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writingmochi · 2 years

Text

chapter viii. exit music

cast: grunge kid!yeonjun ✗ art student/painter!fem.reader

synopsis: you’re an out-of-place art student living in your childhood hometown, pursuing your dream of becoming a painter. one day, you were given a mysterious responsibility as you try to not get your childhood best friend killed

genre: coming of age, college/university au, childhood best friend au, supernatural au, angst, fluff, mature content (sensitive topics and explicit smut)

based on: video game life is strange (2013)

word count: 14000 (14k)

taglist? now closed

warning(s): abduction, drugged until unconscious, inappropriate student-teacher relationship, sexual harassment (definitely non-consensual), traumatic experience, suggestive themes, implicit mention of self-harm (if i forgot some, let me know)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction. do be careful and read the warnings at the top as both the chapter and the series as a whole will contain serious and sensitive topics.

hello! thank you for waiting for a month for this ‘cause uni has been crazy :( this is the final part of the series and i’m so proud of how this turned out holistically. it is crazy to know that it took me 10 months to do a series that is set only goes for a month in the fic *chuckles* but i’m so happy to finally give out the finished story. tbh i really don’t know what to say other than my appreciation towards you who have read or even binge-read when the series is finished. i tried to implement all of my ideas for this series together in a cohesive way and i’ve tried my best. so yeah, hope you enjoy this part!

p.s. there is more to time wave!yeonjun’s tattoos than there is in the banner…

masterlist

the air around you is frigid when you open your eyes.

it feels heavy as blurry white spotlights seem to enter the little crack. the sound fades into one of your ears as the other one only hears the muffled version of a piece that minjeong has introduced to you before. albeit a bit more chaotic than the ones you’ve put in your playlist, which is more of an ambiance you like to listen to when doing what you’re doing day-to-day. it didn’t help that the sight that you can view is blurry, straight lines curved unrealistically.

you can sense the blood flowing to your head as the throbbing you woke up to gets worse and worse with your vision getting clearer. monochrome palette meets you as it decorates the wall you can view from your position. but a bolder-colored silhouette of something familiar to you in front of you—standing upright and high—caught your attention.

an easel with a canvas and an apparition behind it.

a person, as the shadow lines get harder and rigid…

you observed that your body is resting on what seems to be a white sheet of cloth, like what a photographer has for a backdrop in their studio. you tried to move one of your wrists away from the other—which you identify from the skin-to-skin contact. however, it got restricted by a painfully thick-shaped, rough-textured thing that wrapped both your hands. moist forms from one of your eyes that, along with your cheek and temple, is touching the floor; drops of it sliding down your temple as it produced way too much water from the uncomfortable contact. a source of light is staring right at you, the burn from it forms an invisible heatwave that glides near your face.

“ms. (l/n)…” a voice calls out to you. your hair covering your forehead with your sight mostly obscured, as it doesn’t let you view the source that calls for you. yet, deep beneath your memory, you know the voice. and you don’t want them to come closer, which they did as their shadow covers the light that shines on you.

“you’re finally awake…” now you can see their face. instead of being terrified, your fingers wrapped into your palm, clenching into fists, teeth grinding between each other as the face lets out a smug smile. a smug smile you know has charmed people for years if the information you’ve gotten is true.

“park…” you murmured with your teeth against each other.

“that’s mr. park to you, (y/n). so disrespectful…” he said as his tongue created a click sound in his mouth before leaning away to go back to his canvas.

you tried to calm yourself as your heart pounded inside your chest, not wanting him to notice how you are breathing out of control. lifting your head and torso slightly, you can hear a faint click and clack every time you tried to wiggle—like a fish in need of water. that’s when you look down and see more of your skin than it should be.

the color of the black bra you choose to wear contrasts with the white floor as your shirt buttons are opened and dragged on the floor where you can hear the faint sound of them every time you move.

“what are you doing?” the itchiness of your throat is more prominent as the vocal folds grind on each other to help create your voice. you looked between the man behind the canvas and your exposed torso as you jerk your body, trying to ruin the pose he made you do if he is, what you predicting, painting you. you can see his legs walk to what seems to be a utility cart just outside of your peripheral vision.

your careful yet still frantic movement makes your hair move as you can see park picking something from the top of the cart. looking down to the bottom shelf is where you can see your black cardigan that is folded tidily beside your bag. seeing the covered foot turn its front towards you, you see the shadow of a syringe that he is holding in his hand on the white floor.

“please…”

rambling “no"s coming out of your mouth as he approaches and walks behind you when you can feel a cold rubber texture on your exposed shoulder facing the ceiling and feel something thin penetrate your skin before pulling out. a pinprick. a needle.

as the footsteps walk back to your front, park squats down in front of you, glove-covered hand cupping your jaw to lift it up and see him clearer.

“i like you better when you’re unconscious,” he mumbled as specks of black came into your eyes before it covers them fully.

the next time you woke up, your neck strains as it leans near one of your shoulders. the body is upright as your eyes gain back their focus, quicker than what you felt the first time you were conscious in this room. legs are open wide on a wooden chair and cannot be moved independently as it only makes the legs of the chair scrape the floor. both of your hands are still not free—now bounded behind the chair you sit on. alone in the room when you look down at your body to see yourself in a bra with all of your bottoms still intact.

the first thing that catches your sight is the vulgar monochromatic image stuck onto the wall with no frame around it. you squint your eyes and see the feature of the subject in it as your eyebrows lifted. your gut acts up when you realized who is in that image.

you saw the features of herin in the hanging canvas. eyelids droop as the point of view of the painting came from someone above her. feeling the burn from staring at the strokes of paint, you look away. you cannot bear to see your friend in such a compromising position. fluttering the sting away, you look towards the other walls.

as your eyes wander the room, you see a few more paintings of people you recognize as those whose names are marked in that list in his classroom—both male and female—some you know as they are your classmate for the other courses you take this semester. all of them seem to look intoxicated by the dark shadows that stress their features and expression. all of them are painted monochromatic, using the grisaille method with only black and white paints. the edges of the body and features are soft in some parts but hard in others—especially the eyes, nose, and lips, with the chest and crotch also if they are visible from the point of view of the painter. park’s view.

you gulped down your saliva as you felt something rising from your stomach and also tears threatening to fall, biting your lips to not let them fall if park came back into the room. the sound of thunder above you muffled by the cemented box you are in, a doorway on the side where two other canvases hang on the wall along with herin’s image. faint noise: footsteps sounded on top of wooden material as it echoes to the walls. you know the sound for almost your entire life by knocking on the wooden frame of a canvas, sitting it on your wooden easel, and tapping your brush handle against the easel. but the wooden sound comes with a creak before you can hear a more-rounded sound walking on the floor as the figure you dreaded enters the room.

his smile suggests he knew you might have woken up when he came back. park moves closer and closer as he passes his easel with no canvas. he stands in front of you; imposing; threatening. his hands in his pants’ front pocket, looking at you, condescendingly.

with your teeth gritting, you spoke, “why are you doing this?” your throat is so dry that it sounded so small.

“you’ve seen my collection, i see?” he looks towards the paintings he created hanging on the walls nearest to you. chuckles, he continues, “painters like us don’t have a stable income.” he steps forward.

“painters that aren’t alive won’t see their paintings have any value. remember van gogh?” he stood closer, eyes looking downward towards your body that you aren’t able to cover, slightly folded as his sight on it feels like a laser beam.

“you should remember since i can see the impressionistic elements painted in your school projects.” he tilted his head. “his acclaim came after his death, after all the desperation and depression he faces to create art. cutting his own ear, entering an asylum where he creates his best art pieces…”

“he can see the beauty of his environment from his room. that’s why he made starry night, irise-“

“one extra point for you, ms. (l/n)!” your body flinches as he voiced out loudly before giggling, looking away as he puts back a serious face. “painters have similar objectives: to capture the beauty in something.”

he looks towards the painting of herin with a small frown you noticed from the side, “oh herin… how you have fallen… not the innocent girl i know after you attempted to-“

“she, she did that because of you!” your hoarse voice screams out, a little squeak at the end tells ‘you exerted too much’. however, your brain works in overdrive as you deduct all the pieces in your mind, your head heating up from the fast process, making you have to confront immediately—no matter how aggressive. herin’s attempt, herin’s reluctance towards going to park’s class after being discharged from the hospital, speaking about him, karin and her behavior, and herin’s advice to you. more and more are connecting. creating the path to connect with the strings.

you almost felt like crying when you figured it out.

park’s head turns towards you as he stomps and grabs your jaw with one hand, squeezing the jaw shut as his fingers dig deeper into your cheeks. his freshly cut nails giving a rougher edge as you can feel them scratch the skin on your face.

“you have never been this forward with me, ms. (l/n)(y/n)…” your eyes follow his other hand as he combs your hair. “you have always been submissive towards me, answering my questions. doing your job correctly. like a good girl.”

immediately, another sound of thunder came from above with a sound of a chiming midi bell coming right behind it. you can see that he looks annoyed by the sound as his eyes trail back to you before letting your face go. your cheeks hurt—bruise blooming—because of how hard he presses on them.

“behave!” he walks away towards the doorway and you can hear the wooden creaks before the sound of something slamming, hard. the sound of something like a door that even makes the ceiling of the room shake.

you might be underground, in a basement, but where exactly?

even if you tried to scream for help, your voice will run out even more. so you slumped down, head hanging on the seat as the tears started falling. the joy in figuring out mixing with desperation for someone to notice you are missing is rising and rising, a concoction of tears of emotion flowing out in a free fall. ‘how much time has to pass’, you don’t know. ‘where you are right now’, you don’t know.

oh… yeonjun…

he was there where you last see the outside. you hope he noticed where you’ve gone to…

you look to see the figure of a cart you saw before now with a pitch of water on top of it. looking down on the bottom shelf, you can still see your cardigan and your bag when you notice something protruding out of it as if park put it with too much speed that it makes a mess. the pencil case that you use for school purposes.

wait… do your powers still work?

you closed your wet eyes as you take a deep breath and out, calming yourself down before you open your palm on your tied wrists and tried to do what you have done for nearly a month now. heart beats faster when you feel the air around your being sucked back. you can’t help to open your eyes and seeing how your power works for the first time.

park walks back into the room in an awkward manner; walking backward. feeling the hand back on your jaw, but you didn’t feel as painful as before. all the actions he did, he recreates them unnaturally as you see him walk back towards the doorway. you sever the power with your mind as you can’t help but feel glad to know your power still works. a small smile on your face appears before the sound of the footsteps comes closer.

pretending to be dazed like the rest of the images of your peers’ faces, you ask in a small voice and slow flow, “where am i?”

you’ve tried the harsh act by openly rejecting him and he behaves scarily toward you. what if you pretend to be like the innocent ones he likes? like you every time you are in his class?

“you don’t get to know, ms. (l/n),” he replied softly, almost like the tone he uses to teach his class.

“how long am i here?”

“that is also not an answer i can give you.”

you let out a sigh as your eyes wander all along the room, pretending to see the room for the first time. that’s when you just first saw the sofa across from you, a white sofa in a black and white setting that is similar to the painting he made in this very room. the sofa where canvases lay facing upward, too far for you to see what is on there.

“why me?” you asked softly, something you intended to ask after the first wave of interaction.

you can hear him step forward as he looks at you from his position that is standing tall. your eyes meeting his as it looks like he is letting himself wander your body, but your eyelids have to be drooped to look like the substance he uses on you still drugged you out.

“well, (y/n)…” he lets out a sigh before looking towards the walls around the two of you. “do you notice any similarity between you and my other subjects?”

your eyes turn towards herin in her compromising position. “herin…”

“your friend, right? there are similarities between you and her.” your eyes return towards park as he looks at you with a flat face but because of the charisma everyone talked about, a small tug on his lips earns an extra charm that could swoon people, except you.

“you and all of my subjects, muses, here resemble the color white. shy, pure, innocent. someone who enters the world of adults by themselves, yet still looks as clueless as ever.” his eyes wander throughout the room. the sound of the thunder rumbles exactly above you a few layers from the sky.

“i have a thing with black and white, monochromes in general. though you probably don’t see because you are either too focused on your book or sleeping in class.” he lets out a short but gentle cackle before he turns his head towards you.

“the idea of corrupting someone as pure as you and my other muses is interesting. to know what all of you can do if you just got a pushed towards the black side, tainting your color from white to light gray and slowly getting darker and darker.” he gives a smirk that makes your breath hitch.

he likes to play with the idea of corrupting innocence and purity… using the grisaille method to paint what you have finally realized is a few of the most introverted people in your year, in a solicitous way according to his liking.

“i’m not that innocent though, mr. park,” you mumbled out as park’s smirk fell before turning to walk to the sofa.

i’ve kissed someone before.

i’ve had sex before.

i’ve smoked a cigarette before.

i’ve drunk alcohol before

that was your follow-up when you hear an “i know” from him as you tried to speak. that’s when you can see the canvases on the sofa as he moves them up.

paintings of you in the same compromising position as the others. the canvas as large as the one on the wall paints the image of you lying down on your side on the floor the first time you woke up. another one is of you laying on the floor, your shirt falling down the side of your shoulder. another is the one on the chair with only your bra on your torso. another is of you sitting down leaning against the wall with your shirt covering you but still giving a peak of what’s under it. but, the small square one is the weird one.

your eyes widen as park proudly shows you that small painting. the lips that you know are your own with a thumb pressed on the bottom lip.

“this is not an innocent look, (y/n). i’m here to shed the white away and let you enter the gray.” he walks behind the sofa towards a desk where you see a dark gray cabinet with binder spines facing outwards. showing years upon years of this operation.

“this painting of you,” he looks down towards the canvas before looking back to you, “is now in my secret stash that i will never sell to anyone.”

immediately, another sound of thunder came from above with a sound of a chiming midi bell coming right behind it. you can see that he looks annoyed by the sound as his eyes trail back to you before giving a shushing pose as he walks to the doorway, while you still act as drowsy as possible.

hearing the sound of the wooden creak, you braced for the door to slam shut. eyes already closed as you want to close off as shock as possible.

you hear nothing…

instead, a sound of someone speaking park’s full name. faintly, but enough because it seems that it hasn’t rained yet with all the thunders.

“is this the right house? your house?” a stranger’s voice sounded.

“yes, it is. thank you for your service.” park’s voice echoes more and louder than it seems, meaning that he is closer to the door from where you are to the front door of the house.

his house.

jackpot.

you felt overwhelmed by how you’ve done this so well as tears threatened to fall. not because of fear, but because of joy. you hear the door above you faintly close as you looked at your lap, shutting your eyes to let the tears stop so he won’t suspect anything.

it stops as he enters the room, your head hanging to face the lap as you hear the sound of a bag being placed somewhere in the room. hair covering your face because of your position. you can’t see him approaching until you feel your head being lifted by your jaw, softer than the previous iteration.

park sees your eyes glistening and with the light, making them glitter as his thumb sits on your chin, slowly climbing up and you feel it touch your bottom lip. all you can do is hold your breath and let out as small as possible. he presses the thumb on your bottom lip.

