#So much spite and curiosity went into this

[fieryland]

Smoke on the Water (Eren Jaeger)

tw stepcest, smut, scroll if you don’t like it

note I know you sluts love stepcest the most so here you go <3

wc 2.9k

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Right now, you were home from shopping with Eren. You had dragged him around left and right, made him carry your bags and slide his credit card from shop to shop. The least you could do is ask him if he wants to see everything you bought, putting on a “fashion show” for him after pushing him down on the couch. From your pretty dresses to your new lacey panties and bras. “A little much, don’t you think? Who’s all this for anyway?” eren’s fingers drag along the lace as his curiosity gets the best of him, the glow of your skin instinctively pushing against his touch.

“Why do you care so much?” you giggle “You jealous or somethin’?”

At that he doesn’t say much, the roll of his eyes and reach for his pack of cigarettes mainly spoke for him. Your parents weren’t home so he thought— hey, why the fuck not?

You plop down next to him, albeit in your bra and panties, as he rolls the filter of the cig between his fingertips. The very same ones that touched up on you a second ago. You admire your big brothers hands; large but boney, invisible remnants of your skin spreading through his fingerprints like wildfire.

He hangs the cigarette between his lips and lights it up, the spark of the lighter evaporating in some kind of slow motion. You miss the way it falls to the fur carpeting underneath you, no, you were above it now and it’s never been so clear until today. His eyebrows furrowed in relief of sucking in the smoke. His technique consisted of holding it in his mouth before inhaling— a way of emulsifying before it resounds in his lungs. He turns to you and puffs out a wave of grey air into your face.

You twist your nose in disgust. But was it at the act of smoking, or the trail of slick forming on your panties? He was your brother and all but… God, was he always this hot?

“What? You don’t like it?” he scoffs “You better not tell on me, sis, I trust you. You’ve gotten kinda cool these past few days.” Eren nods his head at the praise, his bun bumping up and down along with him. He surprisingly wasn’t wrong. He went from your typical older brother— y’know, the one that spits in your orange juice out of spite and nuzzles your face into his armpits after hitting the gym? Yeah. Well, now that you’ve given each other a chance, you noticed you actually reap the benefits of hanging out more than you’d like to admit.

Still, you decide to tease. “Uh huh, and you’re still lame as fuck.” maybe that lie was too transparent considering the fact that he flat out laughed at you. You kick his foot like some sort of brat that didn’t get her way and, shit, Eren totally thinks you’re adorable.

“You look good, though.” he takes the chance to compliment you and registers your appearance to use as jerk off material later that night. You were his baby sister but.. that didn’t seem to matter too much right now.

Suddenly, you were more aware of yourself. You acknowledge the breeze that overtakes your body and eases you back into reality, the pulse inside your ears and the stream of your blood. You were conscious, awake and alive. You felt that much more naked and Eren was that much closer to you.

Your face heats up and you cower. “Aw,” Eren coos “don’t get all shy on me now, sis.” he takes another puff before resting his hand on your thigh. A comforting habit of tapping his index finger against your skin, though it felt different now.

“It’s a good thing I’m your brother, right?” he pulls up the elastic of your underwear and watches it snap back against your hip “If someone else saw you like this,” he swallows “it wouldn’t end well for them.”

You take into account the way Eren stares you down head to toe, the parting of his lips when his eyes dart to your soiled cunt and doughy thighs. His attempt at diluting his adoration by putting out the cigarette has clearly failed.

You despise the way you were so caught off guard. I mean, this was your big brother for God’s sake. Yet, you felt as though you were a deer in headlights— as if he were pointing a lamp at your face during one of those interrogations you always see on tv. So, you step up your game.

“Don’t worry,” you roll your eyes; forcibly, but you kept your cool nonetheless. “this isn’t for anyone.”

The screaming and dark blue lighting of whatever horror movie is playing illuminates most of the living room; it being the main source of light accessorised with a kitchen lamp in the far corner is what made everything seem even more intimate with Eren. Your voice drowned out the harsh stabbing sounds of the film— those stupid sound effects you absolutely loathed were taking up the entire screen now. You think to yourself how they couldn’t have made it sound any more dramatic than it already is, but your assumptions were dead wrong.

You begin to think your response to Eren might’ve been a tricky one the minute he flashes his canine ridden smile as though you were challenging him. “Good, then,” he gives you a one-over glance with half lidded eyes “it’s just for me.”

When he turns to the movie, you catch a glimpse of his side profile. His teeth just as white that rendered you just as crazy as before— and the upturn of his nostrils that follow his smile resulted in complete static noise inside your brain. You were practically melting, and he was practically high-fiving himself for the perverted comment he managed to land onto you.

There’s never been a sincere moment where you weren’t absolutely blinded by your big brothers looks. From when you were just two little brats that chased each other around, you had a crush on him. You distinctly remember when it all started; that day you had scuffed your knees and saw the worry in his big eyes, those same big eyes that were now bloodthirsty and dark— maybe you were too small to understand what a crush truly was, but never too old to remember those butterflies that tormented your stomach.

Then there were the stages of getting older, but, you two never grew apart like most siblings. Sure, he’d slam the door on you from time to time, he was a boy after all. But ultimately he remained protective and kept you attached to his hip. You would still sit on his lap and track his hair growth over the years, as well as hold his hand everywhere you went. Sometimes, it was as if you were virtually holding his hand by the way you’d hit his line and complain about poor excuses of boys that kept making passes at you. And I mean poor, Eren had set insanely high standards for what a man should be.

To elaborate, before you entered high school, you recall a moment in which he had whispered to you ‘don’t let any boys touch you.’ Similar to what he said right before you advanced to college. So, being the good little sis you are; you comply.

And now here you were, still stupidly crushing on him and his stupid smile, his stupid hair and his stupid clothes and stupid taste in movies. The word ‘crush’ was best to describe your relationship considering the fact that the two of you had never outright done anything. You shared your first kiss together as teenagers during a night of you not being able to sleep alone, but that was it. However, there’s no denying the amounts of times you would steal his cologne, spray it on your massive teddy bear and ride it late at night. The faster Eren’s bottle began to empty, the more you did it, and the closer he got to finding out.

How he found out was entirely ridiculous.

