyls, the mountain lion that tried to attack Grover, those kids. Only one success. But the want, the need...

"I should head home," he says slowly. It takes him a minute to process his words and stand up, heading for the door.

Nico makes a low noise and stands too. "Sweet dreams," he says once Percy has walked out into the night, still barefoot and shirtless.

Percy climbs onto Mrs. O'Leary's back. "I hope so."

#back on my bullshit lmao #happy talks pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #my writing #my fanfic #and it is 1am and i need to sleep so im just gonna. stop.#not even gonna review it to see if it makes sense bc im just. so tired rn.#but yeah i have been obsessed with the concept of percy having dreams of the past to indicate the future #and it's always about nico's past half-siblings getting bullied by campers as a hint that someone there is gonna do something hinky to him #okay niiiiiight

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fanfictionalhooligan · 10 months

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The Swordsmith's Spring〚Haganezuka x Kakushi/Reader Oneshot〛

Preface: Haganezuka is left discouraged after the failure of his first matchmaking arrangement. Tecchin's next pick for him is a Kakushi, oddly enough, but he obliges. He has little hope that his Spring will arrive (as Kanamori words it), but love has a strange way of bringing together those who look after the Demon Slayers.

Intended to be a follow-up to the Demon Slayer novel, Telltale Signs of the Wind. This story can still be read independently but it probably hits differently if you've read the light novel. I added a link to the specific chapter at the end of the story, but if you just want a quick overview then see this post!

"I think we've met before, Haganezuka-san."

"...Is that so?"

"Just for a few seconds. You, um, were running with a knife and yelled at me to get out of the way."

"...Oh." Haganezuka had no memory of this. He'd delivered too many death threats and knife chases in his life to recall small details. "Sorry if I frightened you."

"It's okay. I yell at Demon Slayers a lot, too," the female Kakushi replied. "They can be really frustrating."

"They are."

So, this would be the first topic of their matchmaking. Knives and yelling at Demon Slayers.

The two of them were here on extremely short-notice thanks to Tecchikawahara Tecchin, the Swordsmith Village chief. The old man had taken one look at her face a few days ago and shamelessly asked if she was married. He wasn't supposed to see her face at all, actually, but a spider had crawled under her mask and caused her to shriek and yank off her entire hood in wild terror. Tecchin lit up with glee and told her that his adopted son, Haganezuka Hotaru, was looking for a wife.

The chief was persistent and beseeched her to stay for just a couple of days in the Swordsmith Village, no matter how many ways she tried to find excuses to escape for work duty. However, there was something endearing about the way Tecchin wished for "Spring to finally blossom" for his son and for her as well. The female Kakushi gave in and decided that there was nothing to lose from one matchmaking meeting, anyway. She was constantly given a hard time about being unmarried, but what was she supposed to do? The Kakushi had her running all over Japan with Demon Slayers on her back, and she was never in one place long enough to meet a potential suitor. Still, at least she could get everyone off her case after this meeting and say that she'd tried.

...As it turned out, it was mostly Tecchin trying to find a wife for Haganezuka. The latter was carrying on with his life and his swords as always, and no one told him anything until she'd already agreed to the meeting. He threw a fit but grudgingly obliged since it would be rude, even for him, to disregard her gesture.

And here they were.

For two people who apparently yelled at Demon Slayers a lot, they could only manage a quiet mumble when they spoke to each other. Tecchin had insisted that they show up without their masks, claiming that their good looks would be sure to make a lasting impression and a shame to keep hidden. Besides, it was safe given that they'd both been working alongside the Demon Slayers for several years and needed no explanation. Tecchin arranged the meeting in a secluded area away from the village houses, surrounded by Sakura trees and difficult for onlookers to spot.

Secluded or not, though, sitting out here on the grass in broad daylight without a mask felt similar to being naked. The fact that she actually found Haganezuka as handsome as he found her beautiful, true to Tecchin's claims, somehow made it worse. They couldn't look each other in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time before getting embarrassed and pretending to focus instead on the plate of dango between them.

She decided to choose the first thing within sight that she could start a conversation about. "So... I hear that this is your favorite food?" she held up her skewer of dango.