“suck…” he murmured and you can’t help but comply. pressing your top lip lightly on park’s thumb reminds you of you doing it to yeonjun. your eyebrows creased as you thought about your boy, how you’re scared that you won’t see him, what he would think if he saw you like this. how you can only think about him in this situation, sucking his thumb instead like last time because you want to.

“don’t furrow your eyebrows.” park lightly complains as he puts his other thumb to relax the muscles between your eyebrows. that’s when you look back to the cart with the pitcher and your belongings.

slowly letting go of his thumb, you muttered, “i’m thirsty,” to him as your eyes return to the water pitchers.

he looks to where you look as he walks towards it and drags it in front of you. you looked down at your lap, pretending your sight to be on your lap, but your eyes focused on your bag and your pencil case.

feeling the cold sensation, you gulped down as many as you can as you don’t know when are you able to drink again. that’s when the sound of a ringtone plays in a dull room. park returns the glass on the cart as he walks toward the phone and answers.

“hello… yeah… my voice is cutting off..? fuck wait, i’ll go outside…” the footsteps walk away and away as you can hear the sound of the door closing, cutting a harsh voice of rain pouring down. your eyes quickly move toward where the cart is.

using your whole body weight, you drag yourself and the chair you sit on closer so you can drag the strap of the bag and make the pencil case or bag pull out of the cart. though not knowing what your clear game plan is, at least you try. your pencil case is full of needed items in class, which includes a cutter though you don’t know how you’re going to reach it with your bounded hands.

your foot, although also bound to one leg of the chair, reaches the edge of the cart as you try to move it closer to you. your toes can get a grip of the bag and pull it and the sound of a thud hitting the floor is soft as you hope that park hasn’t come back and question what you are.

unfortunately, your pencil case didn’t come out from the bag when you pull it, but something got pulled out instead from the front pocket of your bag. that’s when you can see the tissue with something written on it that can save you.

yeonjun’s twin flame; in your handwriting.

that could work. no, that can work.

you focused all your might on the writing, eyes blurry because of the amount of moisture it has inside, but you chase a voice that you recognize is yeonjun’s as it comes closer and closer.

“we are twin flames… that sounds… intriguing.”

“more than lovers.”

you closed your eyes.

you looked down to see the tissue with your handwriting sitting on top of your thigh. the marker in your hand barely lifted from the sheet. you hear yeonjun’s voice beside you, as you remember it to be.

“putting this in my wallet so that i can remember,” he mumbles to himself as he opens his wallet and put it inside. you give a small glance at him before following his action as smoothly as possible, putting it in the pocket of your bag that it will come out from when you need it later. put the bag back to the place you pick it up, you turn your head towards the scene that was supposed to be in front of you.

the world looks different like this, especially since this is a recent memory that just happens a week ago. the edges of the vacuum you are in cut the sky and the top of the lighthouse beside you. a blur of color you recognize as your cat’s fur moving around at rapid speed, a brushstroke of paint following behind her everywhere she moves. you cannot view nature beyond the front of yeonjun’s truck which was supposed to be a forest. you look down at the edge of the beach that is visible, none of the buildings are when you train your eyes to meet the color blending into white.

“speaking off…” he suddenly speaks as you turn back to watch him pull out a flimsy paper that he opens and pushes towards you. the drawing you finished right before the moment yeonjun’s mom left the house. the drawing that first helped you able to do this specific ability.

“thought you might wanna have it.” you gently pulled the paper from him and observed the tree, looking back at your art style in its infancy. how this paper can also help you get to meet soobin in real life, giving much more clarity to what you are facing with his own war story and sacrifice.

“when i looked at the date, sometimes i wonder what will happen if what happened with mom didn’t happen.” yeonjun mumbles, you let out a timid smile since you recognize how he will continue his talk.

“and since your time abilities don’t include time travel, we might not know. but well, what happened happens so here we are.” he continues as he looks to see the sun now more than halfway down being swollen by the sea. however, you gaze towards him before the vacuum stops as your surroundings turn black and white.

your hands are not restricted as you can move in the vacuum while the others stopped mid-activity. pansy looks like she’s floating as she jumps before it stops, the edges of yeonjun’s lips form a small smile, and you are trying to think of the right way to do it so he knows where you are in the future.

this is your shot to give you back your safety.

this is your shot to give back your freedom.

though this slight change will change everything, you sacrifice yourself for this to happen. you know you have to make this a big deal for him to know how he will get you; because it is the only way to help you.

you cannot openly tell him, you have to be subtle. all he needs to do is try to remember this small detail so he can ask authorities for help.

and you are ready to sacrifice your identity because of this. because you know, if they come, you will be tied to the investigation.

you extend your hand and open your palm, see the monochromatic colors blur and you go back to the start where you finished writing.

“putting this in my wallet so that i can remember,” he mumbles to himself as he opens his wallet and put it inside. while you follow him, putting it in the pocket in your bag as naturally as possible.

please let this work…

“speaking off…” he suddenly speaks as you turn back to watch him pull out a flimsy paper that he opens and pushes towards you.

“oops!” you pretend to feel the vibration of your phone as you pull it out and put the screen to your face, as close as possible so yeonjun can’t take a peek.

“it’s from park…” you sighed disappointedly.

“that lecturer you and herin said is fucking weird?” he replies nonchalantly.

“yeah… i have this contest coming up and have given my entry to him as he is the coordinator for the institute.” your eyes pretend to move to the blank lock screen of your phone without not notifications on, fake skimming the massage. “it says that if we won, we will meet up somewhere before going to his house to talk about the logistics of it.” you tried to sound as convincing as possible.

please let this work…

“i have the feeling you’re gonna win. you’re the most amazing painter i know.” yeonjun openly remarks as you look back at him. that’s when you see the drawing on his hands.

“thought you might wanna have it. a nostalgic piece for you to see your evolution from this to that winning painting for the contest, which i sure hope you win.” you take the drawing from him and give it a look. a small smile forms as you have successfully communicated your subtle message to him.

“when i looked at the date, sometimes i wonder what will happen if what happened with mom didn’t happen.” yeonjun mumbles.

but, you glance towards him, mumbling something different that can help him enough.

“your mom will be proud. just like she is right now looking down on us.”

the white consumed you from the small and subtle change you made in the past and you arrived back in the room, still alone in a room full of your peers painted erotically. you hoped what you’ve done works as closely as you thought about in your mind. sober enough from the lightheadedness of time travel, you scan the room from where you sit—no obvious changes are visible. biting your lips to concentrate, you try to rub the rope on the edge of the chair, a plan b of sorts if your first plan is not working, but it’s not. thunder rumbles from above before it created no more noise. your head hangs as it faced your thighs from where you can sense tingling coming.

you sit on the chair in silence.

so quiet.

so empty.

…

thud!

a sound of the door crashing to the wall as you can hear multiple footsteps above you and the creaking wooden floorboards creak multiple times. your head slightly lifted as the footsteps come closer and closer at a slow pace, hearing them dragging across the floor. two figures, a man and a woman, enter the room as they study the cabinet and walls. a low gasp coming from one of them before you glance at them, turning their heads to view the room before you. you let your breath out in the most freeing way possible given your circumstances.

“we found her.” the man said into his walkie-talkie.

the woman in the uniform dash toward your behind. the chair shakes as your wrist feels looser, and your muscles strain when they hold them in place before the rope falls from it. she walks in front of you and kneels, seeing the sleeve of your cardigan fall from the shelf of the cart near your fallen bag. the woman covers your front with your cardigan and helps you put your arms into the sleeve so you wear it backward. using the pocket knife she has, the woman cuts loose the rope on both of your ankles while the man stares at the images hanging from the wall. you notice how his eyebrows furrowed.

“are you okay?” the woman who is kneeling in front of you asks. you look down, seeing the tissue beneath the woman’s shadow.

“i-i don’t know. i was unconscious most of the time.” you voiced out.

the woman stood up and walk to your exposed shoulders from the cardigan. looking closely, touching your skin with a gentle touch as she said, “puncture wound.” before looking towards your neck, a darkened strip of skin was visible.

“we have to get her out. this is…” the man sighed, “this is awful…”

the woman gives a warm smile as she helps you stand. as the man walks in front of you to escort you and his partner, your legs wobble from the numbness. you can finally see the room more as you walk by, the doorway leads to a normal-looking basement full of storage for old items and maintenance. climbing up the creaking wood floor that is the stairs, the basement door opens to pitter-patter noises. you land on the ground floor of the house, giving a slight glance at the hallway between the basement door and the front door. you are met with a light shower of rain falling down the sky, a few more officers, and familiar faces near the police cars.

“oh my gosh, (y/n).” minjeong’s voice calls your name as yeonjun lift his head, seeing you being escorted by the officers out of the front door and patio. he ran out from the umbrella he hold on to with minjeong, eyes widening. he can’t hold back. the rain falls onto his figure when he approaches you. when the sight of a figure you recognize comes into your view, your limp legs dragged you to yeonjun’s arms as he wraps them around your fragile body. you can hear the sobs as he puts his head against your cardigan-covered shoulder. he lifts his head and lets his forehead meet yours.

“i found you.” yeonjun mumbled, his hand caressing your wet cheeks from the rain, fighting the cold of it. “i was so scared i couldn’t find you.” you raised your hands to give a rub on both of his cheekbones with your thumb. you can’t believe both of you did it.

he remembered.

yeonjun leans his cheek into one of your palms as his other arm meets the surface of your skin from the exposed back, making him open his eyes. seeing him frown, your thumb moves to the edge of his lip, giving a small tug as it curves beautifully into the smirk that you’ve memorized.

“i thought i lose you.”

“you’ll never lose me.”

you felt the tap on your upper arm as the officer that escorted you show you a small blanket to help cover your back.

“she has wounds on her…” yeonjun leans back as his eyes trail down your face and exposed neck, seeing the wounds. he gives a small pout before letting you go as the officer wraps the blanket properly around your back and rested on your shoulders. ruckus starts behind you as you take a peek to see park being escorted by more officers, hands cuffed behind him as he looks at you and your friends in the rain.

“herin…” you hear him speak as he walks past you. herin looks at him sternly as they brought him to the police car. you walk towards your friends when you see karin at the side of herin, a blank look on her face before blinking to gaze somewhere else other than you. the police got out the yellow tapes, along with the blinking red and blue light contrast with the color of the grey sky.

yeonjun follows you to sit next to you in the police car as they brought you to the hospital. your face pressed into his warm chest though wet from the rain. you look at his face, a frown formed on his face before he looked down at you and it disappeared almost instantly, his hands around you.

“tell me everything. how you found me.”

“well…” he starts to talk about his story...

yeonjun lifted his head as he kneels in front of the bench where he last saw you. the park is quiet as no other people arrive like what you told him in the venue. he knows they have tricked you into being in this very place, but he can’t figure out how he will find you if your kidnapper leaves your phone behind.

“fuck!” he slams his fist down the wooden bench, feeling like a failure. he felt like one before when his mom passed away. he feels like one now when you disappear out of his sight. just a few seconds he took his eyes off of you and you’re gone. his breathing is quick as he stood up from the ground, turning around to slump down onto the bench. his hand rubs both of his cheeks to see the tears coming from his eyes has a speck of black from his eyeliner that you help him wear earlier in the day. your phone clutched in his hands, he rested his head against the arms that are supported by his exposed knees from his jeans.

he can’t let you go like this. he remembers you spoke to him that you’re not going anywhere when he talked to you about soobin. he suffered enough and can appreciate that you won’t also let him go that easily, being his support system like he hopes he is to you. his mind is scrambling out of the place like his brain just spills out of his skull. looking down at your lit-up phone, he wishes he could open but you never gave him your passcode, and vice versa.

that’s when he received an epiphany.

some memory of his of something you outright said to him that day at the lighthouse while looking towards the sunset.

“‘said that if we won… we will meet up somewhere… then go to his house…’ “ he mumbles out, only remembering those specific words. the lightbulb shines instantly on the last few words as he mumbles those words again and again and again.

his house.

park’s house.

“park’s house!” he said out loud as he stood up and run to the place where people he knew could help him. his truck left alone by the pavement, feet taking him to go through shortcuts he memorized as he arrived at your hall, sneakily walking in like the time he visited you with a bruised face. he remembers your floor clearly and when he arrives at your door, he didn’t go towards it but the one opposite it and knocks on the door.

a faint click enters yeonjun’s ears as he sees minjeong in casual attire. “yeonjun? what- “

“let me in!” he whisper-yell, pushing the door and minjeong herself into her room without 100% of his energy as he turns towards her. minjeong closes the door so the resident assistant won’t catch a guy entering her room.

“what are you doing here? where’s (y/n)? isn’t she wi- wait.” she pauses as yeonjun takes his breaths in to calm himself down, the door close behind her as she looks up at the much taller yeonjun from her height.

“you cried?” minjeong asked as yeonjun nodded, taking huge amounts of air to stabilize his breathing. she can see mixed emotions surfacing on his features as she looks confused at him.

“(y/n)’s not here and i’m going to tell you what happened. think of this like the meeting we have in the diner.”

“oh no…” herin mumbles out as the three sit on the floor of minjeong’s room, yeonjun finished telling them everything surrounding your disappearance. when minjeong heard the word (y/n) and park in the same sentence, she pauses yeonjun's talk to dial herin on her phone. the boy listens to her asking if she can come and meet the two of you, giving a glimpse of the bombshell, and the call continues until the girl arrives at your location.

the two girls’ expressions get grimmer every time yeonjun spoke more and more. the last specks of seconds when he didn’t see you, how you were gone, why you are there in the first place, and his realization of what you said before. minjeong looked towards herin as she heard him finish speaking, herin’s eyes looking towards the boy before looking at her crossed legs. the night sky outside the window paints the wall beside him as minjeong’s night light becomes a dim beacon in the room. herin sighs as her shoulders slump. minjeong notice the change, dragging her butt towards herin and wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulder.

“i…” herin whispered, “i know what he’s doing… to her…” yeonjun took a glance at herin, peering at her cowering body.

“the things that i faced, that she is facing right now.” she gulps… “being subjected to model for his painting in inappropriate ways. as much as i want to, i couldn’t report him. i’ll get blackmailed by him. people would think this will be fake knowing his good reputation. he would tell people that everyone he has ever painted has consented, but it’s not the reality…” minjeong’s hand smoothes down along herin’s back, sniffles coming from her.

“herin, you don’t have to answer, but is it plausible that she’s at his house?” yeonjun’s eyebrows furrowed as he scoots closer to her but still gives space.

“i- maybe? i don’t know. i’ve been there twice and i don’t know specifically where…” herin shook her head before dabbing her face, swallowing her saliva to calm down. “but, the second time when he picks me up, drunk at the time and very much dazed, i remember he drove me to a neighborhood before passing out so i think it’s plausible she’s there…” herin then described the things that she can remember. a white room with specks of black. park’s face near to hers, his touches on her body.

��we have to get her out.” yeonjun mumbled as he looked at the two girls, not expecting the nods herin makes.

“he has done too much…” she whispered, looking towards minjeong.