3am, the witches hour, he had gone to rinse the cum off his navel after pumping his cock a little too hard at pictures of you. At that point, post nut clarity was a nobody to a guy like him, way different from the first time. He had primarily discerned a sick feeling to his stomach for getting turned on by his baby sister, but the more he did it, the more he needed it. He knew he couldn’t finish without you at least crossing his mind. He was fucked up, and he had just found out you were too.

Those moans, there’s no mistaking them. God, you sounded so pretty moaning his name, he almost beat his shit all over again right then and there. Yet Eren was at a disadvantage. He felt as though you had cursed him by completely closing that door of yours. Leaving him in the darkness, yet gifting him with the warmth of your moans. He still inwardly hammers himself for never getting a chance to see you. But he was here now, a spark of the flame you were igniting. Consequently, he takes his chance.

“She kinda looks like you.” head tilted in a puppy-like manner, Eren’s nose points towards a promiscuous lady in the movie. She seemed to be jerking off her male companion, unremarkably participating in a sex scene. Just what kind of horror movie is this?

Out on this scene, however, you laugh at him. “Ugh,” you land a well defended punch to his arm “God, you really are gross y’know that?”

Her head might as well be a chunk of iron is what Eren’s brain was narrating so far. He ought to think you were stupid enough not to see right through him, but you knew better than that.

You rest the subject of the matter — your head — onto his shoulder and curl up into his side. “Shut up, you love me.” His voice guides the vibrations of his body.

You decide to bring him to the test. Notably, you guide your hand underneath his shirt and to his stomach. Caught in between his bellybutton and crotch, you roll the dice.

“Mmmm, do I?” You speak closely to his neck and let your nails ruminate his skin as you glance up to him. To your surprise, he was doing so first. You didn’t even need to look at his growing hard on to notice it was there. You both knew. He felt it, you felt it. Only one of you had to speak up about it.

“I think you love me more, ‘ren.” your eyes make a quick trip to his bulge and back to him to deliver the message.

Eren was losing his mind, but not as off guard as you wanted him to be. He still had the pluck to lean into your face and grin. “Oh yeah?” he licks his lips, some sort of attempt at challenging you. “If you didn’t love me, would you do this?” his hand embraces yours before placing it right over his clothed cock. He was bold— too bold. You were beginning to understand that you’ve just lost at this lifelong game you two had going on.

Your mouth slightly parts at him keeping his hand over your very own, squeezing it in a way of taking the lead. Yet when his lips capture yours into a kiss, the squeeze remained.

Your lips moved against his and your first thought was… nothing. You couldn’t even think at this point. He tasted so good, a mix of cherry and the aftertaste of worn down smoke. You continue to grab at his crotch after he takes ahold of your face— catching a better angle at slipping his tongue inside your mouth.

You press against his bulge as you continue kissing, tongues sliding and spit almost pooling out as he reaches to unbuckle his belt and does exactly so. You pull away from each other momentarily to see the anticipated.

His dick was free, fully erect and painfully hard on his stomach, definitely huge. Everything pretty much checks out. Not just that, but it’s the biggest fucking cock you’ve seen up close; strong and tan at the base, pink and sensitive at the tip.

You accidentally wince at the sight and he scoffs with his head thrown back. “Hmm? Too big for you, baby?” normally, his shit-eating grin and know it all attitude would annoy the hell out of you, but the way he takes his cock into his hand, shakes it and gives it a few pumps makes you rock your hips into the couch cushion.

He steals another kiss before placing your hand on his dick and wrapping his around yours. He moans as he thinks finally.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” he mumbles next to you, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure of his baby sis holding his fat cock. He begins to move his hand over yours, guiding you over the incredible length of him. He leans back in to kiss you as you’re fully stroking him now— but he squeezes your cheeks as a way of getting you to stick your tongue out, and he licks it entirely before kissing you. Was it filthy? Vile? Yes, but he got off on that.

“Mm, fuck.” You whine against his lips, now pumping him up and down all on your own. “Oh fuck,” Eren groans, just barely making out with you. “Strokin’ your big brothers cock.. what a fucking whore.” he teases with a smirk of pure bliss and pleasure.

Sloppy, wet, needy and rough were the words to describe this picture perfect scenario. Kissing wasn’t a foreign act to either of you, but the whole eating-each-other-alive deed made it seem like so.

You had spit on your hand to let it glide easier, that included collecting his precum on your thumb and spreading it all over his dick. His thick cock was throbbing in your hand, leaking as desperately as you were kissing him. You felt it, all of it.

You continue jerking him off and, shit, that look on his face.

His eyes half open yet glued onto you, peeking through the hair that fell loose out of his bun, mouth slightly agape rounded with his newly plump lips due to all the kissing, and his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure created a newfound heaven right here on earth. The slick sounds of your hand moving up and down his length generated the perfect combination with his moans and sick mutters of swear words.

He bites his lip before speaking, “Oh fuck. You like that? You like my cock in your hand, baby?” he huffs and you promise, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

Erens head was in the fucking clouds, your moans and little hand around him was going to make him cum so fucking hard. It’s embarrassing, almost, how the best he’s ever cum is about to be with his little sister. Your tight grip on his cock was bringing him closer and closer to his high. Consider him a sick fuck for being so turned on by you. Sue him, even. He couldn’t care less, his baby sis just felt way better than any girl he’s ever been with.

He involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand— fucking it and still letting out deep groans that made your pussy drip and your arousal as high as it can be. You moan along with him, watching him use your hand like it was just another hole to fuck, yet you indulge by pumping him back down.

“Tight fuckin’ hand,” he speaks through gritted teeth “gonna cum, sis. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard, holy shit.” He talks and talks and talks, spits disgusting nonsense as you moan his name back at him.

“Shit, baby, this is wrong,” he claims yet he’s still chasing his high within you. “So wrong. Shouldn’t be doing this but— ah, fuck. You feel so good. Wanna make your big brother cum all over this little hand. Yeah?”

“Please, want your cum.”

At your whines and pleads, he cums. He’s spurting thick white ropes of cum all around your knuckles and fingers, they grow bubbly as you pump him through his orgasm, riding him through to the end.