Haganezuka had just stuffed one of the round masses of sweet dough into his mouth and gestured with his free hand for her to give him a moment. After a loud gulp, he cleared his throat. "Yeah. Mitarashi dango's my favorite."

"I can see why. They're really good," she remarked, taking a bite from her own stick of dangos.

"Wish I could eat them every day," Haganezuka added.

"Yes, wouldn't that be great?" she responded as cheerfully as she could manage. He was making it very difficult to keep the conversation alive and had returned to eating without replying. "So, um...do you have any hobbies, Haganezuka-san?"

His face hardened for some reason. "Making swords."

"Hey, it's great that you see your work as a hobby, too!" the Kakushi girl exclaimed, trying not to think too much into his sour expression. Haganezuka seemed surprised, though, lifting one of his glaring, jagged eyebrows."That makes it more fun since it's usually a really strenuous process, right?" she continued. "On top of that, the Demon Slayers just throw new requests at you as if you could magically just hand a new one to them the next day."

"I would still make swords whether or not anyone uses them. I enjoy it." Haganezuka stopped eating and just looked down at the dango skewer in his fingers instead.

"Well, that must be how you became so great at it," she told him earnestly.

Haganezuka smiled halfheartedly. "It's odd... I was asked the same question last time."

"Last time, as in, you had another matchmaking meeting?" she exclaimed. For some reason, she wasn't fond of the idea of another woman entertaining a chance to marry him.

"Sorry, forget I mentioned anything. Nothing good came out of it." Haganezuka straightened up and cleared his throat, a little ashamed. "...But I do like your answer better."

"Oh, about your hobby?" she remarked, unsure of what he meant. "Eh...what else would someone say? If you don't mind."

Haganezuka went silent for a moment. "...That swords are barbaric weapons that should be left in the past for me to look into more useful things. Like kitchen knives." The Kakushi stared at him in horror. "That's all."

"Someone actually said that?" She suddenly threw down her unfinished stick of dango and startled him. "What - why?"

Haganezuka shrugged. "I rejected the arrangement."

Everyone who met him was able to tell within minutes how much he adored swords. Whoever wanted him to discard them like useless artifacts might as well have told him to go kill himself. The Kakushi was enraged. "Kitchen knives?!" she repeated. He said nothing. "Well, how about those kitchen knives you chase after Demon Slayers with, then?" she scowled. "Yeah, let's see how much she loves kitchen knives after -"

"Those aren't kitchen knives," Haganezuka interrupted plainly. "Too dangerous. They might look like cutlery, but I made them extremely sharp. I wouldn't recommend them for cooking."

"...Oh." She was thrown off by the random comment about the actual knives, rather than the person that deserved to be hunted down by them. "I, um, didn't know."

He didn't add anything else.

It was probably a better idea not to talk about it. He was still sitting over there without touching the plate of dango.

She thought of something else. "You know, I've always wondered how swordsmiths know what to use to forge a Nichirin Blade." Haganezuka's face immediately brightened, and she couldn't help smiling. "Maybe it's obvious to you, but I personally can't tell them apart from regular swords until they change colors. Is there a special component in the metal?"

"Absolutely." Haganezuka's voice was suddenly clear and confident, sounding nothing like their initial conversation about knives and yelling at Demon Slayers. "Have you ever heard of Mount Yoko?" he asked eagerly.

"I haven't," she replied curiously. "But the name sounds familiar. Where is it?"

"It's the mountain closest to the sun," Haganezuka explained avidly. "It's bathed in sunlight all day, and that's where you'll find Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand and Scarlet Ore, which is what we use to forge Nichirin Blades." The young woman nodded along, fascinated. "The result is a sword that absorbs sunlight," continued Haganezuka. "The source of the very thing that kills demons and makes them terrified of the day."

"That's amazing, Haganezuka-san!" She was able to look at him directly for once, without remembering about the whole mask thing and how foreign it felt not to have one. "So, all the blades actually come from the same place? Even with so many different colors and finishes?"

"Yeah, isn't that incredible?" Haganezuka exclaimed. "When I see the sun's energy flow through a new blade, how it transforms into colors and patterns that are entirely unique to the owner of the sword... It's one of the most beautiful things in the world."