“we don’t know where his house is though…” minjeong looks between the two. all three of them, she included, care about you, care about each other. together because of you.

“i know who does.” yeonjun lifts his head when herin voices out, giving a nod to the two as a look of recognition appears in their eyes. they all spoke in unison.

“karin.”

the sound of an alarm wakes yeonjun from his slumber, his back hurting from the uncomfortable position he slept in, leaning back against minjeong’s bed frame where she slept while herin sleeps on the other duvet minjeong lent lying on the floor. the sun doesn’t shine as much as he thought today when he looks outside the window. light grey clouds cover the blue. the weather is cooler than the days before.

yeonjun stands up and stretches his body, walking towards the window as he looks outside. people walking down paths to their class or any agenda they have today. everything seems normal, but not for them and you. he looks at the walls in minjeong’s room, seeing paintings he recognized made by you on the wall. your usual style of ocean and flowers give a sense of comfort to him, the experimental ones like a close-up look of a person’s hands playing the violin convey a sense of adrenaline with just a small glance of it. the blaring noise stops as he sees minjeong’s sleepy face looking at her phone before at yeonjun who is across the room.

“you scared the crap out of me.” minjeong small gasp earns a chuckle from yeonjun, giving a faint apology as herin sits up on her makeshift bed to peer between the two.

“we should find her as soon as possible…” herin said as they all agree. the two girls scrambled up to prep themselves, pushing yeonjun out of the room as he also needed to refresh himself.

he finds a bathroom on the man’s floor and lets out a short laugh after seeing the tiles on the wall full of scribbles of childish remarks and brief messages of party reminders or some debt someone has. yeonjun walks to the counter with the sinks and mirror to see the smudge clouds forming around his eyes from his eyeliner, looking as grungy as he likes it to be, but crusty because he wears it overnight. the swelling from the cry fest is clear and a few dried tears left a trail down his cheeks. he opens the tap and lets his palms wet before nuzzling them on his face, avoiding his eyes as he still likes how he looks no matter how messy. the mirror reflecting the gaze of determination surfacing from his heart as he felt more refreshed than ever.

yeonjun has to find you, just like how you two find each other after many years apart.

the boy walks behind the two as they enter another residential hall that herin knows karin lives in—courtesy of them being in the same group project back in the first year. he sees the boys he has seen before at parties he went to, giving him a nod or a wink as they tease him for being there with two girls. yeonjun rolled his eyes before following them, climbing up the stairs and walking to the hallway, stopping when he can see the name ‘yoo karin' on the board beside the door.

minjeong lifts her hand and knocks on the door, hearing a ramble on the other side before the door opens. “i told you, elle, you don’t have to-”

“hi.” herin prompted the conversation as the girls stood by the door. yeonjun just stands in the middle of the hallway, inclining his head at the girl who is drying her hair.

“herin! minjeong! what a surprise? and you are…”

“not someone that matters to you.” yeonjun replied, his arms folded in front of the torso. karin gives squinting eyes at him before looking away.

“any special occasion for you to come here, hmm?” karin looks towards minjeong and herin, chin up as she continues drying her hair.

“(y/n) is missing.” minjeong cut to the chase.

“and? what is it have to do with m-“

“we think that your favorite lecturer might have her. well, no.” yeonjun takes a step forward as he arrives at the center between his friends. “we know your favorite lecturer has her.”

karin scoffed, “oh yeah… (y/n) that is sleeping with him to get her scores up. that fucking whore-”

“don’t fucking call her a whore.” yeonjun’s growl makes minjeong turns her head at him, scrunching her face to tell him to stop confronting more.

“i- you know that we don’t have the best history.” another voice spoke.

herin tried to continue to speak as karin cuts, “yeah, you also just sleep with him like (y/n) does.”

“i know that you like him, love him really.” herin cuts right back in after a huge sigh, karin’s sour face turns blank as if herin finds the right nerve to get her. “i have stories that you have to know about him. why? because you don’t know shit about me or any other people you harass just because you justify that we slept with him!” herin’s soft voice creates a booming atmosphere between the four of them, loud enough so she can feel the rage but quiet enough to know to get more people to hear.

“you don’t know anything i faced—that (y/n) is facing right now—because you’re so lovestruck.” herin’s voice trembles as she looked away, looking down at the faint scars on her wrist that she has compressed with an ice cube to knock the thought of making new ones.

“so please, for (y/n)’s sake. we don’t want much, but we just want to know do you know where park lives?” herin’s body crumbles as minjeong holds her up. karin looks between the three of them as yeonjun looks to the window of the hallway to see the sky getting darker from the gray.

“please…” he can hear minjeong’s voice as he turns his face back. karin gives a small eye roll before scoffing.

“fine. yes, i do.” smile forms on minjeong’s face before karin added, “why should i trust that what you say is true, herin?” she looks at the girl whose name was spoken.

“you can come with us when we informed the police.” yeonjun stated as all the girls looked toward him. “we cannot bust him ourselves if what herin said is true.”

"yeah, that's it." yeonjun finished.

you blinked your eyes as you felt the car stop, looking outside to see the entrance of the emergency room.

the next few days went on in a blur. at the hospital, your wounds are treated and you get a toxin report from the drug that is in your system. the two officers who found you interview you about what you have known, before and during your abduction. you reference herin a lot as the officers also get an account from her as she is also a victim here, her image on the wall. the administrators of the institute react shockingly to the investigation, knowing on the surface what kind of person park is on campus. but when more students being victims of his comes out, along with the evidence of the paintings found in the room and proof of him selling things on the black market, scrutinization came for park from all over the place, and even the news reached the locals of haeyang and outside of the town as well.

you video call your parents with yeonjun as you get discharged from the hospital days later. all the processes for your wounds are added into evidence and are healing. yeonjun’s appearance on the screen shocks your parents as they look at the two of you together, telling them about more details that they heard from the horrible news and your own account of it. your dad state that they will visit you in haeyang next week before ending the call when yeonjun brought back to your hall in his truck. pansy’s soft meows comforts you as she nuzzles her head into your hand, your bandage from the iv just near it.

eyes are on you—or not out of respect—when you walk down the path to your hall, letting you tug closer into yeonjun’s side as he puts his hand on your lower back. minjeong’s tight smile greets you as you met her at the front of the hall, holding onto the violin case for her concert overmorrow.

overmorrow is exactly one month since you got your powers. the day that the blizzard should happen. and it scared you it would because the weather has been colder lately.

hearing minjeong’s violin sing from the layers of wall between the two of you, you rest your head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling after arriving back from class. your lecturers look sorry for you and your classmates who are victims of park’s doings, but you determined yourself that you are stronger than that when you denied having a week off from class to cope and heal. karin, elle, and yizhuo don’t ramble and throw their paper balls at others anymore or for the time being. every time you caught karin looking at you, she immediately looks away. you also get a confirmation that you indeed won the art contest with a few other students in the institute and get to see your painting in the gallery, inviting you to the opening of it two days after the violin concert.

as the day of it comes, anxiousness appears right at the edge of your thoughts and creeps in as time passes.

you look at yourself in the mirror, shirt underneath a vest with tweed pants and loafers to complete your look, always tidying them so you look as perfect as possible. the envelope with the two tickets minjeong gave to you is on the table beside your sketchbook. picking them up along with your bag, you walk out of your room and lock the door before going down the stairs. a few people give a small greeting as you reply with timid nods. when you look outside, you see a boy’s backside looking away from you.

“jun?” you called out.

he turns around and a smirk on his face. he is wearing a white jumper that covers his tattoos, black straight jeans, and a black blazer he is holding onto with his hands. “hi!”

you give a small peck near his lips as he looks at your outfit before bringing a frown, “why the short sleeves shirt?” he nags as he puts his blazer on your shoulder.

“ah. it’s okay, it’s not even 3 pm yet…” you tug the blazer off and hold it in your hand as you grab his own and walk to the auditorium. shivers you got from a sudden gush are not too overt as you take them under your control.

sitting down in the seat not too far and not too near to the stage so you can see the view of the orchestra’s seating arrangement, yeonjun has teased the heck out of you by tickling you as you tried to shut him up. you see herin approaching your seat as you gave her a wave, arriving later because she brought the bouquet the three of you plan to give to minjeong after the concert. the lights in the auditorium dim as the orchestra come into the room and tune their instruments before two of your violinist peers play their pieces, it is a violin concert after all.

you remembered what minjeong told you, she will perform last out of the students after the intermezzo, tchaikovsky’s violin concerto in d major. you enter back into the room from getting a beverage and a snack the last out of the three of you, peeking out the window for the last time as if you’ll see first the anomaly of the first snow from the blizzard. you sit on your seat as the light dims and you can see minjeong looking as beautiful as ever walking on the stage. the conductor moves their baton as the orchestra plays the instrumentals you’ve heard multiple times in real life rather than from the speaker that came from minjeong’s room.

as she plays the first few bars, you held your breath as you see your best friend play her part beautifully. the right time to staccato and the right time for the glissando—from the number of times you listen to her play. as the solo violin part is playing, the orchestra creates the harmony that plays along with her melody. your arms on both armrests as you listen to the sound of minjeong playing dynamically and calling into your soul. yet you never felt this agitated before while listening to her play, your chest starts to rise and fall at an unsteady pace.

something cold touches your hand and you turn your head to see white and blue covering your vision. a corpse of a building you are in now, the ceiling collapsed as the cold sky greets you, flutters of snow falling and landing on your body. you shook your head as you can hear a faint cry of a violin from the empty stage in front of you, fading away.

this is not happening.

(y/n).

you open your eyes as your breathing is rapid, seeing yeonjun’s worried eyes in front of yours where his hand embraces your cheek, the other is on your hand.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” you see his mouth move, ringing sound in your ears slowly faded as the violin plays, fighting away your fear and worry. you move your hand that he holds so he can intertwine it with yours, fingers locking with each other, the tattoo nearest to his wrist visible.

the concerto moves between fast to slow to fast pace between each movement as you focus on how your friend beautifully does the techniques that even sound very complicated only from hearing it. yeonjun’s hand still holds on to yours as he sometimes leans in and gives a small whisper about how good your friend is. some banter so he can distract you before your mind moves to another place again. the cold of the air-conditioned room isn’t helping but with you focusing on the fiery performance and the boy’s warmth beside you, it does help. you don’t expect yeonjun to be so settled watching a classical concert. you predicted he was out of his element, but with the look that he is wearing today and his demeanor, he looks elegant.

as minjeong finishes her piece and you listen to another piece played by one of minjeong’s lecturers, the crowd gives a standing occasion as all the performers step onto the stage and give a bow along with the orchestras. the lights go bright as the performers hug each other. you grab the bouquet that is on the chair as you walk to the aisle and closer to the stage. minjeong who is on it looks down to see you, yeonjun, and herin near the stairs down the stage. minjeong climbs down as she sees the bouquet you hold.

“this is from the three of us.” you give it to her as she rubs a tear that rolls down her eyes before giving you three a hug. the four of you talk about the meaning of the yellow rose bouquet you professionally pick from your expertise and meet the other performers. yet, all of you do not know a woman is looking at you, especially at yeonjun, her ‘son’.

“minjeong.” the elegant voice you’ve heard before talking to your friends, your head turns to see yeonjun’s stepmom give a light hug to her student. “you were great.”

“thank you, mrs. choi.” minjeong’s voice muttered as the woman turns towards you and yeonjun.

“so nice to see you again, (y/n).” she calls to you as you give a slight bow before looking at the boy who stood beside you. “yeonjun…”

“hello,” he says with a calm attitude toward his father’s wife.

“i don’t expect you to be here knowing what kind of music you hear.” she gives a nudge first as you look back to yeonjun, giving a hand for him to hold as you caress it with your thumb.

“just here supporting a friend.” yeonjun tilts his head to minjeong as herin whispers to her, asking about the two’s relationship.

“you haven’t gone back home in a few days now…” you turn your head towards yeonjun as your eyebrows furrow. you haven’t heard that from him before.

“didn’t you hear from dad that i moved out?” what?

“you did, huh? i have to reconfirm with your father.” you look back to the woman, seeing a small tug on her lips. “i’ll be talking with you again, ms. kim.” minjeong gives a nod and a smile as mrs. choi moves away before you looked at him, bewildered, shaking your head at the unbelievable shocking news.

“can, can we talk about you moving out?” you walk to the backside of the truck, the small takeaway paper bag from ms. ahn’s diner embraced in your hands while yeonjun opens the tailgate of his pickup. you look up at the lighthouse that stood tall beside you two and haeyang down from the cliff.

“well ‘moved out’ 'cause none of my belongings are at my dad’s house anymore.”

“where?” you sat on the open backside, putting the bag full of food you order right in the middle between the two of you.

“you know.” he puts his blazer beside him and sits next to you, grabbing one of the strawberry donuts you bought.

you turn your head towards him in an instant, eyes widening and a smile forming, “no way?!”

“yes way. i finished putting my stuff in the house like yesterday. still don’t have the time to tidy them out, though.” yeonjun lets out a giggle as you just realized what he said. that he moved away to the house, his house, your and soobin’s previous home.

“but what about the water? the electricity? the tax?”

“i’m learning how to handle them. my dad has a friend who works in town and helps with those letters and certificates. i worked with dad behind his wife’s back since he’s the one that knew of soobin and our relationship. he’ll help with the water and electricity for a few months until i get a stable income, teaching me about those adulting kinds of stuff that you have to learn by yourself and not from school.” he reassured you, one side of his cheek is full of donut as you give a small nod before your body shivers from the wind’s blow. yeonjun rubs the crumbs away before grabbing something beside him.

“no, you don’t have to,” you said as yeonjun leans his blazer towards you.

“come on!” he elongated the syllable. “you’re gonna catch a cold.”

you reluctantly agree and grab the blazer to drape them in front of you. the cold wind is attacking you from all over the place as a small flash came into your view. the flash of the blizzard you saw back in the concert, the sky is full-on white, and haeyang from your view is non-existent because of the snow. it stayed for a few seconds before it’s gone and back to normal.

“when the day of your vision comes,” min spoke when you come to their store to get some clarity of what your, soobin’s, and their powers also how they worked. “it can only occur between the daytime, from sunrise until sunset. your power will also be gone as the sun goes.” you stare at them rubbing their hands on the counter you lean against to listen, yeonjun’s small shrieks are muffled as he plays with pansy outside of the store barricaded from the glass door.

“as the day ends and if your vision became a reality before the sun leaves, it means that your powers don’t exist anymore to help you through the disaster.”

the blizzard was supposed to happen today when the sun is still shining. you remembered the white sky covered by the gust of snow flying all over as they cover the warm and yellow tint from the sun, paranoid if this will happened or not. the sun setting is the justification that it will not happen, but the sudden cold wind just makes you anxious all over even though you are currently looking at the descent.

“today’s the day…” you muttered. yeonjun hums beside you as he sees you looking at the crashing ocean on the beach. you can even recall the memory of yours sitting on that exact beach with soobin on the other timeline.