Hot groans and praises drip from his tongue and beat your stomach up with butterflies. Eren looked so beautiful, his hair down and out of his bun, cheeks flushed and biting his lip when he empties his balls into your hand. Your face grows warm at the view.

He stills before your hand does, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck.” he laughs out, slightly sweaty but his worries trip over the edge and wash away as soon as he sees your pretty little smile. You were collecting the rest of his cum onto your palms and bringing it to your lips. He watched, dick pulsating and everything, as you licked it clean and sold out an unreadable expression at the taste. It was warm, weird to the touch of your throat but your taste buds registered a certain satisfactorily flavor you couldn’t quite make out. Maybe because you were aroused, or wanted to impress him that bad, either way it was worth all your efforts the minute he connected his lips with yours in the form of a deep kiss. Wild and unhinged, yes. But he messily tasted his cum off you and that was what mattered.

“Didn’t think you’d be so good at it.” He poked fun at you in this newly discovered light. You roll your eyes, back to your ‘little sis constantly tormented by her brother’ demeanor.

You were idle for now, discovering stars in each others eyes before your parents arrived home. Knowing Eren, he got horny again and you ended up getting fucked over the armrest of your couch.

No surprise, I know, in spite of that, you would always be his sweet baby sister.

[honeymoonblues]

Gossip & Giggles

Professor Remus Lupin x Professor!GN!Reader

Summary: You've gone away for the day, and Remus feels like everybody is acting strange. (Gender neutral reader)

Word count: 724

A/N: Fluffy little thing. Is implicated that the reader and Remus are in an established relationship. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

“I give him 10 minutes at most.”

“I’d say at least until he walks through the door of the first class.”

“Have a little faith! I think he won’t go five minutes without noticing.”

A few professors were clustered in the entrance of the great hall, murmuring to each other. Remus thought that was a bit odd, but didn’t question it much, it was far too early, and his hunger was stronger than his curiosity at the moment. 

When his coworkers felt his stare, they quieted down, which was even more curious. Were they talking about him? Lupin wondered. But the hot tea in his cup was much more enticing than whatever they might have going on.

His gaze was fixed at a random point of his table, his mind lost in the haze of the cold morning and the memory of you saying goodbye. 

It was much, much earlier when your owl had woken up both of you by clawing at your bedroom window. It carried bad news for you. Thankfully, nothing tragic had happened, but the letter received demanded your immediate attention. That’s how, before the sun was out, you left the castle, not before hugging and kissing Remus goodbye, of course.

Breakfast passed without giving professor Lupin much time to raise his spirits, so he walked to his first class with his mind still elsewhere. 

The students were lively, in total disregard of the early hour or the freezing weather, as expected from the second-years. When he called for their attention, however, they fell silent ridiculously fast and started to whisper to each other in a way that reminded Remus of the professors in the great hall this morning. The nervous tic in his eye started acting up, he sighed and tried to make his student’s concentrate on the class once again. 

Overall, it was an all-right lesson, even outstanding considering Remus was fighting his neck pain, five hours of sleep, and the constant gossiping the students seemed to have going on through whispers and notes for the whole two hours. 

Stretching and comforting himself, Lupin thought “the second years always have some drama to murmur about anyway”. But his next class with the fourth-years was somehow worse! 

This particular group of hufflepuffs and ravenclaws was usually quiet, so much that he had to beg them to participate. But this morning, they seemed to not be able to hold their tongues, or keep their giggles at bay. 

“What’s going on with you today!” Even Remus had to chuckle at the unusual circumstance. 

In spite of that, he took advantage of the energy in the class, and used it to make an impromptu dueling class, which would have been impossible with these students any other day.

Sitting down for five minutes between lessons, he scratched his head, in an almost meditative state. Why was everyone acting strange? Is he missing something? 

While making sure he had a matching pair of shoes, and had not magically changed his pants for a multi-coloured kilt somehow, the seventh-years entered his classroom.

The older the students, the more tired they usually are, so this class went along ordinarily. They did seem to be smiling more, and Remus thought he heard one of them call him ‘cute’, but what were the odds? 

As the hours passed, Remus felt more worn out than other days, so every little bizarre experience in class or after it, he ended up attributing to his own tiredness-induced-paranoia. 

To his heart’s content, you were back to the castle just in time for dinner. With all these odd happenings, he felt like you were gone a week rather than just a few hours, but here you were, finally. 

The silly grin he had on his face when he saw you, rapidly faltered when he noticed how you giggled at the sight of him. Merlin, you too?

Blinking slowly, he felt your arms wrapping around him.

“Hello.” his voice was muffled against your shoulder.  “I missed you.”

“I can tell, darling.” Moving away from him, you looked into his eyes and took his face delicately in your hands. “Is that why you decided to leave my lipstick mark on your cheek for today?”

Then, he laughed heartily in realization, while you wiped his face to get rid of the remnants of your morning goodbye kiss.

(i hope no one minded the concept of the reader wearing lipstick, considering it's a gender neutral reader, but i think makeup is pretty genderless! even us they/thems have to wear lipstick once in a while!)

[byeuijoo]

don't fall in love 𐀔 myung jaehyun

genre : mostly fluff, first love coded ⋆ warnings : none but reader doesn't like basketballs ⋆ word count : 1,811

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

you don't particularly like basketball. you even hate basketballs because you're always afraid of getting one in the head — boys are often far too brutal when it comes to sports, their competitive spirit often takes over, and the desire to impress others can be felt in the strength of their shot. but when the only boy who ever made your heart beat madly, asked you to come to one of his basketball practices, you didn't hesitate for a second before accepting.

myung jaehyun has always been your buried secret — of course, there were other boys you might like, but it was him you wanted. from the back of the classroom, you could spend hours admiring him (and you weren't the only one) : his smile so big and bright that it overshadowed the sun, his hair always slightly in disarray from running around like a hyperactive kid, his school uniform' shirt always a little too open and his tie undone, revealing his sports shirt normally concealed underneath, but above all, his laughter, capable of chasing away every bad vibe in the air. he was always so kind, good-humored, funny and thoughtful, helpful, and full of other positive adjectives that didn't come to mind. you always found him interesting and intelligent, and not a day went by when you didn't squint a little too long at his concentrated face during classes. he's so cute, his lips slightly pursed together and his eyebrows furrowed, all bathed in the sunlight streaming through the window. nobody ever noticed your big crush on jaehyun, not even when you can't take your eyes off him and chew the end of your pencil until it almost breaks — and if, by chance, any of your friends knew, they were good at hiding it from you.