Her eyes sparkled with awe as she tried to picture it. "Wow, I wish I could see that, too. And the mountain sounds like it would be a very beautiful place."

"Oh, you have no idea." Haganezuka was glowing with joy as if he were standing on the actual mountain. "The sunlight makes everything flourish - every leaf greener, every flower more vibrant, every tree taller." He gazed off into the distance, presumably in the direction of the mountain. "There's a river with a waterfall as clear as glass, and you'll see streaks of the ores running across the rocks near its bank. There are just...so many things that words can't even describe."

"It sounds gorgeous..." the Kakushi said breathlessly. "Can I go with you next time? I want to see it, too."

The question flew right over his head. Haganezuka was completely immersed in his praise of the Nichirin mountain and continued to ramble. It was a pure, almost childlike kind of adoration that the Kakushi found endearing, and she patiently continued to listen.

"I would live on Mount Yoko if I didn't have to stay in the village to forge the swords," Haganezuka declared. "In fact, that's where I want to get married." He suddenly froze on the spot.

"I-I mean...just in general. T-that's where I would choose to have my wedding...if I got...married."

It was as if Haganezuka just remembered why they were even sitting here, talking to each other. On the other hand, the Kakushi was a bit relieved that she didn't have to be the one to bring it up first. There was an odd silence in the air as they simply looked at each other, both of them setting the dango sticks quietly back onto the plate.

"Hotaru..." she finally began, ever so softly. His face was burning red as she called him by his name. It sounded lovely, coming from her voice.

A particularly harsh gust of wind suddenly rattled all the Sakura trees above them, causing a flurry of pink petals to blow straight at their faces. A good number of petals flew into Haganezuka's mouth, while another one of them hit the Kakushi's eye along with a cloud of pollen. The two of them jolted as their arms flailed in the ambush.

"Pffft -" Haganezuka hunched over and spat the pink petals out irritably; the young woman next to him violently rubbed her eyes to get rid of the stinging pollen. At some point, the two of them stopped and looked at each other. They suddenly began to laugh.

"Hey, it's definitely Spring," the Kakushi giggled.

"Well, that's one way to be reminded."

The petals were everywhere - caught in their hair, down their backs, fluttering over their shoulders.

The moment had passed; the two of them were more fixated on brushing the sakura petals away from their faces, which weren't used to particles getting on them after wearing masks for too long. Haganezuka didn't look like he was planning to repeat anything he'd blurted about mountains anytime soon and started picking Sakura petals off of the dango plate instead.

She had no idea how to comment on it, either. But honestly, she enjoyed spending time with him here and was okay with just talking and sharing with one another their stories. All she'd ever heard about him was that he'd go completely off the handle whenever his swords got damaged and could not be reasoned with. She'd heard many rants from former clients - even if the lower-ranked Slayers seemed to complain the most - and it made her sad that he probably didn't receive many thank-yous.

"You know...I can always tell when a sword's been forged by you, Haganezuka-san."

He was eating another row of dango and looked up with surprise. "Is that so?" His face was relaxed again and eyed her curiously.

"Most of the Demon Slayers who use your swords look terrified whenever the blade needs to be repaired or reforged," she replied sheepishly.

"...You mean because of me."

The young woman let out a nervous laugh. "Y-yes."

"Anyone who brings harm to a Nichirin Sword deserves death," Haganezuka replied matter-of-factly. "It's their own fault."

"But there's more than that. Your swords are sharpened with such precision and polished so flawlessly that when it's nighttime, I can see the moon and stars reflecting from their blades."

Haganezuka's face grew warm, but he brushed the compliment aside. "All Nichirin Blades are like that. And if they're not, the wielder probably got it dirty and is a careless slob that deserves to die."

"But the thing is...I've seen a lot of Nichirin Blades." The young woman's eyes suddenly went downcast. "When Demon Slayers are killed, the Kakushi take their swords back to the village to be reforged into new ones." There was a heavy silence. "A lot of times, the blades tell me how it ended. Some are broken. Some are bent. Some are still splattered with blood."