“the blizzard should happen today.” you open your palms. your powers won’t save you anymore. you recall min saying that you will pass out as the sun sets when the powers disappeared from you. then you have to wake up to see if the thing you vision happens or not. a quick yet small trigger in frames of time might cause everything and your own sense of time won’t help you.

yet, you still don’t find a clear thread on what you get from this. you sacrifice your identity and safety for your freedom and justice, but is it enough?

“if a blizzard happens. i won’t be able to use my powers anymore.” you turn towards yeonjun, feeling an electric wave only you can feel between your fingers. a surge of desire to rewind if you just needed more time to not make this happen came into your mind.

but you don’t. you’re satisfied with whatever outcome is happening.

“i need to tell you the truth…” you mumbled at yeonjun who is resting his hands behind him to hold him steady. “that epiphany you got when you realized i told you a clue about my whereabouts. that was me traveling back in time to implant that so you can find me.”

you shake your head, “i was not supposed to be found. but i sacrifice my exposure for this.” you see yeonjun’s eyebrows furrowed. “if i don't have my power, i won't be here with you. you’re supposed to die that day when you first meet me again.” tears form from your ducts.

“if the blizzard happened and everyone i’ve met died because of me. i just-” you moved the food away to your other side as you scoot closer to yeonjun. “i just know that i’m happy that i could spend just one more month with you beside me.” you sniffle your nose as they’re getting runny.

“every time i use my power, i use them for you, for herin. not myself,” you let out a chuckle. “every time that i thought you could get a critical injury, i turn back time. the story of your mom and soobin and the other timeline…” you took a glance at him, “i did it not for my curiosity first, but for yours because you told me you want to know.” you let out a sigh as you see the sun slowly moving down the horizon, a third near a half are swallowed. your hands gripping the blazer covering you as you felt a tear stray away.

this is it.

you view the edge of the fiery ball that touches the surface of the ocean.

a hand comes to grasp yours as another comes to cup your cheek, turning it to show your boy looking at you.

“you’re the most selfless person i know. i…” he nodded his head. “i believe everything you said to me and i believe that whatever choice you made with that power of yours is the one that is right for you.” you study his face, seeing his hair shift from the wind, the jumper he’s wearing thick enough to combat the cold even though he rolls up his right arm full of tattoos.

“if what you envisioned happens. i want to say that even if you don’t have the power to give me a crucial piece of information, i will always find you.” yeonjun rubs his thumb on your skin, “i will always chase after you. heck, i might chase you to the city to find you.” you both giggle from that, you rub your runny nose from the tissue ms. ahn gave.

“i just know that i love you.”

your eyebrows raised as your mouth gapes, “you don’t mean it- “

“love comes in different shapes and sizes. familial love like what my biological parents have for me. brotherly and friendship love like me to soobin with something more. my love towards chris cornell, kurt cobain, eddie vedder, and any grunge artist out there and their art. my love towards pansy who i treat like my own child.” yeonjun holds you in eye contact, “and my love for you, romantically, sensually. our twin flames connection that just makes me trust that the love we have is the purest of them all.”

you glance towards the sun as only a third remains above the horizon. you let out the widest smile you could give to him, and a giggle erupts just by the shape of your lips as you scoot closer. hands reaching for his cheeks, meeting the warmth exuding from him. his head curls into your touch as he brushes your hair away because of the wind. meeting your forehead with his own, you gaze at his loving smile before he leans in and connects your lips. you feel lightheaded as all you can focus on is him. you both pressed hard to show your affection for each other.

a glimmer came into your eyes as you open them and the lightheaded transforms into heavy as you can only see a small edge of the sun visible. you move your arms to fold around his back, resting your head against his shoulder. the warm wrapping around the two of you as yeonjun embraces you as tight as he can, giving a peck to your head. you look up to see the beam of the lighthouse getting clearer in the purple sky, looking back towards the sun as it gives you the last goodbye.

“i love you too, yeonjun.”

you said as clearly as you can before closing your eyes, the power dissipates from your fingertips.

an image of a painting hanging in front of a white wall. the painting of a view of a canvas, easel, and window in an inception type of way. the canvas sketched in the canvas painted a normal view of a room and window, the warm tone of it covers the whole canvas on the picture. while the room and window behind said canvas is painted with a cold tone. a speck of white reflecting the snow in the window while grey colors change the warm tone of the room.

a painting that won an art contest. now captured and posted in a blog.

marisantheia: hello. this is going to be my first time writing this long of a caption for my viewers here on this blog. why now, if you ask? some life-changing experiences have happened in my life and as a faceless artist posting their art on the internet, i’m certain it is time for me to let you know who i am and my journey with painting and this blog.

painting came to my life in a time full of sorrow. abandonment. loneliness. that feeling like you are an outcast. i moved away from the town i was born in and i was homesick, thinking that i don’t belong in the new place i moved to. leaving behind family and friends i made, specifically this boy that has stayed by my side since the earliest memory i could remember from the top of my head. the town is a seaside town with a mountain backdrop, a beautiful town indeed full of bustling local business and hipster culture as people like to say. i learned about flowers and their beauty back when i was a child there, but learn each flower, even the ones that are technically the same species, have different meanings from the way the colors of their petals, et cetera, at school after moving away from that place. the place where i’m from is called haeyang.

i’m now a student at haeyang institute of arts, majoring in fine arts. i started this blog by the time that i was a freshman, just for my personal gallery of works or studies i made other than having the real thing in my hands. but, people start to get to know about this blog and commented about how the paintings looked like monet make them. i sure am grateful to hear that as my favorite painting style is impressionism. a view of how an ocean looks like or the type of flower i choose can inflict something different on their people, can even send a message that i didn’t even realize resonated with people so much. as a university student who has a limited amount of money, i appreciate so much on the enthusiasm all of you have in wanting me to sell art prints of my original arts.

what about that life-changing experience? well, i found the boy i have been with when i return back to haeyang, and ever since that day i met him again, my life changed in a month. all that loneliness was gone within me and between us. but there is also a sad story to this too. as you may know, my institute is embroiled in a scandal where one of the lecturers has been exposed for making their students model their painting in an erotic way and no prior consent is made between the parties for them to paint them and sell the finished works to people who appropriate that behavior. it is sad to say that i am one of the victims of that scandal.

that lecturer told me that being a painter is a hard job. the value of your painting will not be as high because it’s not sought after or if the painter has not died yet. i believe that it is not true as shown by you all and your support for me. they also told me they found beauty in tainting the innocent, something that is in saying that art is subjective to all people, so long as they all consented. the boy helped me so much in finding clarity and closure for both of the problems that we face after a long time of not meeting each other. he, along with my parents and my friends, help in condemning this lecturer’s behavior and their inappropriate way of using power for their own benefit.

i made this painting in the picture a few days after i met the boy again and i was in the most confusing phase of my life. the “beauty in captivity” concept is a match for this painting and what i was facing back then. a small excerpt of it is on the plaque in the gallery.

though i won’t mention my identity as a whole here, this painting of mine will mention my name and my whole psyche of what is happening in my life that day. i do not have to tell you who i am, but i hope behind a pseudonym and without seeing what i look like, i still can able to express what i’m feeling, what i’m facing, what i’m going to be, through the impressions i have. i also considered about expanding the subjects i paint to not just nature-based only, but also people and their activities as they are a part of nature.

thank you for all your support. have a fine day.

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__karin_yoo__: i guess you know who am i now. i just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done. your art speaks to me like no one could and i’m sorry for the things you faced right now. inspired by you, i’ll try to be a better person rather than judge others behind a persona or my perception towards them. i respect your decision to not open your identity and i will do my best to uphold that. thank you once again…

haruka.min: thank you for your passion for art. it scared me to know what you are facing is beyond what i imagined. you’ve been a great friend of mine with whom i can share my love and passion for art and also for believing in me no matter what my identity is. come to the shop again if you have free time from uni someday :D

you finished the last stroke on your canvas as you step back from your easel. an image of a road in the nighttime with streetlights on the sidewalk of a downtown area. the palette you’re holding is full of blue hue, but now with a different intention than the sea that covers half of your collection. you hold the brush between your thumb, fore, and middle fingers close to your chin, the end of the handle tapping slightly against it as you bite your lips, eye scouring down the canvas for any mistakes or any parts that are not enough until you feel satisfied with the end result.

a meow sounded behind you as you braced for the furry body to lean against your calves and ankles. there’s a small nudge on your legs as you look down to see the now bigger pansy rubbing her body against your legs. though she is still a kitten, she isn’t as frail and tiny as the first time you decide to adopt her. pansy looks up to you, another meow.

“do you want to eat?” a meow sounded as an answer.

you give a small smile as you pull off your apron and put them on your desk, looking around the studio. one side is your area where you put your paintings, easel, and tools. your desk sits as a storyboard for a project because of the classes you take this semester is more audio-visual centric. the other is yeonjun’s small nook full of his collection and an electric guitar he has now trying to learn, perfect for you to find a topic for your homework for your music class.

as your time living in the hall ends, yeonjun asks you to move in with him at the end of the semester. he was ecstatic to know you agree even if you don’t accept at once when he asked, prompting him to do some persuasions which you reply with an agreement. your first impression of the newly styled home that yeonjun lived in was weird as the neutral pieces of furniture in the living room are covered with boxes from yeonjun’s room which exudes shadows because of how dark his items are. the only new thing he bought at that time was a mattress that sits in the middle of the living room. when you move in later, the house is cleaner because you help him tidy the place up with him, leaving a few empty spaces for your belongings that enters at the end of the semester.

out of respect, you made soobin’s room into a studio and hobby area while you and he sleep in one room together in your parents’ bedroom. though the house looks the same as when you used to live there back when you were a child, it has a more youthful vibe flowing in the air. you remember him asking you to pick which paint color is better for both of your rooms and all the small renovations he made as he prepares for you to live with him. you also hung a few of your art on the empty walls of the hallway so that it doesn’t look as barren.

the next few months after the day the blizzard should happen was the most eventful yet stressful time of your life so far. your parents arrive at haeyang as soon as possible in time for you to be called to the police station for more evidence collecting in the interrogation room. more of the victims’ parents came to haeyang to meet their children as you all gathered to hire the most competent team of lawyers to face park in court. besides all that preparation, you went to the gallery a week after the day your powers disappear as they introduce winners of the contest’s arts. the organizer giving recognition to you and two other people from your institute who are victims of park. by that time, you were numb with the amounts of pressure coming from all sides, from your semester that isn’t finished and the court hearing that is starting.

you sometimes have a daydream where you can rewind time again, feeling like it has gone quicker since you can’t control them anymore. opening and closing your palm as if thinking it will go back just because a rippling wave of sensation is on your hand. you closed your eyes and breathe every time those things happens. you try to learn to live your life better than before with all the stress that is pressing down on your shoulders.

yeonjun stood beside you all the way, helping you calm down when you have to go to the witness stand and face your teacher for all the disgusting things he did to you and your peers. by the end of the days of court hearings, the judge gives jail time by counting punishments he got for each student he violated, heavier punishment if he confirms in violating the students much worse than what he did to you. park will not see the light of day soon.

you finished putting the food on the small dining table you both bought for your home, pansy sitting quietly while eating her cat food. you sit down on the couch, legs stretch to the coffee table in front of you as the sun sets down from the view of the backyard, the lighthouse peeking out from the high fences. the front door opens and you turn to see yeonjun in his usual style, now with a backpack behind him as he puts his shoes down in the cabinet, coming home from his new job at the music store where he helps people find the albums they want to listen or the instruments that they want to play.

“hey, baby.” he trails the word as he throws his backpack on the rug and sat on the couch beside you, giving a kiss to your stomach before trailing up to your chest, neck, and landing on your lips. fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair as you press your partner more for the kiss against you, feeling his tongue wiping on your bottom lip before you allow him to meet your own tongue, dancing with each other. lean back from the kiss as you breathe hard, you brush his hair away.

“hey love. aren’t you hungry?”

“starving.” you let out a giggle as you stand on your feet. your hand opens so he can put his right hand on top of it. there is a tattoo of a forget-me-not flower on his right forearm, the only colored tattoo on his body as you also have the same tattoo on your own right forearm.

you dragged him to the dining table where you prepare a simple meal for you both. you straighten your clothes near your belly as you hope none of the paints is staining your clothes, giving it a small rub, before sitting in front of him as the day comes to a close. his giggles filled the room when weird craving picks up again as you added random things in your meal. small joyful moments that sprinkle your day as you prepare for the next phase in your life with him and many more in your lifetime.

the air around her is frigid when she opens her eyes.

herin sits up on her bed, cold sweat surrounding her body as she puts her legs down on the floor of her room this morning. she heard her phone vibrate as she looks at the bedside table. a message from you.

(y/n) <3: hey! ready for class today?

she looks at your name, haunted. rubbing the skin under her eyes with her finger, she felt the tears that were falling from the nightmare she experience. seeing you being lifted to the sky before being sucked into a tornado forming in the middle of haeyang, her grasp not strong enough to keep you.

“i have to get some caffeine,” she mumbles as she gets up and gets a hoodie from her closet then picks up her wallet and phone as she goes to the kitchen on the floor of her room. ever since you move out, herin moves into your old room as she wants to be closer to minjeong to grab a snack together or walk to class together before parting ways so she can meet you. herin was scrolling through a poetry e-book she downloaded, trying to distract herself when she hears a ding from the coffee machine and a cup of coffee ready for her to grab.

as she walks back to her room, not focusing on the hallway, she didn’t see a girl running down the hallway for her class and they clash with each other. the coffee flies into the air as herin falls down to the floor, palms wide open as she is ready to brace for the impact, closing her eyes.

the air around her is frigid when she opens her eyes.

(y/n) <3: hey! ready for class today?

wait… didn’t this happen to her before? is this déjà vu?

“what the hell?”

taglist: @endzii23 @msxflower @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @haechanswaifu @wccycc @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @fluffairee @boba-beom @feline4txt @rein-deer-stuffs @kookthief @papiibuprofen @soobsfairy444 @yeombin @jaemacchiatto @zgkigia @strawbrinkofdeath @moaberryjjunie

can’t tag: @bubblejunnies @meowchikatt @ricepill @kayalayadayla @enchantedrose @johnnysluver @xiaoting999 @xxunmeixsenpaixx

#txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt fluff #txt smut #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #rsc: time wave #cr: yeonjun #cs: txt #sc: regina

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djsherriff-responses · 20 days

Text

Okay this was gonna be just one fic but I may have split it into 2-3 parts instead (depending on how the rest goes) so have the first part for now

TW for mild violence, suicidal tendencies, mpreg and early signs of pregnancy as well as suggestive content

It’s been a couple of weeks since he was forced to become part of team Ghost, Dolph hasn’t become particularly close to any of them despite having to share a prison cell as a “home” with his fellow teammates.

When the Warden gave the ghosts the mission to infiltrate into Pagan Min’s base and steal some high tech portal scope, Dolph didn’t think much of it at the time, nor did he care. Dolph’s head was a complete wreck and he wanted the Warden just to blow it up already instead of making him her errand boy.

But when she brought up Alex, curiosity ate at him. Alex, the man he had loved, the one he dreamed to run away into the sunset with and the one he couldn’t imagine life without , backstabbed him just when freedom from Eden was within reach.