in spite of everything, the truth needs to be told : you're one another of the countless people interested in myung jaehyun. but even though so many people have already confessed their love to him, jaehyun never really showed much interest in any kind of relationship. he seems pretty focused only on his friends, classes and basketball practice.

or so you thought.

until the day he came up to you at the end of class, catching up with you, almost shouting your name, and trotting off to reach you. you don't know what face you must have made when you saw him standing in front of you — it was either embarrassment, curiosity or shyness, or a mixture of all three. but you didn't care at that time, because the boy you'd been watching so silently from the back of the classroom was standing in front of you, more handsome than ever with his sun-drenched face and a shy smile on his lips. his hand suddenly found your wrist, and the soft skin of his fingertips sent an electric field down your arm. you looked at him with doe eyes, noticing the way his eyes kept juggling between yours and an invisible spot on his right, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

after a few silent seconds in which you simply admired his sweet face, a little too perfect to be real, jaehyun spoke up and caught your attention. « can i have you number? » he asked, so softly, his voice vibrating your heart — so much, that you felt ready to faint. nodding shyly but positively, jaehyun seemed far too pleased with your answer, handing you his phone without hesitation. grabbing it without a second's delay, your eyes were riveted on the screen, before his voice drew your attention a second time, « i'm myung jaehyun, by the way. i should have started there.. » — a slight nervous laugh left his rosy lips, which made you look up at him, a smile hanging on your lips. « i know who you are. » you answered naturally, before typing your number into the contact section, not noticing the way his eyes lit up right after your words.

« you know me..? » he asked, as if it were completely inconceivable for him to believe this new information. a chuckle slipped out of your mouth, and your eyes locked with his as you handed him his phone again. « who doesn't? » you said, and you weren't really wrong on that thing. myung jaehyun was probably one of the most popular boys at your school, as cliché as that may sound : he was good looking, captain of the basketball team, and above that, he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. jaehyun had everything to please, and that's what made him so popular. and you weren't the only one who noticed it. you had a lot of competition if you decided to seduce jaehyun, which was why you'd always stayed on the sidelines in the first place, but now, seeing him so close to you and melting under his honeyed voice, nothing made you want him more than to have him all to yourself. it's amazing what love can do to you.

a timid pink tinge clung to the apple of his cheekbones, and you swore that never in your life had you seen such a pretty boy. his eyes carried all the sun's glow, and the smirk on his lips seemed more shy and flirty than teasing. jaehyun, who always looked so sure of himself, seemed troubled and distraught, as if he didn't expect you to pay any attention to him. of course, he had already noticed some of your gazes riveted on him, your pupils burning his back, but he never had the guts to come and talk to you.

or at least, until now.

poor boy — he was too obvious, but you were too oblivious. how could you not notice that he was interested in you? jaehyun decided to change strategy when your fingers brushed his as he retrieved his cell phone, a chill running down his spine. « oh, i wanted to ask you something, » he began, regaining a certain composure and energy that you liked so much, « are you free on friday? »

staring at the sky for a few moments, you thought about whether or not you already had plans, when you knew perfectly well that wasn't the case. finally shaking your head in the negative under jaehyun's watchful gaze, you gave him a pretty smile, « i am. why do you ask? »

jaehyun seemed far too delighted by this sudden revelation, and moved a little closer to you, his hand rising close to your face. just as you thought his fingers were about to reach your cheek, you stared into his eyes for a few seconds to see where he was looking : a little higher, his gaze wandering through your hair. the next moment, his index finger and thumb grasped something in your hair — something small, fine and pink. a cherry blossom petal. watching the petal twirl between his pretty, skillful fingers, the boy finally catches your eye, his gaze fixed on yours. and when he spoke, you swore you felt like one of this female leads straight out of a kdrama, « would you like to come and see one of my games? »

the wind rustled around you, slipping between the branches of the cherry blossom trees, and suddenly, a shower of pink petals fell on your shoulders. a scene straight out of a romantic film — which made your heart beating with happiness. it was almost unreal, the timing was perfect, and the twinkle in his chocolate orbs made you want to twirl in the clouds. you weren't much of a sports fan, quite the contrary, but seeing jaehyun's bright smile on a basketball court was worth all the effort in the world. so you nodded gently, positively, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the excitement creeping through your veins.

« of course, it could be fun. » you affirmed, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear and looking away. jaehyun suddenly felt his heart racing, like when he approaches a basketball hoop and adrenaline rushes through his muscles, having succeeded in inviting you had the same effect on him as winning a match. the overexcited boy shook his head like a happy puppy, before taking another step towards you, the sudden closeness catching you slightly off guard. your eyes opened a little wider than normal, planting themselves in his, which seemed a little too unkempt for your liking. out of the corner of your eye, you saw jaehyun run his tongue slowly over his lower lip, his gaze juggling from one eye to the other with the most tender smiles on his mouth. the image of his face surrounded by cherry blossom petals remained etched in your memory, you don't want to forget the way he looks so sweet and so hot at the same time.

« nice.. » he whispered, his fingers moving to reach your cheek and graze your cheekbone with the tip of his index finger, « don't fall in love with me after seeing me play. » — after his words, your heart raced in your chest, wildly, the words stuck in the back of your throat for long moments, far too surprised by his bold declaration. you hadn't yet realized that he was actually flirting with you (or maybe you just couldn't believe it), but now you knew for sure that jaehyun wasn't messing with you. in a burst of pure courage, your fingers innocently slipped around his tie, putting it back in place as you nodded, a look of understanding on your face. then, you stood up on tiptoe and put your lips to his ear to whisper the following words, « i can't promise you anything. »

with as much good as bad, and after a light chuckle, jaehyun tried to hide the smirk on his lips, but failed miserably when your gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth the next second. the poor boy thought his heart was going to explode — but he had to remain calm and wise so as not to hurt his own dignity. nevertheless, satisfied with your answer, jaehyun offered you one of those smiles that only he knew the secret of, making your heart tremble with shyness, « good.. i'll see you on friday then? »

trying to ignore the fact that his fingers kept brushing yours, you confirmed his words before moving gently away from him, taking a few steps backwards to admire his face for as long as possible. as for him, he stood there like an idiot for long minutes, before jumping up in a victorious rush, a huge satisfied smile hanging over his mouth. oh, he can't wait to make you fall in love with him.