Haganezuka was taken aback when her eyes began to water. "H-hey, are you okay?" he exclaimed, reaching out his arm awkwardly towards her for a moment before stopping himself.

"I'm fine...thank you, Haganezuka-san," the Kakushi replied with a somber smile. "I just get reminded of my friends from the Demon Slayer corps who never made it back from battle. Some of them died while I was still carrying them on my back." She swallowed back a lump in her throat. "But it's good to have a body to bury, you know. We're not always that lucky. Sometimes there's nothing left but a limb or a finger here and there, an eyeball, or just some scattered organs. We identify those Demon Slayers by their swords instead."

Haganezuka felt his stomach twist. How many times had this Kakushi seen such things? She was describing it so calmly, completely composed. Graceful, even. But every once in a while her voice shook, ever so slightly. It betrayed a deep, underlying grief that no one in the Demon Slayer Corps nor their associates could truly recover from. Haganezuka himself constantly dreaded the possibility of seeing another one of his swords in those bloodstained piles that were sent back for reforging. How did this Kakushi stay sane? She was out there delivering corpses - or pieces of them - and witnessing the maddening grief from their loved ones. Over and over again.

The young woman could sense the concern and looked away for a moment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said so much. People don't need to hear that."

Haganezuka wished he had something more useful to say. "No, it's fine -"

She cut him off. "What I really meant to tell you is, I've recovered more swords than I can count from fallen Demon Slayers. And yet, I rarely ever see one engraved with the Haganezuka family's crest."

"Oh...maybe because there aren't as many of those," Haganezuka replied gruffly. "People prefer other swordsmiths." As much as he loved swords more than humans with little regard for anyone's opinion, it still was discouraging whenever a Demon Slayer stormed off and demanded a more tolerable swordsmith.

"That's not what I'm getting at." The Kakushi girl suddenly gazed intently at him, causing him to pause for a moment. "I never see your swords laying out there, in all that blood, because the people you made them for are still alive. It's your dedication, the love you put into making each blade, that endures and protects them and makes it possible for them to win." She gazed softly at him with humble admiration. "That's how I know when you've forged a Nichirin Sword, Hotaru."

Something warm and bright glowed deep inside his chest. "Is that really how you see it?" Haganezuka asked, his eye glittering as he gazed back at her.

"Yes, I mean it! And the swordsmen who trust you with their Nichirin Blades can do amazing things," she told him earnestly. "Urokodaki Sakonji. Tomioka Giyu. Kamado Tanjiro -"

"The Kamado boy lost his previous sword and was willing to use a basic, first-degree blade before I could finish sharpening it to its full potential!" Haganezuka immediately threw in. His brow twitched just from the memory. "Forget the demons, I wanted to kill him myself!"

"Oh...right, I've heard." A bead of sweat ran down her temple. "But even so, you were the one who honed the sword that Tanjiro used to slay a demon that would have killed everyone in the village. It gave him time to save a lot of people because you were so committed to finishing the job that you refused to stop, even while you were wounded. And you even lost your eye..." She unconsciously reached towards his face, where his left eye was permanently shut with two long scars that crossed each other over the lid.

"I still don't remember exactly how my eye ended up like this," Haganezuka commented obliviously, scratching his head.

The young woman quickly placed her hand back down. "What do you mean?"

"I was in the workshed for days, honing one of the finest blades I've ever had the honor of being entrusted with until that misty Hashira brat suddenly took it and ran off," Haganezuka grumbled. "I noticed that my left eye was bleeding for some reason, and it hurt when I tried to open it." He scrunched his face as he tried to recall the details. "Everyone tells me that a demon crushed it, but I have no idea what it looked like or when it appeared. It was already dead by the time I noticed."

The young woman stared at him incredulously. "Wow...they weren't joking about your ability to focus beyond human limits."

"Huh?" Haganezuka blinked. "I thought all swordsmiths never get distracted while forging."

"But with you, it's, um..."

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, no. Not at all," she quickly retorted. "I think it's amazing, really. I've never met anyone so dedicated to their craft. That's a commitment to be admired, you know."