“For the revolution” Alex told him before pulling the trigger, but didn’t he once say revolution was for suckers? Or was this “revolution” just a cover up for the fact Alex tore Dolph’s heart out , for money of all things?

Questions with no answers plagued his mind as he stood upon the rooftops, awaiting the signal from the warden to do his part of her plan. In the distance, Dolph saw the small window to the top floor of Pagan Min’s crime filled abode open. “You’re up next” Warden spoke through his head piece.

“It’s about damn time” He responded with clear annoyance in his voice.

Without fear he jumped off from his post and into the depths of the crime infested city below. With grace more befitting a ballet dancer than that of a military weapon , Dolph hooked onto the building with the anchor within his cyborg arm and slipped through the narrow opening into Pagan Min’s room almost effortlessly.

One of the perks of being raised in the Eden military is the years Dolph had for perfecting his landings.

“I’m in”

“Good. Swap the scopes and get out”

The room was large and expensive, almost regal looking. Being mostly of whites and various shades of pink or purple with gold accents, with the wealth of the place was impossible to miss, you didn’t need the state of the art multi million dollar military tech scanner lodged into your skull to see that this was owned by an entitled asshole. Dolph scanned the room with his robotic eye and found a cabinet hidden within the walls, the scope stashed safety inside.

Before he got near the cabinet to swap out the scope with the fake , he froze.

There was an ashtray with a recently used cigar across from where Dolph was.

Dolph could recognise the smell of that faintly lit cigar from a mile away, much less from the coffee table a few feet from him. It’s actually astonishing Dolph didn’t notice it when he entered the room, the familiar smell was often a sign of the warm and welcoming presence he desperately craved in a world so cold and harsh.

But something didn’t feel right.

He dropped the fake scope and walked towards the bedroom door. Dolph could hear the warden in his ear piece asking him what he was doing and demanding he get back to the task on hand, but he didn’t care. Because the whispers of lustful passion were louder and Dolph could not ignore the stab of betrayal lodging deeper into his back with each step he took.

Dolph felt nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach as his hand grazed over the door.

Without hesitation Dolph ran out the room and onto the balcony and vomitted over the railings. His eyes wide with sudden confusion, he felt his stomach twisting as his insides spilled over , was it the smell of the smoke? Dolph huffed as faint tears slipped through his eyes. “Dolph , what did you eat before this mission?” Dolph heard the Warden ask , but he was too busy catching his breath to answer.

“Answer me Laserhawk!”

“I don’t know , maybe that shit excuse you call prison food gave me food poisoning!?”

Before Dolph could continue to argue, he heard the door opening with a very annoyed sounding Pagan on the phone. Panicking and still suffering from a light nausea, Dolph quickly jumped onto the roof before the Crime lord could spot him , leaving the scene before he could see who else was in the suite with Pagan.

Though he had a strong suspicion who it was.

“Are you still there Laserhawk?”

“Yes” Dolph responded, hoping the fresh air of the roof will clear his head. He could hear the Warden sighing.

“We’ll have to abort mission. Laserhawk, you need to get your shit together”

#captain laserhawk #Captain Laserhen #Fanfics #dolph laserhawk #Sarah fisher #dolph doesn’t know this but the baby inside him doesn’t like the smell of smoke

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lawlietscaramels · 2 months

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I read your last post (and all the previous ones), but I haven’t had the energy to comment on it lately. I’m a bit drowsy rn but I would like to chat about headcanons and such.

See, I’ve always been a person who tries to adhere to canon as much as possible in my own writing/art/etc. I try not to stray too far for fear of misinterpreting the characters or misrepresenting them.

But then I entered the death note fandom. You’re totally right with comparing the different canons to multiverses with their own rulesets. There’s so much out there to read, watch, etc. And everyone has different opinions on what’s “more” canon. I would take it one step further and say that anyone’s perception of the story is going to be slightly different from another’s, because that’s how we see things. And people in fandom make art and such based on their perceptions of the characters, which often includes projecting headcanons onto them. For better or worse.

Tbh, I dunno if I really got the idea of a “comfort character” until L and Near. There’s just so much about them that I relate to, especially Near. I may never solve a serial murder case, but I do solve problems by sitting on the floor and playing with toys. I find myself staring dead-eyed at people or at screens when I’m thinking. My point is that I find comfort in these characters, and wonder what they might do if scared, or stressed, or alone. Naturally, headcanons arise, based on my interpretation and my outlook on the world. The important thing is, I’m not Ohba or Obata. If I write these characters, I’m naturally going to insert little pieces of myself in the characters, whether I know it or not. And so will you, and anyone who writes them.

When you wrote your headcanons about L vs Ryuzaki, I found myself nodding along because I related to those. As a neurodivergent person myself, I sometimes feel like I subconsciously act differently in the presence of others out of a need to keep an “image” that others have built of me, even if it’s not entirely positive. That’s how I interpreted your post about L. I understand, however, why the other anon interpreted the post as ableist. Maybe it came off as you “explaining away” L’s habits, like some attempt to make the character more “palatable”. I don’t wanna put words in your or the anon’s mouths though, so I’m not gonna speculate.

I guess I just wanted to write this to say- it’s okay that you have headcanons and I promise you, I love reading them! Sometimes people interpret them poorly, and sometimes we need to reflect on why we have the headcanons we do about characters. I really do think you had good intentions though.

I’m not sure how to wrap this up, but I genuinely hope you’re doing well, Lei. Feel free to delete this ask after you’ve read it, if you like. I just thought I’d try to give an opinion.

-🎲 (I hope this ask is coherent and tumblr doesn’t eat it.)

I wanna share this because you genuinely just made my day, 🎲 anon. and also to elaborate more. So, anyone with doubts on my intentions, please read.

I did admit and I will say again that I did not approach L vs Ryuzaki in the best way and I did not think it through. But my intention was NOT to explain L's traits away and make them more "palatable." I didn't realise I needed to include this in the description of the original post, but I love him so much for his "weirdness" and being "unpalatable" because that's what society calls me when I don't mask. Like L, I sit in weird ways, and speak in monotone, and I play a lot with mouth and fingers, and I dead stare at people and I just. I see a lot of myself in him.

And the things that I've always felt bad about myself I love seeing in/headcanoning on L. To share a personal story, I stare at people without blinking for several minutes, and when I was entering my teen years I got called rude, weird and creepy for it - and around that time I watched Death Note and I immediately clicked with L (for many reasons but that's the one I can give a specific example why for). I went "L stares like me, and people call him weird, but I can see he's not bad, he's really cool - maybe I'm not bad either".

That got into a bit of a rant sorry 😭 again. obviously I didn't intend to hurt anyone. but again, I did not approach it in the best way. I should also say, because I didn't address it properly in my original answer: I wasn't trying to elaborate on the Ryuzaki theory. I was trying to share my own headcanons on how L expresses MORE of himself, NOT a completely different self, when alone.

I do think he sleeps at least once a day (if only for a short time). I do think he eats things other than sweets (especially steak. I throw my anemia onto him and with it comes STRONG cravings for rare meat). I do think he sits in ADDITIONAL ways to the 40% smarter. but I DON'T think that those traits are all 100% fake completely for show.

anyway. again. seeing this made me feel better. I'm not sure if the anon who sent the ableist thing was a follower, but it's nice to know that people I've been interacting with can tell I didn't have malicious intent. I felt pretty down after getting it, I felt so bad about writing something that could be interpreted like that - maybe that could only be interpreted like that - and I kind of avoided Tumblr a bit after. even posting of a and b or any of my recent "lei chats," I've felt so anxious that I'm going to be misinterpreted. It's the worst feeling. In real life people assume I'm being rude/malicious all the time when I'm being genuine/don't have that intent. Online, in the most part, I found a space where people assume the opposite. So it hurt.

AGAIN I RANTED AND IT GOT A BIT PERSONAL I'M SO SORRY. but thank you very much 🎲 anon. you made me smile <3

#i really appreciate this. thank you. and i hope i specified enough about what I meant with the post #lei chats #🎲 anon

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jfoote2003 · 1 year

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The animated pilot for Lackadaisy made me fall in love with webcomics again

On March 29th, 2023, a pilot for an animated adaptation of the webcomic “Lackadaisy” was released on YouTube, a few hours after it premiered it pops up in my feed, I click on it, not even knowing what it is and just thinking it looks cool, it becomes one of my favorite pieces of indie animation I have seen, then I find out that it is based on a webcomic.

I am a big fan of webcomics, I like how with the boost of the internet people were able to get very famous for work that was self-produced and self-published. Now, people that got their start with webcomics have now gone on to be bigger parts of the industry. One Punch Man started as a webcomic that then got a manga adaptation and finally an anime, with the author behind it going on to make Mob Psycho 100, which also started as a webcomic that then got adapted. The guys behind Penny Arcade made a tie-in comic for Fallout 3 and have gone on to create the charity Child’s Play and the convention PAX (Penny Arcade Expo) which is a convention all about video games. One of the biggest anime from last year, Spy x Family got its start as a webcomic as well.

Lackadaisy started in July 2006 and is still going on, set in St. Louis, Louisiana during the era of Prohibition. All the characters in the series are anthropomorphic cats, the series follows Rocky, a bootlegger, Calvin, Rocky’s cousin, Ivy, who works at the Little Daisy Café, the front for the speakeasy, and their boss Mitzi, the widow of the Lackadaisy speakeasy’s founder. The antagonists are Mordecai, a triggerman for Lackadaisy’s rival, Marigold, and siblings Serafine and Nicodeme, who work alongside Mordecai. Lackadaisy’s author, Tracy Butler, has both a merch store and a Patreon, which help fund the comic. Meanwhile the animated pilot was funded through Kickstarter, raising roughly $330k.

The Lackadaisy pilot is great, if you haven’t seen it, I recommend it. The voice cast did great, the standout for me being the voice of Mordecai, SungWon Cho, better known as ProZD. I’m a huge fan of ProZD, I remember him from the Vine days, and have been super happy to see him get some very big roles, my jaw fell to the floor when I realized he voiced Ratatoskr in God of War: Ragnarok. The animation is so good, there are also moments where you can see the sketch lines on the characters faces, likely due to the AI “art” stuff that’s been going on for the past while. Anyway, it’s a great watch, it’s about half an hour long and free on YouTube. And since watching it, I went back and began reading the webcomic, and it’s good too, it’s worth checking out.

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lillygrovesims · 2 years

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Capp Family Week 1 -

A strict home that leaves its youth with little free time, each begins to act out in their own ways.

Day 1

Hermia, a lover of the arts and tired of the overbearing energy at home, decides to visit the art gallery. She’d visited the gallery ever since she was a child, Her mother loved the quiet that came with the place and Hermia came to love it as well. As always despite the years nothing changed in the place, the same pieces remained on the old walls. Some by local artists from ages ago and some by famous artists just as old. Hermia sighed, the lack of respect for art and expression in her home town beginning to frustrate her. Lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed the similarly sullen boy stepping up next to her.

He wasn’t more than an inch taller than her, his hair a close orange to her own and his lips coated in a layer of black, but the point to his ears caught her attention most. Her staring, seeming to act as a tap on the shoulder caused the boy to turn to her. Having his profile suddenly ripped from her sight she was visibly startled. The boy looked startled as well and averted his eyes. Silence sat over the two for what felt like forever until the boy finally broke it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He mumbled, still struggling to regain eye contact. “Oh no, it’s fine! I’m sorry for staring, it's just…” She started to trail off, losing the gumption that came from his unexpected apology. He finally met her eyes again and arched his brow, asking her to continue. “Are you… Not from here? I mean, I don’t recognize you and if you were from here I would!” Hermia started to ramble, cursing at herself in her mind for not knowing when to stop.

Her self depreciation was interrupted by a soft laugh. “Yeah, me and my family just moved here a couple months ago. I heard they had an art gallery here and wanted to check it out.” He said, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “Do you like art?” Hermia asked. “Uh… Yeah?” He said, seeming unsure. “I don’t make anything myself but I like what it represents.” He scratched behind his ear bashfully. “What about you?” He gestured to her as he asked. “Oh, Yeah! I write and, uh…” She paused as she thought of how to phrase the rest of that sentence without revealing too much. “I paint.” She settled. He seemed to notice the hesitance but didn’t pry. The two startled as suddenly a ringing came from the boy's pocket. He fished for his phone and Hermia guessed the call was from someone important based on the way his brows furrowed. “I gotta take this. It was nice meeting you, Hermia, I hope I run into you again.” He started toward the exit before stopping and turning back toward her. “I’m Puck by the way!” “It- It was nice to meet you too, Puck!” and with a final wave, Puck was gone. As Hermia gazed in the direction he left something finally struck her… When did she tell him her name?

The elegant ring of a piano filled the Capp manor. Consort’s fingers moved across the keys, dignified in their movements. The front door creaked, barely heard over the melody. Hermia rounded the corner to find her grandfather’s hard focus uninterrupted. She turned away, relieved he didn’t seem to notice her entering the home. “Hermia.” She tensed as the piano rang a dreadful tone, Consorts fingers holding down the keys before lifting dropping the space into silence. “Yes grandfather?” She turned back toward him, eyes locked to the floor. “Where were you?” Consort stood from the instrument, closing the lid to protect the ivory. The lid gave a loud thud as it met the opposing wood, causing Hermia to jump. She knew her grandfather didn’t mean any harm but that didn’t change that his presence was intimidating. “The art gallery.” She responded. Consort paused for a moment before nodding and moving to enter his bedroom. Hermia let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She started to ascend the stairs.

An hour later dinner was served (burnt mac and cheese, yum!) and once again the sound of silverware on porcelain filled the air. The family didn’t speak during dinner, at least not anymore. Meals were dreadfully quiet and once finished every member went their separate ways. In the quiet Hermia’s mind started to wander back to the events at the art gallery. A new family? When was the last time there was a new name in Veronaville? She’d always heard of the Monty’s and the less than flattering things her family had to say about them. There were a couple other families she could recall but she’d seen all of them at least once. Puck, the boy with pointy ears who seemed to know her before she knew him was torturing her mind. She suddenly thought to ask her grandfather, he seemed to know all the ins and outs of town despite his disinterest in gossip. “Uh.” Hermia croaked, the table fell to silence as everyone stopped moving to bring attention to her. She shrank under their gaze but figured she’d already started so she might as well finish. “I met someone new at the gallery.” She stated. Tybalt was the first to start eating again but not before giving a scoff, making his disinterest clear. On the other hand Juliette’s interest peaked. “New? Here? Were they just visiting?” Juliette leaned toward her sister and she spoke. “No, he said he and his family had moved here a couple months ago.” The younger girl answered. “He said his name was Puck?” She said in a questioning tone, turning toward her grandfather, hoping for a clue if he knew anything about the mysterious new family. Consort noticed and cleared his throat as he straightened his already straight tie. “The Summerdream’s have moved back here recently-'' He didn’t get to finish the thought before Hermia interrupted. “Back?” Consort stared blankly at Hermia for a moment before closing his eyes and continuing. “Yes. They lived here briefly when you three were children. They weren’t very well off then but it seems they had run into some luck while they were away.” Hermia went quiet, lost in thought. Had she met Puck before then? Is that why he knew her name? But why didn’t she remember him? She definitely would have, wouldn’t she? “Why hadn’t we seen them in school?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Juliette’s question. She shot a quizzical gaze to no one in particular. Tybalt scoffed again, discarding his silver on the table and shoving his chair out hashly and stormed off upstairs. The rest of the party were unfazed, regarding this as normal behavior for the boy. “They hadn’t enrolled yet. I imagine you will see them soon.” Consort concluded, finally returning to his dish as the table was plunged into silence once again.