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

taglist ౨ৎ @leehanist @wtfhyuck @florainnie @dazzlingligth @yuma-is-mine @lilriswife4life @leehanascent @wantmatthew

[cafecourage]

Can I have some shamless Wolfie being Reader's favorite? Reader may or may not know that he's Twi, whichever is the funnier result. 😆

Oh, they know. Pinky you know how I am. This is Isekai Reader. They KNOW.

You don’t like to think you have favorite’s, well in your current situation you would like to say you love each Link equally. One Link you loved because he was the one that you first got introduced to the series, another Link was admittedly was the person that got you into the fandom and helped you make the friends you have now. So on and so forth.

Were their moments in your life that you like one more than the other? Yes. But now that you finally gotten to know all of them in this weird adventure your on. You would like to say no one is a favorite as they are all very much good friends of yours. Which is a rare thing to say as you don’t typically meet fiction characters everyday.

Though you do find yourself spending more and more time around Twilight. Probably because he also suck to you like glue but you assume it’s also because you gave away early on about how much you know. You didn’t expect Twilight of all people to be that concerned with the other heroes being wolfie. Since most of them regard him as a honorable member of the group.

Which made you extremely happy, more or less because puppy. You just want to pet the cute doggo. So when Wind’s curiosity got him to finally ask “so who is your favorite? Like before you met us.”

You look up at the sailor a bit confused, “I didn’t have a favorite.” You said as you pet Wolfie.

Wind huffs and plops down next to you, “well there has to be someone’s adventure you always went back to, to reread right?”

There was but you wouldn’t say that it was your favorite. You mainly replayed to spite the villain to see if you can kill them faster. “Well no. Thats not what I would call my favorite. So I don’t have one. I liked all of them.”

“Come on.” Wind pushed “really is there no one?”

There is a sinking feeling that Wind is going to not let this go, but you didn’t want to just choose someone on random. Also it would probably cause tension, “Well,” you look down at Wolfie. Not to put Twilight in a corner, but it’s not like Wind knows. “Wolfie is my favorite.” The wolf in question looks up at you quizzically as if to ask why you’re bringing him into this conversation.

“He doesn’t count!” Wind was pouting as he thinks about it more “does he?” He asks just to make sure.

“I mean I think he does.” You smiled and ruffled the fur around the doggo’s face. “This cutie is the best companion for Wild.”

Wild, who you didn’t realize was listening in calls out “you bet he is!”

After a bit of silence Wind finally surrenders to that answer “Fineee.” He reaches over to give Wolfie some head pats. “He is a part of the group so I guess he counts.”

[bonefall]

PLEASE make Whitewater be the one who kills Weaselkit. It would be so (tragically) cool, like just thinking about it reminds me of other amazing BB scenes like the Elderberry and Ferncloud scene but on a smaller, background character scale. It would also be a cool parallel type thing to Spiderleg who attempts to kill his son during the same battle. Obviously Spiderleg and Toadstep don’t personally care about the death of a non-Thunderclan kit, so it’s not like they would be aware of the other family murder happening, but WE would know. And we would be shitting our pants. (I’m a sucker for generational trauma and parents failing to protect their children in fiction please mister bonefall)

I HAVE to do it. It fits too well. It's absolutely shockingly tragic and horrrible. Hell opened up and Owlclaw's worst nightmare came lunging out. I have so many thoughts.

Owlclaw has had a whole life dealing with the neglect and abuse he went through, taking it out on others as a bully, and it's only now seeming to get any better

Mentor Oakfur being even more of a parent to him than any other apprentice he's had, knowing Owlpaw needed it.

Whitewater had FINALLY died. It hurt like nothing else, because in spite of everything he loved his mother... but he was FREE

And maybe she was, too. Maybe in StarClan she could watch over him, perhaps now with distance her memory can be something positive.

There was a time he might have wished suffering on her. But he's going to be a dad, now. He's learned that holding onto grudges never seems to do anything constructive.

He started his new life with Pinenose, still in their honeymoon phase. They're a young couple and everything is moving fast, they're welcoming two little twins.

Weaselkit and... Happykit. He still thinks it's silly, but he said it as a sardonic joke because he couldn't think of a good name and Pinenose beamed. How could he burst her bubble?

He has NO idea that his mother didn't ascend to StarClan. Shes doonstairs. He's daring to assume the best, and she's embracing the worst.

She doesn't need long to be completely onboard with Tigerstar's scheme. She didn't even need a discussion with Hawkfrost. The only reason StarClan would throw her down here is because there's a problem.

So, she'll put it right.

The IMMEDIATE validation she feels seeing Harespring training in the Dark Forest is intoxicating. They ARE cursed!! One of them already found its way here!

(AND the spawn of that damn TRAITOR, Crowfeather. The bastard who betrayed Mudclaw's coup.)

Harespring started training here out of curiosity, and a speck of heresy to be totally honest. He wanted to know his biofather, Mudclaw, and StarClan couldn't be all that wonderful if it would allow his brother Kestrelflight to be forced into the Cleric's den so young.

But NOW, having met Mudclaw and hearing his side of the story, and now WHITEWATER landing here as well...

...he has never had stronger faith in StarClan before. Mudclaw was horrible enough. Whitewater is unhinged.

There is no doubt in his mind that these two belong here. The sad stories are outweighed by cases like these, so in his opinion, there SURELY must be things he doesn't know about innocuous cats like Houndleap and Featherwhisker.

He hates coming here, every moment he's trapped with one of his bioparents is a moment he wishes he was spending with papa Torear.

Harespring betrays the Dark Forest the minute he has a chance to. But it doesn't stop Whitewater.

Weaselkit's death happened so fast and they were so young that Happykit can barely remember it. Was it after Dustpelt crunched? ...he thinks it was during.