She had such a bright, endearing smile. It was contagious, and Haganezuka found himself smiling as well. "I appreciate that." Upon closer look at her face, however, it occurred to him that he could still see a shadow of grief in her eyes, just beneath the surface. The sadness was so subtle, so quiet without daring to speak out loud. It made his chest grow heavy.

"Is something wrong, Hotaru?" she asked, cocking her head a little. His name sounded impossibly beautiful again.

"I want to ask you something." Haganezuka turned to face her, suddenly stern. "Do you ever get to rest?"

"...What do you mean?"

"When you're out there, tending to the dead bodies and their abandoned swords. When you see the hell on earth that demons bring to humans." He spoke so bluntly that the young woman jolted and her eyes went wide, her face growing pale. "Does your spirit ever get a break for you to rest?" he asked, deathly serious. "You, the Kakushi, literally carry our swordsmen and look after them and let them rest. Even if they're dead. Even if they're in pieces." Without thinking, Haganezuka reached forward and grasped her shoulders. "But what about you? Who carries you? Who is there when you're the one who needs to rest?"

The young woman looked down at the ground, completely silent. Her shoulders began to tremble. "I..."

Haganezuka held her shoulders more gently when he realized that there were tears pooling beneath her eyes. He'd gone somewhere that she couldn't hide them.

"You don't have to worry about me...but thank you," she replied softly, almost a melancholy whisper.

Okay, that was it. "Listen," he told her, holding an intense gaze. "Remember all the things you just told me earlier? About my impact as a swordsmith and empowering Demon Slayers and all that." His face was turning red again, but he wanted to tell her. "That...made me really happy."

She was at a loss for words, but her face grew pink as she looked up and met his gaze.

"I want you to know that you give just as much as I do to the well-being of the Demon Slayers. You put so much care and dedication into making sure that they are looked after and can become strong enough to fight again. My swords won't do a thing to save them if they're still beaten up and left out there to die. Without the Kakushi, Demon Slayers would crumble without the strength to even lift a blade again. You keep them alive to fight, too."

"Hotaru..."

"But if you ever feel like you can't take it anymore," he went on, "If your spirit is shaken, you don't have to put on a smile and force yourself back out there right away. You...you can come to me." He never imagined that he'd be saying these kinds of words in his life, but it felt right. "You can tell me all about it, you can cry - anything at all that would help - I want you to come to me. You don't have to shoulder all the pain."

She nodded silently. Haganezuka felt her shoulders lift and then drop again with a sigh of relief, held steady by his calloused hands. He wasn't sure when their faces had gotten this close to each other, but he couldn't look away from her eyes. They were green like the fresh leaves of Spring that emerged after a long Winter.

It suddenly occurred to her that the sun had begun to set. "So, um...I think it's getting dark soon."

"Oh. Yeah, it is."

"What are we supposed to tell Tecchikawahara-san?"

The two of them shared a long, tender gaze.

"If you ask me, I'd tell the old man that there's going to be a wedding on Mount Yoko," Haganezuka declared. He paused for a moment and went still. "If...if that's okay with you." His voice grew quiet, suddenly afraid that she might recoil and run away from him like all the Demon Slayers. "If you'll have me."

"Yes, Hotaru," she told him gently. "With all my heart."

- The End

Thank you for reading💚

You have my gratitude forevermore for setting aside time for this little tale 🥹

POST-CREDITS AND COMMENTARY:

This is the first tumblr fanfic I've attempted, but I also posted it on AO3 here if anyone else likes to have a traditional story page format! I never intended to write a Demon Slayer fic at all actually! But in the light novel Haganezuka was down in the dumps for several days after the incident with the stinker who called swords barbaric; the chapter ends with Kotetsu's prayer that Spring will arrive for him one day. That was just too sad to me so I wanted to give Spring to Haganezuka myself :')

I intentionally left out any mention of Ms. Kakushi's name so that you can choose to interpret the POV or treat her face as more of a placeholder for yourself if you'd like. If you like the default OC, however, she's in fact a retcon and referenced from this young lady! Picked for her green eyes and presence in the Swordsmith's Village and hey, maybe they even glanced at each other. Here's her profile if you'd like to roll with it (link!)