Tybalt slammed his bedroom door and began to pace back and forth. Juliette and Hermia may not remember the Summerdream boy but Tybalt did. The anger was misplaced, he didn’t mean to direct it at Puck but instead the Monty brothers he reminded him of. Tybalt clenched his fist reminiscing about his childhood. Before the thoughts could overwhelm him he shook his head and groaned.

He changed into his workout clothes, hoping to drown out his thoughts with a good work out.

#Veronaville #the sims 3 #the capp family #sims storytelling #week 1

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outoftheframework · 3 years

Text

my proposal for tropes we as a fandom should adopt in all fanworks going forward: Duke Thomas edition

So every fandom has tropes and characterization quirks that have been generally accepted into fanon and, like, maybe? they were originally based on some obscure comic panel from the 80s or something but it doesn’t really matter because we’re all just,,, cool with it? Like for example- in the dc comics fandom, an art piece could show 3 of the bats that look virtually identical except one of them is holding a box of cereal so that one is obviously Dick Grayson. . . Y’know?

Anyway, these things usually come up naturally I guess but I’ve been here a while and it’s finally time to put my foot down. It’s high time for Duke Thomas to be more in fanon than “the sane one.” Because he might be the relatively new guy but he is certainly fears no gods or laws of the land just as much as the other bats, lemme tell ya.

TL;DR here are character quirks (”canon-based” or otherwise) that we should all really latch onto seriously I’m begging y’all to make at least one of these happen-

Duke “Habitually Jumping Out of Moving Vehicles” Thomas

This one’s actually based in canon y’all; Duke did indeed yeet himself out of the back of a cop car and off of a bridge (in We Are... Robin). Normalize Duke’s wearing knee and elbow pads as Signal because jumping out of a car turns out relatively fine once and then suddenly Batman’s rooftop disappearing act seems mellow compared to the amount of times Gordon has whipped his head around to see a now Signal-less backseat.

Like, he’s going 60 mph?? And he didn’t even hear the door open?? and tHE DOORS ARE STILL LOCKED??

Imagine this leaking into civilian life and Bruce waking up to a blurry photo of Duke mid-escape from a limousine on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.

(more under cut)

Duke “Puzzles are my Passion” Thomas

Duke is ~canonically~ very skilled at both solving and concocting riddles (as a child during that time where The Riddler just,,, controlled Gotham, he worked non-stop on riddles, trying to make the perfect one). Please y’all- let Duke solve puzzles. Have the other bats ask him for help after 36 hours straight of brooding over some brainteaser that Duke works out within the half-hour. He texts a picture of the solution scribbled out on loose leaf in the margins of his pre-calc homework because this boy shows his work.

My guy is a word-cross FIEND. A mind-sweeper speed-runner. That guy who mails into the Gazette to correct a solution in the “fun & games” section and also ps that photo is not of me I am simply a polite young man who is much too busy writing into the paper in the year 2021 to jump out of limos-

I also would love to see this integrated into the type of cases he investigates / runs into on his daytime patrol. Like, obviously the criminal activity is going to dramatically differ before and after sundown, but that doesn’t make Duke’s work any easier or less important. It’s a different skillset; he has to work differently. Instead of jumping into fights, halting mob meetings, saving civilians in dark allies, etc. Duke has to sort through all of the moving pieces before they all converge into something catastrophic.

It’s a known fact that criminal organizations in Gotham make and execute a lot of behind-the-scenes plans during the day specifically not to run into the bats. And Duke knows and monitors this shit all by himself; his work is crucial to logistics and information gathering for the bats as a whole. Now criminals have like, a 2 hour gap between bat-shifts to try and get stuff done. But Duke would 100% set traps on timers or lead them on this pre-set convoluted goose chase to distract them until the night bats come out and to let himself enjoy the whole thing playing out on the news while he finishes homework that’s due at midnight.

Duke “I Know a Guy” Thomas

So in going off of the basic concept for the “We Are. . . Robin” run in combination to his general likability, Duke has a lot of friends all around Gotham. Okay, sure, he doesn’t have a Super best friend or a Speedster on speed dial, but he does know this guy who details cars up on West 35th and will tell them all about the new mods on Black Mask’s transport vans if they come through the third floor window and bring takeout.

Bruce and Tim will be waiting for the facial recognition software to identify at least a partial match off of security cam footage when Duke pulls into the cave, takes one look at the screen, and says “Oh, that’s <insert name, address, abridged life story, and known associates here>.” This also brings in the opportunity for Duke to have some sort of perfect recall for faces, voices, names, etc. which I think could be a really cool element for his position as the batfamily member who has a lot more personal interaction with the people of Gotham.

I’m also into the idea of a lot of people knowing/telling stories about Duke. Not to reference the Chuck Norris meme but almost like the Chuck Norris meme lmao. Think about Jason mentioning his brother to someone and she replies, “Duke Thomas? Like that Duke Thomas? The one who swam across the harbor because he said it’d be faster than the subway and it actually was?” These stories have varying levels of truth to them but Duke will never confirm nor deny when he gets random calls from family members yelling “you dID WHAT”

So those are my top three, and the following is a little speed-round of headcanons :)

Duke has a super expressive face. Like when he’s relaxed around family, you can tell exactly what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling by his visual reactions to things

Duke rotates through picking up new and revisiting old hobbies at a pretty rapid pace. Some hobbies include: bullet journaling, origami, viola, cello, synth, conversational basics in multiple languages, up-cycling and embroidering clothes

Duke has a really fucking adorable smile. He can’t help it. He’ll try to grin sarcastically or smug to be annoying but his smile just cannot be anything other than endearing. He also has a very specific booming laugh that’s an absolute treasure to hear, because it’s the most genuinely happy thing ever.

Duke unironically enjoys Signal by Twice even though the first time he heard it was after Steph had set it as his morning alarm.

So.

Come and get your food, I guess.

Feel free to add on if you’d like! I’d love to see anything you guys write/draw/etc. based on anything from here if you feel compelled to do so!

Stay safe and be well :)

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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

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asimpletroll · 3 years

Text

(A) (M) Chisaki Kai X (O) (F) Reader

You?

You were the Omega who had been stinking up his base for the last month?

YOU?

"-so sorry, so so sorry, I didn't see you, I was looking for Eri, Rappa startled her again, I swear I didn't mean to bump you-" You babble at Chisaki, close to your heat and scared of every Alpha in the base at the moment. You don't realize how his eyes have zeroed in on you, you're too busy cowering against the wall, trying to apologize and make sure he doesn't hit you, or worse.

"Be quiet." You immediately shut up, your throat feeling constricted even though he didn't use his Alpha tone or his Quirk on you, you look at him with watering (e/c) orbs as he strides over, taking off his coat slowly. "Your slick is dripping. I'll have someone else look for Eri, you need to get to your nest."

"...I...I live in the barracks, I-I can't-"

"Then come with me." He wraps an arm around you with care he never uses, making sure to keep his coat (you're so small it drops nearly to your knees, and Chisaki is swooning on the inside at how cute you look) between the two of you and wrapped securely around you so that no one else sees your current...predicament.

Chisaki notices your fear increasing, almost every step towards his private wing making you pump out more and more fear in your scent.

Normally, he can't even smell you, which is mildly disappointing to him because you smell citrus-y and a little sweet, but it was always very subtle and clean.

Now, all he could smell was your fear, and the urge to hole you away from everyone and everything was making him very twitchy as he opens the door to his wing.

You instinctively pause upon the threshold, your Omega screaming that this means this Alpha likes you, that it was time to Mate. Chisaki waits for you patiently, knowing the battle you're fighting and being fascinated by the micro-expressions racing through you. Your pupils twitch slightly in every which way, your ears perk and shift a little with noises, and your nose wrinkles a little (like the bunny he had as a child would) as you get particularly stressed.

"I cannot find you someplace comfortable if we loiter for much longer." He finally speaks up and tells you, you flinch a little, but follow his unmentioned command of 'hurry up' and almost bump into him again as he closes the door.

As soon as it shuts, lights flick on, and this time he gently wraps an arm around your waist as you spook. He gently lets you recover from your heart attack adjust to his touch, then guides you past several rooms that reek of other Alphas to you, and the locks on the door along with how reinforced they are tell you all you need to know about what might be in those rooms.

"I am unfamiliar with creating a space for a Heat, but I understand you require lots of blankets and soft things?" Chisaki asks you lowly, he spots the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rising, and your own scent smells sweeter, even with the fear overlaying it.

"Yes." You whisper, and try to hide (due to his lack of comment, you guess you hide it) the fact that you get mildly horny at just his voice.

Chisaki is amused by this, mostly by the fact that your entire face had turned red and was a very clear indicator of your dilemma to him.

"Why are you so afraid, Omega?" He asks you conversationally, as if he had by total and complete accident of course not dropped his voice several octaves just fool with you. You repress a shiver, and he grins under his mask, a very feral and smug grin, as he gently inhales your sweetened scent a bit more.

"M-My parents...they didn't...didn't want an Omega...didn't want me...so they would destroy my nests...even before I was revealed to be Quirkless..." You murmur quietly, timidly almost, to him, and he feels himself harden at how perfect you were for him.

"Why would they do that? Children smaller than four years old require softness or they are in danger of chewing something into pieces or eating it whole." Chisaki keeps his voice low, loving how you try and repress another shiver, and your pheromones almost choke him as he tries to gently sniff them again.

If you two didn't find an appropriate area soon, he may simply take you to his den, which would be twice as dangerous for the both of you.

"I...I don't know...it was...mildly better...after my little brother was born. He was a boy, an Alpha too, and he had a Quirk." You tell him, trying to make your clenching pelvic muscles stop their ridiculousness. Chisaki is too busy rolling his eyes to notice that you're starting to hold on to his coat a little tighter to try and hide the fact that your pants are officially soaked through.

"Oh...they're those types of people..." Chisaki says, his voice the lowest yet in barely-withheld rage, and a pitched whine escapes you before you wrap a hand around the base of your throat. Chisaki almost walks into a wall in surprise, you immediately sidestep as he steadies himself.

"I'm sorry-" You immediately return to the babbling mess you were in the hall, trying to appease him when even you can tell he isn't angry, in fact, if the crinkles by his eyes are any indicator, he's smiling under his mask.

But you're scared. And horny. So you run your mouth without thinking, apologizing frantically before he gently wraps his arm around your waist, he gently tugs you close to him, you keep your eyes averted and lowered to the floor, but he removes his face mask entirely in order to kiss your forehead gently.

You clench the hand around your throat tighter as he re-places his mask back on his face, he then runs a hand through your short hair tenderly. You look up at him from under your eyebrows, your lashes dark and long and thick as they frame your gorgeous (e/c) orbs.

"You simply startled me, there is no reason to apologize." He rumbles to you, his voice much lower now as his Alpha starts to really push for some attention. He watches with amusement and arousal as you clench your legs together, the slick now dripping low enough for him to see it, even with his jacket around you. "But may I ask you something?"

"Y-Yes, sir." You squeak, Chisaki goes from hard to full-blown, raging erection, you can barely hear him inhale, a very subtle noise that doesn't quite click in your mind until he presses the two of you together.

"...have you ever had an Alpha before?" He purrs, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head and all the fear leaves you immediately as you melt into him. "I'm guessing not."

"N-None o-of them-" You squeak slightly in indignation as Chisaki plucks you up from the floor like a ragdoll, gathering you into his chest and not minding your wet and sticky slick soaking into his chest. "-None of them ever w-wanted a Q-Quirkless Omega."

Chisaki is immediately disappointed, not in you or anything about you, but at the rest of society for letting such a sweet and pure thing sink so low as him.

"They were fools then, and did not deserve you." Chisaki turns down a hall, and it's getting very hard for you to not nuzzle him. His musky, beautiful scent was everything you've ever liked, blended together in such a complex way you couldn't describe all of the unique notes and subtle tones of it. Chisaki notices you eyeing his neck and gently presses your face into it, you let out a startled, but pleasantly so, squeak, and he purrs for real this time at the adorable noise.

Your slick surges and you let out a much higher-pitched purr, leaning in against him as he opens a door quietly, the hall light flicks off and leaves you in darkness before Chisaki gently closes the door with his heel. You've buried your face in his neck, blinding yourself to the fact that Chisaki has brought you to his room, his den and haven.

At least, until his no-longer-gloved hands sneak their way under his jacket, undoing a single button on your shirt to lay themselves on your bare waist. You gasp softly in surprise, moving your face from his neck just enough to give him a startled look.

He nuzzles you, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the door as he openly relaxes, holding you close while gently fondling your slightly-chubby-but-not-noticeably waist.

"C-Chisaki?" You squeak, one of his hands immediately rolls your shirt up and off of you, you squeak again in surprise, but he tossing your shirt and his coat haphazardly onto the floor. You immediately cover your breasts, your face once again blushing strongly, and he quickly does away with his masks as well, hanging them on a hook by the door as he gently turns your face to his by tenderly grasping your chin.

"I want you, Omega. I want you, (Y/N)." He rumbles, striding forward as you turn into a flustered, slicking, horny mess in his arms. His voice is like pure sex but only the deep, tasteful, romantic parts of it.

You mewl a little as he gently places you on his bed, but he rests his arms by your head and kisses you deeply, swallowing anymore noise with tenderness and care. You forget about your embarrassment as he gently move his lips against yours, his cock straining against his pants and pressing up against your legs a bit as he leans over you.

"Do you want me also?" Chisaki murmurs to you once the two of you run out of air to suck from each other's lungs, you immediately wrap yourself around him tightly. "Do you want me like I want you, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Chisaki, yes I want you-" You don't get another words out as he kisses you again, his hands easily finding and undoing your bra before starting on the buttons of his shirt. Once you run out of air, he starts kissing the underside of your jaw as you pant quietly, he has to pause (his frustration visible) in order to pull his shirt off. You immediately touch the intricate, but traditional tattoos on his arms, pecs, and (you're willing to bet) his back. "You're so pretty, Chisaki."

"So are you, (Y/N), you just don't have art to paw at." He purrs as he descends on you again, you happily undo his tie for him as he kisses you, and the fact that you fumble with it from the distraction of kissing is adorable to him, and he can feel a small wet patch grow do to his leaking precum. You two pause again, and he attacks your throat and neck with powerful sucks and languid swipes of his tongue as you grind your clothed sex against his.

You gasp quietly when he whips your bra across the room, but he gently fondles one breast and you turn into a melty mess again. He chuckles, happily going back to his network of hickies trailing down your throat and across your shoulder. You happily tangle your hands in his hair, pressing him against you further with soft mewls of encouragement.