I can't imagine Happykit will be told about Whitewater until he's much older, but... he knows Weaselkit's death is what drives the wedge between his parents

(Of course that's too simple to be correct. Happy's smart in the way that you get when you have to grow up quick, but still a kid at the end of the day. Owlclaw backslid into old, destructive ways. Pinenose can't handle him and their child and her grief at the same time. They were a young couple to begin with. It shattered like glass.)

I'm not sure who dealt with Whitewater during the Battle of the True Eclipse, but she is definitely double dead. Part of me wants to make it Spikefur, Pinenose's next mate. But Owlclaw dealing with his mother a minute too late, after FINALLY finding peace with it all, is also gut-wrenching.

[spdrvyn]

mr. spider and his journalist

you and miguel are rivals on the surface, but there's an irrevocable bond that exists between the two of you when you read between the lines.

injuries. implied wound patching. fluff. hurt/comfort. suggestive. happy valentines, folks!

The fast-paced and riveting action, joint with the simple adrenaline of describing an intense scene was what drew you to this job in the first place. Journaling wasn't easy, while you were no superhero, you were still somewhat putting your safety on the line to witness two adults in skin tight suits and superpowers throw hands at each other.

In spite of everything, you loved your job.

Your name had reached every single article that average Nueva York citizen could even think to get their hands on, your name befell the mouth of every employee in your building whether it was in praise or malice. You didn't care, all that mattered to you was that you were truly out there.

Although, your workplace wasn't the only area of your life where you were severely disliked. Even as you went out and about to record and detail on the spectacles and heroic gestures in this city, its top vigilante still glared at you with ire through his mask.

He was a spider, you were a pest.

Spider-Man had fought many impeccable foes over the years, battled by a villainous organization that was out for his blood in an almost literal sense. Not to mention that he was hurtling fate's delegated task of protecting a multiverse which each had a different version of this maddening, web-weaving hero.

It wasn't like he could bring himself to actually express his distaste towards you, but it was hard to mask his annoyance when you immediately came flocking to him with borderline intrusive questions about his life outside of his work.

After the precipice of disaster subsided once each fight had concluded, the snippiness of your tone as you wrung out questions brought the crowd of clamoring reporters to a halt.

Miguel had to swallow his intrigue time and time again, he'd tried to acknowledge a long time ago that surely you were just another journalist seeking out to actually making something of yourself. But your passion was the flint that sparked his curiosity about you, it was a weakness. He couldn't allow his poise to be wavered by someone like you.

Someone so eloquent and composed, someone so witty and humorous, letting himself get bested by you would be the biggest blow to his massive ego. It would be nightmarish to even approximate the possibility of Miguel having some sort of interest towards you.

You'd already come to your senses a long time ago.

It was silly, really. Obviously you'd discover these underlying feelings for him, why else would you practically be clinging to his side post-mission? Why else would you publish so many stories and reports about his daily miscreancy? A 5th grader could figure it out.

There was so much you knew, that you really shouldn't have. There were details about his life that have retained in your mind, but you didn't even know his full name.

"No further anomalies, Miguel. I'd suggest checking diagnostics though, anomaly activity in this dimension has been active as of late."

Miguel groans, running a hand across his face despite his mask. "Uh huh, right." He doesn't need anymore on his plate right now, for all he could care, you were probably hiding around in a little corner somewhere.

"So it's Miguel?"

Fuck, he really hated being right. And not having a spider sense, that too. "Ay, mierda!" He jolted, you bit on your lip to conceal your giggles. Seeing someone as big as Miguel get startled out of his mind was a little funny. "Do not keep that detail in your little article."

"What kind of person do you think I am, Miguel?" Ugh, he hated the way you say his name even more. "Tu secreto es mi secreto, no need to worry about it. But if I could get a last name too, that would be-"

"Alright, get away from me."

He still remembered the way you chased after him as he approached the edge of the battered rooftop, clutching at his forearm. You'd pester him for details, the most intricate ones, even when he knew that he could just zip right out of there, you always found a way to make him stay. Every single time.

The stirring way that you were always able to show up after nearly every mission he's had, your very presence emanating even when deep into the crowds of people surrounding the scene.

But you didn't show up this time.

Don't call for backup, he'd insisted. A stupid, moronic decision that was because now he was crawling his way, bloody and bruised, throughout a sopping wet alleyway that definitely wasn't only soaking with just the rainwater.

There was no crowd this time, there was no you to be found. He would have noticed a hundred miles away otherwise, his watch had damaged in the aftermath. Narrowly escaping by a hair, he growled frustratedly as the furious taps of his fingers against the small screen didn't register. His talons took the rear, scratching against the tiny panes of glass and only breaking it further.

At that point, there was no more reason to be angry. What's done is done, he fought his battle, he didn't lose, but he wouldn't consider this a win either.

The nano-fabric, originally designed to be as comfortable as can be for your regular vigilante activities, now felt like it clung uncomfortable to Miguel's skin. Sticky, grimy, and bloody. His chest heaved with the effort to just keep breathing, his large frame now so small as he slumped against the rough wall of the alley.

He wondered what you'd say right now, if he hadn't been caught in this blunder. You'd be asking him, what the anomaly looked like, if they were from a different era, their powers, how did he defeat them? So on and so forth, but your absence was more than enough of a bad omen for his failure.

The sound of your voice wasn't something he thought he'd miss, your annoying comments, your inquisitive glances, that sparkle in your eyes whenever he started talking. All those lovely details he'd lost to snide replies and swift conversation enders, he closed his eyes, it was childish to hold onto hope, but maybe thinking about what you'd say, what you'd do, would motivate him to get up. Get away.

Miguel, I honestly just don't know you do it, you would say with a sarcastic rise in your tone.

Say, how does your suit even work? I mean, I know it's nano-tech, but I'm no scientist of any sort. You'd ask, all while poking and prodding at the technology. A privilege he only allows you to have.

I don't know what to do with you, how am I supposed to help when this thing doesn't even have a damn zipper! The frustrated grind in your voice says it all.

Don't die on me, please. I'm sorry if I'm a thorn in your side, okay? I'll stop, just wake up! Wake up, please. You begged, a desperation sewn deeply with the way you grasped at his bandaged hand.

When did he get here?