I designed and illustrated the rest of her for this story using a combination of blank OC templates and body references to adapt to our hotheaded swordsmith. See the links below!

I also drew a random epilogue comic (link)

All fanart and overview of continuity

Care for Part 2?

REFERENCES:

Light Novel Chapter and Inspiration

Drawing Base 1

Drawing Base 2

Drawing Base 3

Drawing Base 4

Drawing Base 5

Drawing Base 6

#haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #haganezuka x you #haganezuka x oc #hotaru haganezuka #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #hotaru haganezuka x reader #hotaru haganezuka x you #hotaru haganezuka fic #hotaru haganezuka demon slayer #kny x you #kny x reader #haganezuka fanfiction

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lunawings · 2 months

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While I was in Japan during March 2024, I was able to visit the Pretty Rhythm Rainbow Live 10th Anniversary Exhibit. This is my favorite anime of all time, so it was an incredible honor.

Unfortunately, you could not take pictures in many areas and I always try my best to be respectful and follow the rules. So, I will describe it.

The walls of the first room were covered in several tapestries depicting each individual episode of the anime, so you could reminisce about everything that happened as you slowly walked through the room. In the middle of the room, there were several exhibits perfectly recreating every single paper, notebook, sketch...

Hokkaido itinerary? Wakana and Bell's test scores? Momo's Happy Rain costume sketches? Naru and Bell's manager applications? The score to pride? Any piece of paper you can think of that appeared in PRRL, it was all HERE! Recreated with meticulous accuracy...

The next room was the photo room where you could take pictures in Prism Stone or in front of Rinne's feathers.

Something else they had here which was really neat, was all of these mini photo ops of various scenes from the anime that you could put your plushies or figures into! As I rarely have someone with me to take photos of myself at events like this, and I rarely post them even when I do, NGL I loved it. I wish I had brought something! I did have a PAF Naru on my bag I could have used, but it would have taken time to unpin her so unfortunetly I did not.

The next room contained an exhibit of various merch from throughout the years.

Unfortunately, there wasn't really much merch to look at in the classic section. Just the guitars, some stones, and the Smart Pod Shot. But I definitely think there was more than that back in the day! There has to have been because I own at least one thing that was not in here (a pool bag) haha!

They also had a REAL prism guitar on display, which apparently they are actually going to sell at some point!?

The last part of the exhibit before going to the gift shop, was a hallway with messages from all the voice actresses and the director. This was also a zone where photos were banned, but I remember in the director's he acknowledged Rainbow Live as being the only Pretty Rhythm season to achieve a 10th anniversary celebration and ended his commentary with "Glorious Pretty Rhythm" hahaha. Next was the gift shop...

Which was honestly super disappointing... I was prepared to spend a lot of money here, but in the end, I barely bought anything. Everything, EVERYTHING good was blind and the stuff that wasn't was just so expensive.

Like, they had this set of Hiro cards with his magazine covers and debut poster and I really wanted them but when I actually saw them it was like... 2,000 yen? FOR THREE CARDS!? Those tiny little cards you can see up there below the keychains?

????????????

Am I missing something!?

In the end I bought two Wakana boards and two clear files. And the one blind thing I couldn't resist was the Prism Stone badges... which turned out to be Otoha x2 and one Ann. Gah.

I also might have bought a Wakana plush doll, but she was sold out. Out of all the Rainbow Live girls she was the only one sold out both here and at Tokyo Station Prism Stone.

And here were the bonuses I got. Including, yes, the AiPri card. So for people who saw me posting it over on @pretty-idol-hell, this was where it came from.

I also got a very special letter, which I am saving to translate at a later date...

Outside the event was an up and running Pretty Rhythm machine, or so I thought. Wow, no line! I said to myself as I happily bounced up to it only to find the coin slot taped over and a sign reading it could not be used. Darn. (I know there's no prism stones left in the wild, but come on, there's no free play mode...? Well, I guess even if there was they wouldn't want people loitering around the exhibition.)

Anyway, as you read I did have a few complaints, but it still makes my heart happy that this event existed at all. I loved all the time and effort that went into making all the recreations of things!