"A-Alpha, stop teasing!" You finally reach your breaking point, Chisaki almost rips your dress slacks in his immediately eagerness to get them off of you, you giggle a little and he blushes, burying his face in your neck before you tempt him out with kisses to his cheekbone and nose and the tip of his ear.

Then he actually rips them, his face morphing into one of shock and embarrassment as you giggle loudly and nuzzle him. He mumbles a hasty apology before eagerly pulling them off you, taking your panties with and tossing the mess by the foot of the bed before crawling up your body and trailing lazy kisses up from your bellybutton.

"Why are your pants still on?" You tease, kissing his nose before he can reply, he nips your bottom lip playfully, stilling feeling you up as you squirm gently.

"So impatient, (Y/N)." He teases right back, gently tugging on one of your nipples, you steal another kiss from him as he other hand (that is not forming a bruise on your nipple, not at all, no siree) trails down and teasingly circles your puffy little clit. You gasp in surprise, and Chisaki happily presses forward and slips his tongue and one finger into you at the same time. You melt into a happy, horny, submissive puddle under him, causing him to let out a deep and rumbling purr as he explores your mouth with fervent heat and dominance.

He gently explores your opening too, feeling you flutter around that single digit and getting painfully hard in his pants as he stretches you around a second finger. Your slick makes it easier, but it's still painfully obvious that you are still new at this. (So is Chisaki, but he's hoping you're too horny and heat-addled to realize this.)

You eagerly spread your legs a little, beyond ready for this part as your fingers once again find their way into Chisaki's well-kept hair and tangling it. You moan as his two fingers start to gently stretch you, you can feel Chisaki smile into the kiss a little before it goes from 'romantic exploring' into a creature of teeth and tongue and lots of purring from you both.

Unfortunately, Chisaki knows that you still need prepping, and as much as he enjoys the savage kiss, he separates to let you breathe and whimper and mewl as he continues to stretch you. (Both of you think this is taking a while, but this hasn't even been ten minutes since your butt hit his mattress.)

You surprise him when you nip his ear, but he happily turns your head and sucks on the tender skin underneath one of yours, returning you to the panting, mewling puddle. Your slick has surged so many times, his entire hand is covered up to his wrist, and he hasn't even gotten knuckle-deep yet.

"Such a messy Omega, (Y/N), look at what your naughty cunt has done to my hand." Chisaki purrs absolute filth into your ear, and your eyes roll slightly as you let out a porn star-worthy moan, his hips grind up against you exposed inner thigh roughly as he lets out a possessive growl. "Tell me, my messy Omega, who's making you so wet?"

"You, Chisaki, you are, Alpha!" You mewl, he slips a third finger in, starting to actually move deeper into you as you moan again, he happily continues to dirty-talk in your ear, telling you that this would have happened a lot sooner if you had told him that you were an Omega, he would have gladly bent his little nanny over his desk anytime. Or maybe he should've made you Present yourself to him, without any pesky suppressants to quell your scent, then he would've seen what a messy little cunt that hide itself in such a clean, proper suit would've been capable of.

Or maybe he should open the door, let the entire base hear you get railed.

You dissolve under him, not realizing that he's dissolving right with you, pulling his head closer to you as he finally extracts his fingers and simply Overhauls the rest of his clothes off. (Speaking of, where are your shoes? You swore you had them on in the hall, but your feet are bare now.)

"(Y/N), this may sting." Chisaki whispers into your ear, his head nudging your entrance gently, you tuck your face into his neck tightly, but you aren't afraid, simply nervous.

It does sting, but only enough to make you gasp a little, and that gasp is mostly from shock at Chisaki's sheer size. His girth and length were both big, and while he knows you've never had an Alpha before, this still made his already huge ego blimp.

"Chisaki, Alpha, you're huge." You pant into his neck, he struggles to fit himself into you, and you can feel the veins throbbing against your walls as he slowly sinks in, inch by inch, and you mewl once he reaches your G-spot. You pant against his skin as he slowly bottoms out in you, you can feel him twitching inside of you, but you were seeing stars anyway. "A-Alpha-"

"Sh, (Y/N), you need to adjust, Omega." He purrs into your ear, but his cock twitches strongly inside you at the thought of wrecking you severely, to where no man or Alpha could ever satisfy you again. "You're like a vice, Omega, you're squeezing me so tightly. What will happen when I blow my knot, hm? You're so small, I could break you in half with it."

You let out a sinful noise that Chisaki can barely recognize as an orgasm as you sink your teeth into his neck a little. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, anchoring him to you as your walls try to milk him through your orgasm.

"I can't wait for that sound to be my name, to hear you scream so hard the walls rattle-" This kick-starts his dirty-talk again as you slowly calm down, occasionally he shifts his hips, stimulating you just enough for you to know he's teasing you again. You actually clamp down on him and he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan that could make millions, and he slowly grinds against you.

"Naughty Omega, you naughty, naughty Omega." He rumbles from your shoulder, you pant happily in his ear, every deep, slow roll of his hip making you see stars all over again. "I should punish you for that, you naughty thing."

"Then punish me." You pant in his ear, the lick up the shell of it as he groans again, pushing a little harder against you this roll, "Punish me Alpha, make me regret teasing you."

Chisaki rumbles, he drags his hips out, and you expect another languid roll that hits all the right places, but he slams into you like a bullet-train instead.

You try to gasp in surprise, but he smirks against you skin, and that is the only warning you have before he starts pistoning his hips into yours at barely-human speeds.

"Gladly, Omega."

You open your eyes, sprawled out across Ch-Kai's chest, your face nuzzled under his chin softly as he continues to sleep while fully sheathed in you. You blink slowly and lazily a few times, trying to remember what day it is, and yawn quietly as you ponder. Kai shifts under you slightly as he stirs, you gently press your face back into the comfortable position you two had.

"How long have you been awake, (Y/N)?" He purrs at you, gently nuzzling you back as you yawn quietly against his throat. "Not long, sleepy-head?"

"Of course not, or I would've brought food." You sit up a little, your fresh Mating Mark stinging slightly as part of the coverlet falls off that shoulder. Kai gently licks it, you hum and kiss the side of his face gently. "If my math is right, today is Kurono's turn to make breakfast, he usually does something simple, like Omurice."

"Yes, but breakfast requires getting out of bed." Kai mutters, gently pulling you back down on his chest, you muffle a laugh at him as he settles his chin on the top of your head. "What? Eri was right when she called you the perfect cuddle-partner, as it turns out."

#soft #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha villains #overhaul #bnha smut #mha smut #villain smut #overhaul smut #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #a/b/o

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Good morning - Harry Styles

a/n: oh wow look at me, double posting, can’t stop won’t stop. anyway, here is this lil birthday smut i wrote today, totally not while working, that would be unacceptable *cough cough*.... whatevs, enjoy and let me know what you though!

warning: it’s a smut, straight up, morning blowie for the bday boy

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

The warm morning Sun peeks through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the half open curtains giving the rays a free pass into the hazy bedroom that’s filled with warmth, sleep and little snores coming from one particular birthday boy who is turning twenty-seven today.

Harry lies on his back, one hand on his bare chest, the other one sprawled out to the side, his lower arm hidden under the pillow your head is resting on. Your legs are tangled with his long ones, one hand on his stomach, the other one tugged under your head.

You wake slowly, with each drawn breath, gradually sensing your surroundings. The rays of sunshine on your back where the sheets are not covering you, Harry’s soft puffs and snores you’ve grown to adore so much, it’s now hard to sleep without them. The touch of his soft skin under your balm and his hairy legs tangled with yours, locking them together, anchoring you to him even in his sleep.

Blinking a few times you get used to the brightness as your eyes fall on the man beside you, sleeping so peacefully. You give yourself a few minutes to adore the line of his forehead, the bridge of his nose, the curves of his lips and his chiseled jawline that’s just screaming to be touched.

You sigh, feeling so lucky and gifted to have him as the first thing to see in the mornings, his presence makes sure your day starts perfectly.

Harry hums in his sleep, his arm that’s under your pillow curls until he is scooping you closer to his side and you gladly move to lie against him, running your hand up on his chest you trace the cross pendant that lies between his chest muscles.

“Mmm,” he hums again at your touch and for a moment you think he is awake, but when you look up at his pretty face, his eyes are still wired shut, lips slightly parted. You smile at how easily he reacts to your touch even when he is asleep.

With your wandering eyes, you take in every tiny detail of his perfect body, every piece of art that’s tattooed into his skin forever, every curve, muscle and blemish, you just can’t get enough of him. And today, you are ready to cherish him more than usual. Today is his day, it’s all about your love for him and to show how happy you are that he chose to spend another year of his life with you. You still remember his last birthday at the beginning of your relationship. You were still testing the waters with each other, not entirely cozied up to each other just yet, you just knew you wanted to be together.

Now a year later, you can’t be more sure about wanting to spend the rest of your life with him, share everything with him and love him every day that you have on this planet.

Your hand slowly makes its way down his chest, gently caressing his tummy, grazing your nails softly on the lines of his fern tattoos until your fingertips reach the elastic band of his boxers. Glancing up you see that he is still sleeping and a devilish smile tugs on your lips, knowing how you want to wake your man up on his birthday.

As your palm slides further down his body, you cup his cock through the fabric of his boxers, rubbing him gently and sensually to wake his nerves up down there. His reaction is almost instant. When you slip your hand under the band he is already half hard, ready for whatever you have in your mind. You give him a few gentle strokes just to make sure his body knows your intentions before you pull your hand back. You push yourself up from your lying position and throw a leg over his waist, getting on top of him and leaning forward you put your hands to his stomach for support, your lips meeting his perfectly cut jawline as you start peppering his warm skin with chaste kisses everywhere you go. You watch his face and see that his eyelids start to move, finally opening when you’re kissing along his collarbone, down his chest.

“Mornin’,” you smile at him as his hands instantly come up to your waist. To add to the experience, you gently rock your hips, rubbing yourself against him, feeling his growing bulge push against your core.

“Oh my, good mornin’ to you as well, my love,” he smirks, closing back his eyes, lying underneath you, letting you do anything you want with him.

Your lips travel down his chest, across his tummy and you kiss every leaf of his fern tattoos before you move to the very bottom of his stomach.

“Have you slept well, birthday boy?” you ask with a coy smile when his eyes open again, fixed on you as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“Yeah. But waking up has been especially good,” he chuckles, his morning voice doing things to you without him even touching you.

“Thought you’d like your first birthday surprise as early as possible,” you grin and tug down his boxers. He buckles his hips up a bit so you can easily get rid of the clothing item, throwing it to the side.

“So thoughtful of yo—Ah!” he moans when you place a soft kiss to his pink head, hands sliding down his erected length before you grip the base and bring it up from his stomach. He is so hard and ready just for you, it waters your mouth.

“You think you’ll like my gift?” you tease him, gently pumping him, taking your time with every movement you make.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he breathes out, his eyelids are still heave from his sleep, but he can’t take his eyes off of you as you settle between his legs.

“I hope so,” you smirk before licking up his whole length, a whimper erupting from his pink lips. Keeping one hand on his base you bring your other one to play with his balls, knowing well it always drives him crazy. Your lips are not even on him, yet he is already moaning your name. He brings his hands to you, collecting your hair in his palm so he can see your face perfectly.

You wet your lips, give his head another sloppy kiss before you wrap your lips around him and start pushing your head down on his cock, his dick filling up your mouth just right as he cries your name out at the sensation.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, one hand holding your hair, the other one gripping the sheets beside him.

You start bobbing your head, going up and down his erection, taking him in as much as you can every time you go down, covering the rest with your hand, gently pumping his base. He is so big, your eyes start to water when his head pushes against the back of your throat and you thank all higher forces you’re not one to gag easily.

“Y/N, fuck! You’re killing me,” he growls, unable to hold still, his hips start to meet with your head movements, pushing himself even deeper into your warm mouth. You come up for air, moving your hand up and down his length as you make eye-contact with him. His green eyes are filled with bliss and adoration, he always looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. You take a few breaths before going down again, determined to take his whole length into your mouth at least once. So you shut your eyes and try to focus as you push your head down, his cock sliding into your mouth again, but this time you go deep. He fills your mouth completely, the head already down your throat as your nose meets his pubic bone and you keep him there for a second before coming up.

“Oh fuck! You take me so well, baby. You’re fucking amazing,” he whimpers, unable to contain himself. His chest is heaving, his whole body buzzes with his excitement so you decide to go deep again.

You take another deep breath and push your head down, nose pressing against his pelvis once, twice and even a third time before you detach yourself from him.

“Holy shit I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack,” he breathes out and you can’t push your smile down as you go back to bobbing your head like in the beginning, picking your pace up a little as you know he is close to his orgasm.

“Yes, fuck! Just like that, baby. You are doing so good,” he encourages, moaning your name as you keep sucking him off, one hand pumping on his base, the other one massaging his balls to throw him over the edge completely. “I’m gonna c-cum, fuck! You feel amazing!”

You make sure to suck on him harder when your lips slide up on his length, giving him some extra sensation before his cock twitches in your hold and he cums into your mouth, his pleasure spurting into the back of your throat.

“Baby, oh my God! I love you so fucking much,” he whimpers, his words coming out all rushed and melted together.

You let go of him with a popping sound, swallowing without a second thought as you give him a few more pumps, making sure he has ridden his orgasm out fully.

“Holy fuck!” he pants, rubbing his face with his hands, clearly awake now. You lick him off, making sure he is as clean as he can be before you climb up him, cuddling to his side with a proud smirk on your face.

“So, did you like your surprise?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“You kidding me? I fucking loved it. You and your wonderful mouth, I can’t believe you,” he chuckles softly, pressing his lips against you, kissing you as a thank you.

“Happy birthday, H,” you smile against his lips, pecking them a few more times before pulling back.

“Twenty-seven feels fucking fantastic so far,” he sighs, holding you tight to his side as you giggle into his shoulder.

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #boyfriend!harry

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

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j3ssisam3ss · 3 years

Text

Childhood Friends - Fluff

For @animebookworm16

It got kind of long and I’m not really sure it still counts as fluff, but here’s my piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25, Childhood Friends.

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was five years old the first time he met a girl his age. And in typical League of Assassins style, he went for efficiency by meeting ten at once.

“These are your betrothed,” Talia told him. “All but one will be dead by your twelfth birthday. You will marry the sole survivor on your eighteenth birthday and produce an Heir to carry on the great legacy of the League of Assassins.”

Nine of the girls heard the words without so much as a flinch. The last stared in shock at Talia, then broke into tears.

“Quiet, Marinette,” Talia hissed.

“No,” she yelled defiantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I want my mama!”

Talia backhanded her and she fell to the floor with a yelp.

Damian surveyed the girl – Marinette – with distaste.

“Mother, surely you don’t consider this sniveling coward worthy to compete for my hand?”

“Her mother, Sabine Cheng, was our best assassin for years before she turned traitor. I suppose she’s lost her touch if she raised such a weak daughter.” Talia shrugged elegantly. “No matter, if she turns out to be useless, we’ll ship her mutilated corpse back to Sabine as a reminder of what happens when you cross the League.”