His body still hurt like hell, trying to get his neck up straight was like having needles straight into the muscles. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he sees is your eyes. Puffy, swollen, and red from crying, your mouth stuck in a pout, quivering from the amount of sobs that you've let out. Your grip on his hand loosens upon his awakening, you can't hug him without risk of hurting him, so you simply lean in closer.

"You're alive," it's said a lot calmer than the hysterics you were spewing a while ago, a relieved smile gracing your features. "I- I didn't kill you, you're alive!"

The joy rushes into your voice, you're practically vibrating with happiness while trying to fight back the urge to swoop him in your arms. Miguel would, but for obvious reasons, he won't.

"Why would you have killed me?"

"I'm not a science person, how many times do I have to tell you?"

He doesn't bother quipping back, he hums, looking down over at the exposed parts of suits, pushing the blanket you set on him aside to discover that everything was cleaned and patched and stitchedto near perfection. "So you're not a nurse or a science person, but you can fix wounds like no other."

"This is a common book trope, considering how I'm closely tied to a superhero, I feel like being a fixer-upper is a requirement."

"Closely tied?" He says, unamused.

"We'll have to be now! I can't have you scare me like that, I won't ask you any questions for a month as long as I don't see you in any dark alleys all hurt looking." You harumph, you see him press a spot below his ear and all of a sudden-

His mask disengages, fabric disappearing seamlessly as his face is miraculously bestowed onto your gaze. Warm skin from the ambient lighting set to accomodate his hypersensitive senses. Curly and deep brown hair, all mussed from his scuffle. A set of dark crimson eyes that look a beautiful chestnut if you really look from a different angle, you forget to breathe.

"Thank you, but don't get too excited. Consider this a treat for taking care of me," he returns to that sense of stoicism, but your jaw is unfortunately still agape from how awe inspiring he truly is. Now, you'd have to imagine this face every time you even so much as wrote the word spider down.

"I, uh, yeah. Sure,"

This is the first instance he's ever had you so silent. You trekked around your flat for different foods you could feed him, brewing him too many cups of tea to count. You barely even made small talk, it was astounding to him.

He left soon after, the super healing abilities work bound to have started working more efficiently anyway. You bid your goodbyes to him, it was as if you still had the moment of shock written all over your face when he revealed his face to you.

The days that followed were odd, he didn't find himself in any sort of kerfuffle that involved him to be severely injured anymore, but when he noticed you in the crowd, you tended to shy away. You didn't even try to follow him afterward to pester him for details on the battle, there was something so off about it.

So Miguel decides to talk to you about it.

You were idly typing away, contained in a small office from the rest of the room. The chatter from your coworkers were your white noise along with the near silent clicks of your keyboard, the process has you so out of it that you don't pick up on the reflection of navy blue and bright red on your computer screen.

"You," grumbles Miguel and this time, you're started.

"Oh, shock. What are you doing here?" That boisterous confidence you always carried with you had gone mute, all Miguel saw was a drained creative and it made his blood boil.

"Why haven't you been," he doesn't want to say it. Don't make him say it. "Talking to me?"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, quirking your brow up. Miguel disengages his mask again, you'll never get used to that. "I- what do you mean by that exactly?"

"You know, don't you normally- ask more questions? After I take care of business?" Miguel despises how needy he sounds right now. Please talk to me and keep annoying me, for I miss it so dearly.

"I thought you hated that," your voice drops in volume. "I just thought since the thing that happened that you'd want me to leave you alone for a while."

The absurdity of your statement had him reeling, the reason why he didn't die that night was because of your allergy to negligence, how the thought of even leaving him alone would make you sick to your stomach as you so described. Now, you were giving him distance?

"No," he walked even closer to you, cornering you against your desk and causing you to shrink in your small swivel chair. "You don't get it, do you?"

You shake your head hesitantly, it's too hard to focus. You've touched him before, but never has he actually initiated it. He was mere inches away from you, whether you should focus on not looking like a freshly plucked tomato or his handsome face was between you and God.

He lets out an irritated chuckle, the gleam of his canines prominent from the light of the monitor behind you. "Has it ever struck you in that head of yours that I like talking to you?" He places a hand on one of your arm rests. "That I enjoy your sass, your passion?"

There's that funny feeling again, that feeling from when he revealed himself to you. Discovering such a big revelation from Miguel, something you've dreamed of nearly every night, but now that it's in the palm of your hand, you can't bring yourself to think properly.

"But I– I thought that–"

"It's a yes or no question, hermosa. Answer it."

"No."

The back of your chair hits the wood of your desk as Miguel pushes you, he dwarfs your suroundings, his presence much larger now that both of you are in a place so confined. Now that he wasn't "couchridden". At this proximity, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat.

"Think again," his other hand moves to tug on your bottom lip as he clashes his own against yours, your whole body tenses and for a split second, he thinks he's seriously messed up this time, until you groan into his mouth and that thought is straight out the window.

Your hands map out his body, from the broad shoulders, tracing the muscle connecting them to his neck, then to the soft hair that you've been dying to touch ever since you've laid your eyes upon it. Your fingers ultimately find home in the curls at the ends.

It's almost filthy. His other hand now trailing down to your neck, wrapping deft fingers around your throat and it causes you to arch your back into him.

He uses his grip on you as leverage to separate, left panting and with a memory to use for later.

"We should get dinner sometime,"

"When are you free?"

"Friday. 7PM."

"Okay," and you lean in to kiss him again.

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

I love your animatronic toy OC guys so much, they have so much personality to them and their colours are really good (especially umbra)

Thank you! The funny thing about Umbra's design was that while I was developing it about two years ago and had some colors in mind, I described in text what I already came up with to an image generator for fun (shitty unconvincing old kind, vs now where it looks like shit but in a somewhat more convincing way) and it produced something so silly that I made her design better than what I would've settled with out of spite.

More details of my process and anti-AI ranting below the cut, so the examples given won't show up on search results. Google Images is getting polluted too much with slop to begin with.

Let's begin.

In 2022 I was drafting up Umbra's design with mostly concrete details. At this time image generators were newer and much less convincing, and I was a bit less aware of just how unethical they were, so I fed one a text description of what I had drafted for her design out of curiosity. Something along the lines of, "doll of an anthropomorphic owl librarian in glasses, blazer/suit jacket, skirt, corset, high heels, sitting on a bookshelf" and probably a few more terms. Really specific, lengthy prompt.