#pretty rhythm #prrl #pretty rhythm rainbow live

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eddo-tensei · 10 months

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The Power of Love according to Season 5 of Miraculous

Something disturbing dawned on me concerning...a lot of the development in Season 5 and it comes down to one thing: Love.

At first, Andre and Felix getting redeemed while Chloe gets sent off to the worst fate the show would allow didn't make a lot of sense. The only thing I could get from the writers was just that "Chloe bad, so everyone else good." It was stupid, but it wasn't insidious. At least, not that insidious at first. And then the finale with Gabriel happened and while it took me a while to process my frustrations with this, something finally clicked. Not only concerning that, but some of the other developments I've seen.

Felix getting another chance to the point of JOINING the heroes in the new universe seemed like nonsense until you look at what happened before that. He was someone who Astruc went out of his way to bury in the narrative and was exclusively causing trouble for everyone up to and including GENOCIDE...until he showed his love to Kagami. Suddenly, his actions are seen as righteous and his backstory of being abused by his father was justification for his actions. You see, he loved Kagami and he also apparently loved Adrien too because they were "the same."

Andre was basically just some corrupt politician who was also a pathetic snob. Then when Zoe came in, we suddenly get all of these humanizing bits about how Chloe totally mistreated him (because apparently, not having the guts to say no to your daughter is mistreatment) and when he divorced Audrey, he gets Zoe because he's someone he could be happy with. A true familial love unlike the one he had with Chloe.

Chloe, meanwhile, doesn't love anyone as far as the writers are concerned. Any genuine connection she might have in either the platonic, familial, or the romantic sense, whether it'd be to Adrien, Sabrina, Zoe or Ladybug, are shown to be either fake or so utterly shallow, it doesn't count as "love." With that, everything she does is absolutely reprehensible and doesn't deserve a shred of forgiveness even if it's clear she's a neglected child who needed help. BUT, because she "doesn't love anyone", she doesn't get redemption and deserves to be sent away with a parent who doesn't love her either. Same with Lila, she doesn't love anyone at all and in fact, just jumps from family to family purely to keep up her manipulations.

Finally, we have Gabriel, who had done nothing but sheltered, belittled, and outright ABUSED Adrien as well as commit a multitude of horrid crimes throughout the series. His actions constantly escalated in awfulness throughout the series, even showing that he doesn't care if he destroys the universe to get what he wants. Yet there was always this trait he possessed. His love for Emilie and that ended up coming to the forefront in the finale. Marinette, who had Gabriel dead to rights, decided at the last moment to try and appeal to his humanity because she knows he loved Emilie and in her mind, that love is enough grounds for her to offer him one chance to step up and help. Then when Gabriel opts to betray Marinette and starts the wish, he tells her at the last moment to try and help Adrien remember all of the times he "tried to be a good father," which is apparently an indicator that he actually LOVED Adrien too. THAT ended up being why Marinette decided to lie about Gabriel by saying he died fighting Monarch and went as far as to try and tell Adrien to remember him as a good man. All because she knew Gabriel "loved" him.

This tells me something distressing. Now, the concept of "Love Redeems" is something I'm not at all against and is in fact common in a lot of stories I like. However, it's what Miraculous does with this concept in Season 5 that angers me. The message of Miraculous ends up giving in its grand finale for the Agreste arc isn't that love can help people find the way to kindness. It's that anything you do can be justified as long as you do it for "love." It doesn't matter if you purposely get a cab driver in trouble, attempt to sabotage a date that your crush is in, put together a project that tries to commercialize air, betray someone to help a terrorist, commit genocide, cause untold amounts of damage to your town and beyond, or even destroy the universe! As long as you love someone, everything you do can be justified. Except when we decide that you don't love ANYONE, then we'll do everything in our power to show that all of your connections don't count as love so you can have the worst punishment we could possibly muster. Regardless of intent, that's how the writers ended up describing the Power of Love in Season Five of Miraculous and that's wretched to me.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #ml writers salt #ml salt #chloe bourgeois #gabriel agreste #felix fathom #felix graham de vanily #ml argos #kagami tsuguri #emilie graham de vanily #emilie agreste #andre bourgeois #zoe lee #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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