She waved the girls away. “To your training now.”

Damian watched as Marinette sniffled and followed the other girls out the door.

She won’t last a week.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was five years old the first time she won a fight. And in typical Dupain-Cheng fashion, she did so in the most unpredictable way possible.

“You’re going down, pigtails,” shouted a pretty brunette, charging at Marinette with a sword that was as tall as she was.

With a startled shriek, Marinette darted away. She hated how behind she was here. Back home, she was good at everything – reading circle, art class, tussles when the teacher’s back was turned. Here, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, the constant threat of death was not fun.

Skidding around a corner of the labyrinth arena, she tripped over a protruding stone and fell to the ground. The brunette grinned viciously, advancing towards her.

Marinette smiled nervously. “Can’t we talk this out?”

“Not a chance, shortie,” said the brunette.

Marinette glanced around frantically.

I don’t want to die!

She reached for a rock, a stick, anything that could help her fight, but came up with only a handful of sand. With a pleading glance heavenward, she flung it into the brunette’s face and lurched to her feet, grinning when the girl had to stop to get the grit out of her eyes.

Taking off into the labyrinth of passages, she nearly stumbled again, this time over a nearly buried metal object.

She shifted away the dirt surrounding it and smirked. “Finally, a weapon I know how to use.”

Ten minutes later, the watching League members straightened in surprise as the smallest and weakest of Damian’s betrotheds utterly decimated her opponent.

With a frying pan.

“What are you doing here?”

The two children spoke in unison, glaring daggers at one another.

“I always come here,” Marinette said. “It’s my drawing spot.”

“The vents are my domain, Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said. “Get out.”

Two years’ worth of resentment and anger simmered beneath Marinette’s skin.

Drawing is the last thing I have of home. I won’t let him take it from me.

“No.”

Damian looked thunderstruck and Marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“I am Heir to the Demon! You will obey me!”

“You may be Heir to the Demon, but right now you’re also a kid skipping classes,” Marinette argued. “And if you make me leave, I’ll tell Talia exactly where you go when you’re not in class.”

Ha, take that, you tyrant!

Damian froze. Marinette watched as emotions overtook his face – anger, resentment, then acceptance.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Marinette smiled and returned to her sketchbook – which wasn’t really a sketchbook, just some loose papers she’d tucked into her history book.

A few minutes later, Damian peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she said, holding out a few of her older sketches, the ones she wouldn’t mind losing if Damian decided to rip them. “There’s your mother fighting, cook making soup, the sunset from this other spot in the vents – actually, that one’s pretty bad because I didn’t have any colors.”

Damian stared at the drawing of his mother.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced.

Well, at least he didn’t tear it up.

The next week, when Marinette arrived at her drawing spot, Damian was already there. With an annoyed grunt, he shoved a sketchbook and colored pencils into her hands.

Marinette looked between him and the supplies in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Teach me how to draw.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking longingly at the colored pencils. Then, she pushed them back towards Damian.

“I want you to give me weapons training. As often as I teach you drawing.”

I may be naturally talented at combat, but the other girls have been training their entire lives. I need to catch up.

Damian eyed her suspiciously. “That’s against the rules.”

“So? Are you scared?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

Damian lunged, making a displeased noise when his quarry danced out of his reach.

“You’re slow today, Dami,” Marinette teased. “Losing your touch?”

Marinette was no longer the scared little girl she’d been at five, or even at seven. She’d thrown herself into her training with single-minded determination and two years of training with Talia by day and Damian by night had made her a formidable – and snarky – combatant.

“Never,” Damian replied. His next attack nearly threw her off-balance.

With a grunt, Marinette recovered her footing and countered with a flurry of blows that would have left a lesser opponent dizzy.

Damian smirked, parrying each attack easily. “Completely mediocre. Should I tell my mother that her protégé is slipping?”

Although he’d never admit it, Damian was proud of her. She’d gone from being the worst of the League’s trainees to the only one able to keep up with him in a fight.

“Me? Slipping? Not a chance.” Marinette flipped backwards, knocking his weapon away. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Marinette?” He scooped up his katana, readying himself for her next move.

“The floor is lava.”

With a startled intake of air, he leaped onto the nearest table.

“Really?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused.

Marinette giggled, peering down at him from her spot in the ceiling rafters. “I thought we could use an extra challenge.”

Damian glanced up at her. “You just like having the high ground.”

“Technically speaking, it’s the high rafter,” she pointed out.

“Either way, it won’t prevent me from defeating you,” Damian said, pulling himself into the rafters.

At that moment, the door opened and they both immediately went still.

“Damian? Are you here?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Skipping again?” she mouthed.

Damian shrugged in response.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gestured to the vents behind him. “I’ll meet you in the lower training rooms to finish our bout.”

“Marinette!” The teacher startled as she caught a glimpse of the pigtailed girl. “What are you doing up there?”

Effortlessly, the girl swung down from the ceiling, drawing the teacher’s attention away from Damian’s hiding place.

“Just improving my arm strength, Mistress Eva.” As she distracted his teacher with false information about his whereabouts, Damian climbed into the vents.

Marinette makes a surprisingly tolerable ally.

It didn’t seem to matter how many people Marinette killed; it never got easier. Surrounded by the bodies of Deathstroke’s traitors, she retched.

She was alone. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, she’d gotten separated from the rest of the League’s loyalists.

I need to get moving. I’m an easy target right now.

With a shuddering breath, she climbed to her feet and made her way out of the compound and into the shadows. It was there, staring at the ruins of the League’s strongest base, that the realization hit her.

“I’m free,” Marinette whispered, tears trickling down her face.

The Head of the Demon was dead, his followers scattered.

“I can finally go home.”

She ignored the voice in her mind that said her home was here, with the League, with Damian. She ignored the tightness in her chest at the thought of never seeing Damian again. She ignored the fear that he might already be dead.

The League kidnapped me. Talia abused me. Even if I managed to be happy here, I owe the Al Ghuls nothing. A vow of loyalty made under duress is no vow at all.

Her hands curled into fists.

And if they come for me again, I’ll be ready.

Damian scowled as their plane descended into Gotham.

“This is imbecilic. I should be assisting you in decimating our enemies, not hiding like a frightened child.”

“Damian,” his mother’s voice was cold. “This is not up for negotiation. You will stay here and train with your father.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied bitterly. A moment passed, then he tilted his head in thought. “But what of my betrothed? If she is to be my equal, should she not train with me?”

Talia studied him carefully. “You use the singular of betrothed,” she noted. “Despite the fact that three remain alive. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which one you consider your wife-to-be?”

“Tt. Your protégé, the Cheng girl, is the only one that even approaches competent. You know this.”

“I also know that you trained her separately – against my orders,” Talia said.

Damian nearly flinched. “And yet you didn’t stop me.”

“I wonder if that was a mistake,” his mother said. “You feel more for her than you should.”

“She is an effective ally. That is all.”

“Then you won’t mind being separated from her for a while.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Damian lied.

“Marinette? Is that you?” Her mother looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Marinette smiled. “Hello, Mama.”

Sabine reached out a shaking hand to cup her face. “How are you here? We saw you die.”

“Sabine, do you know where – ” Tom dropped the pan of croissants. “Marinette?”

He jumped over the counter and raced to her. Marinette took a step back before her mind caught up with her body.

This is Papa, you idiot. He’s not a threat.

She threw herself into his arms, shoving away her fears.

Twisting to face her mother, she said, “I don’t know how my death was faked, but I never died. The League kidnapped me.”

Tom’s arms tightened around her.

“The League?” Sabine’s face went pale. “What did they want with you?”

“The usual,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Revenge on you for leaving and a capable assassin and potential wife for Damian if I turned out to be any good.”

“Who’s Damian?” Tom asked with a frown.

Marinette grinned. “Oh, Damian’s great! He’s the Heir to the League, but he’s actually pretty okay for an assassin. He helped me get good enough to survive. You know, after I blackmailed and bribed him.”

“What?”

Meeting his father did not go the way Damian had imagined.

Talia always spoke of Bruce Wayne’s great intellect, his strength in combat, his determination in all things. She never mentioned his brainless playboy act, his absurd prohibition of killing, or his habit of taking in strays. Damian wasn’t sure which one was most offensive, but he was incredibly disappointed in his father regardless.

He had to reassess after he saw Batman at work. When not purposely acting like a buffoon, Bruce Wayne was everything his mother had described and more, entirely deserving of Damian’s respect.

He set out to prove himself in his father’s eyes. It didn’t go well. Whatever he did, it was the wrong thing. In any fight with the imposter sons, Damian was punished – even if he won. Assisting his father with Wayne Enterprises was met with an eye-roll and a request to stay away from Bruce’s office.

It should have made Damian angry but instead it hurt and Damian did not understand why.

And then his father was gone. Richard Grayson became Batman.

Damian became Robin. Finally.

And yet the triumph felt hollow.

Not to mention, it came with strings attached: ‘Murder is bad.’ ‘Justice, not vengeance.’ ‘Robin doesn’t kill.’ ‘Protect rather than avenge.’

Grayson’s teachings were imbecilic. And yet he had to follow them. His mother had yet to finish with the traitors.

He wondered where Marinette was, if she was undergoing similar training, if she fought the way he did to reign in the bloodlust. Considering how she had to hide her dislike of killing, how she helped heal her competitors, he thought probably not.

Slowly, things got easier. Grayson became tolerable. Damian learned to suppress the instinct, the muscle memory that said ‘kill or be killed.’ He found an adoration for animals and learned to deal with his classmates. He finally began to understand why Grayson and his father valued life so highly. His father came back and he chose to deny the League. Wayne Manor became home.

On days when he struggled, he retreated to his room and the comfort of his sketchbook. And if a certain blue-eyed girl made an appearance every few pages, well, who would know but him?

Returning home did not go the way Marinette had imagined.

She knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and roses, of course. But she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the changes in her home, or in herself.

School was laughably easy. Marinette had the equivalent of several college degrees. Finding x and learning how to spell ‘earthquake’ was a waste of her time. Instead, she spent class drawing and coming up with increasingly complex plans for fighting off the League should they try to kidnap her again.

She kept herself closed off from her classmates – she didn’t know how she’d ever called them friends. They were neutral parties at best – not one ever stood up for her against Chloe. Her parents encouraged them to give her classmates a chance, but the League had trained her well. Misplaced trust could kill. And Marinette had fought long enough for survival to know that dropping your guard was a death knell.

She hated hurting her parents though.

Though they tried to hide it, she saw the pain cross their faces when she flinched away from hugs. When she moved like an assassin rather than a child. When she gave away her stuffed animals. When she skipped family game night and spent her time training.

She hated hurting her parents. So she changed.

Marinette locked away her lethal grace, faking clumsiness and turning it into an art form. She hid her weapons, training only when her parents were asleep. She returned to family game nights; she initiated hugs. At school, she became bubbly and friendly again, though she trusted no one.

More than anything, she tried to atone. She sought out those in need and tried to help – whether by providing food, babysitting, or making them warm clothing. She discovered an interest in fashion design, but mostly stuck to making the essentials for those in need. She met a tiny floating bug named Tikki and became a superhero.

On days when she struggled, she retreated to her room and the comfort of her sketchbook. And if green eyes and a cocky smirk featured prominently in the book, well, who would know but her?

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into Wayne Enterprises.

"I don't understand why it's so important for me to be here."

"C'mon, Baby Bird!" Dick said. "You said you wanted to be more involved in the company!"

"I meant the business side of things," Damian said. "I have no interest in showing around a gaggle of unruly teenagers."

"You're a teenager too," Dick pointed out. "It'll be fun!"

Damian sniffed. "I'm an adult. And fun, really? Surely you don't truly believe that?"

Dick sighed. "Just give it a chance, okay? They seem like really great kids."

They walked into the lobby and Damian stopped short, eyes catching on long black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"Marinette?"

In truth, Marinette wasn't all that excited about the Wayne Enterprises tour. The architecture was interesting, sure, but her class had a habit of making themselves a target and Bruce Wayne's patronage was not helping.

She gave it three days, at most, before they got in trouble with Gotham's Rouges.

Which meant she was on 'keep the class from dying' duty. Joy.

She kept her eyes and ears peeled, which meant that she heard the faint whisper of her name from an unfamiliar voice.

"Marinette?"

Forest-green eyes filled with far too much emotion had her breath catching in her throat.

"Damian?"

With obvious effort, the League's Heir pulled himself together. "Fancy meeting you here, Dupain-Cheng."

His voice. Oh, kwami, it should be illegal to look AND sound that good. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. He's an assassin, get your act together, Marinette.

"Al-Ghul." She was proud that her voice betrayed nothing. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. This doesn't seem like your scene."

She reached out for a handshake and was taken off guard when Damian kissed her hand instead. She blushed.

"It's Wayne now," Damian said. "I'm... no longer associated with the Al-Ghuls. Or their business."

He's not an assassin anymore? Yes! I knew you were a good person deep, deep down, Dami!

"Really? I broke ties with them several years ago myself."

See that, Damian? We're both good people. Good people that would be great toget - no! Bad Marinette!

Damian grinned. "In that case, I look forward to reconnecting. Perhaps after the tour?"

Oh, kwami, I'm doomed.

"I'd like that."

"What was that?" Dick asked in a low voice. "I've never seen you open up to someone so quickly."

With difficulty, Damian tore his gaze from Marinette.

Stars, she grew up gorgeous.

Damian smirked. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. I met Marinette over a decade ago."

I wonder, does she still consider our betrothal valid?

"Wait, so she's an assassin?" Grayson blanched. "Who is she here to kill? Who do I have to protect? Ugh! Why can't you ever have normal friends?"

"Relax," Damian chided. "She's an ex-assassin. Like me."

"That does not make me feel better. Who is she to you?"

Damian hummed in thought, running through years of teasing, fighting, and spending time together. "She was my first friend."

And maybe now something more.

#daminette #maribat #maribat angst and fluff april

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Text

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it.

Myself included. I am not okay. At all.

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character.

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone.

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead.

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve.

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin.

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes.

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep.

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic.

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo.....

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences.

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while.

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too.

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun.

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works.

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while.

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression.

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it.

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides.

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality.

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this.

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face.

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever.

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat.

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her?

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here?

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine.

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this.

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural.

��I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit.

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it.

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave.

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing.

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing.

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know.

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game?

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey.

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed.

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself?

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her.

This is Clementine.

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home.

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice.

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other.

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again.

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid.

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now.

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him.

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back.

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it.

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on.

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh.

She doesn’t have to run anymore.

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore.

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey.

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.”

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot.

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off.

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless.

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this.

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked.

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible.

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place.

So yeah.... there ya have it.

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg louis #twdg violet #i got mad while writing this up #i had to chill and make tea #i don't want to be mean but like.....#this comic makes me mad #it's dumb because it shouldn't make me mad but it does #and because it does that only makes me madder #hahaha #i am just not a happy camper right now #ugh #long post

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