I try to be open-minded and give new things a shot, but the results were Not Great. Ideally, I'd want to not share the AI pictures at all on-principle, but I feel like it's useful, transparent, and necessary to show them. Both as a means of not hiding anything, but also just to appreciate where the design is at in spite of it.

Outside of this particular collage of Weird Owls, no other pictures on this blog are AI-generated. AI Image Generation is harmful, and I am against its usage.

But hey, two of the generated pictures look close, right? The top left is the closest, and bottom right is second.

That's because they started out worse, and I had to actually erase chunks of them and have the generator fill in the blanks to get anything remotely close to what I wanted. Misshapen limbs, unrecognizable anatomy, fever-dream clothing details, etc. They didn't even have a corset or proper legs until I slapped the generator in the face enough times to make it produce them. I was just using it to photobash, which was such an annoying process, I just went "this is dumb" and stopped. They're literally posed like that because I kept erasing and regnerating their limbs until they looked vaguely in-character. It literally only looks passable thanks to STRANGLING it with human input.

Before I used the image generator, I already drafted her to be night-themed with yellow eyes and something like purple, dark blue, or sky-blue as her main color; the generator making one owl yellow-eyed and purple was a happy coincidence, and the only thing the generative AI "came up with" that I didn't already have in mind or included in the prompt was the light blue shirt, which I did adapt into her cyan shirt and stockings/socks as well. That was a good call. You get One Point, Mr. AI.

...Which still meant that at its absolute best, it was a largely redundant step in the creative process if its contribution was worse than what a randomized palette generator or character creator could come up with.

That's already putting the ethics of it aside, like carbon emissions, data pollution, using artists' and photographers' work without credit or permission, the incentive to plagiarize, flooding sites like deviantart with slop, Willy Wonka Shit, etc etc etc. When people say "you can use AI as a tool though", this ordeal was enough to convince me that it's more trouble than its worth, even in its most ethical usage. I feel gross for having even tried. I wish I knew what sources went into the creation of those Weird Owls. It'd be better for research if the right people could be credited.

Nothing else on this blog is AI-generated or ever will be. The art below is purely my own (2022 vs a few weeks ago)):

Actually drawing Umbra and solidifying her design was far more rewarding than having an image generator vaguely approximate my own ideas. I wanted her to look really special, so I used a black cape and pants, gold highlights and buttons, and blue undertones to make something more distinct. Also, neck floof. Very important. I wanted the head in particular to look distinct and original, going with bold black streaks to really help her look distinguished.

I also have certain inevitable Hydroisms for Fancy characters like her; most apparent in these designs for Chasey and Kaita from even longer ago, which were more of an influence than anything else. (Old art of mine from like 2021, Kaita ref looks wonky but Chasey still holds up nicely):

Most of Umbra's other design elements were already commonly used with established ocs like Kaita, like her shape language, corset, skirt, heels, etc. It was my previous work with Chasey that inspired the use of gold buttons and highlights.

Umbra is also now a bluer shade of purple partly to distance the current design from that ordeal. All things considered, I'll probably make her more indigo next time. I already wanted her to have a wide color range from the get-go (Featured below is, again, purely my art from 2022:)

I may use a different colored shirt and stockings in the future. I like to think she has many different shirts and clothes based on the different stages of the night sky, from dusk to dawn, and the painting I made in the top right there was an exploration of her range in different lighting.

All in all, it's frustrating. I'm proud of her design, but explaining all of this is annoying, because it's technically all relevant to showing how her colors were picked and how the design was made. I still technically have AI to """Thank""", in the way you thank a bad experience for encouraging you to make things better out of spite.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

So, your requests are open, huh? Cool, could you write a shinoby x demon reader who feasts off of strong negative emotions? And that's why they're so attracted to Shinobu? Enemies to lovers fluff is always the way to go :>

Bottomless Well

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Demon Reader

A/N: AAAAHHHH so much longer than I would have liked but it’s finally done! Sorry if there are more errors than usual, tumblr is breaking because of how long this is. Anyways, enemies to lovers with a bit of angst but it all works out in the end thanks for reading, hope you like it! Word Count: 5,928

There was a sense of danger that clung so thickly to the air that (Y/n) could taste it. Normally, they would make themself scarce when the presence of a skilled demon slayer was felt, but the taste of danger wasn’t the only thing the demon could feel sparking against their tongue.

A deep-seated hatred, disgust and coveted anger that seemed to know no end. (Y/n) wasn’t even close enough to feed off of the feelings properly, and yet they could feel themself growing stronger. It had been weeks since they had found someone suitable feed off of, and whoever was sharing this mountain path with them tonight could easily sustain them for the next thousand years.

Their curiosity outweighed their sense of caution. They needed to see the vessel of these powerful, negative emotions. They had never tasted such flavors at this intensity before. Even at the risk of their head, it would be worth it to trail this human at least until they made it to Tokyo. The big city promised an abundance of bitter souls to draw energy from. Though compared to the extraordinarily deep well of this single human, (Y/n) thought that even the entire population of Tokyo would be lacking in comparison.

They tip-toed from tree to tree, slowly gaining on the soft footfalls shuffling the dried leaves that littered the rugged earth. A tentative peek around a sturdy pine revealed the back of a small woman, hair tied up with an ornate butterfly clip, sheathed blade peaking from beneath her haori as it billowed slightly in the breeze.

“Wow,” (Y/n) murmured, “how does someone so small carry so much spite?”

The woman paused, and (Y/n) ducked back behind the tree trunk before they could be spotted. They held their breath until they heard the woman start walking again. They waited until the footsteps began to fade before picking up their pursuit once more.

They were delighted to find that when dawn threatened to light the sky, the slayer decided to rest. Hopefully she would rest most of the day, that way (Y/n) could easily catch up to her again when the sun went down once more, though now that they had honed in on the anger this woman kept, she’d probably need to travel at least halfway across the country for (Y/n) to lose her now.

The woman took a spot where the sun would would make first contact and (Y/n) took cover beneath the thick pine trees, close enough to study the woman further, but not close enough to be discovered, hopefully.

(Y/n) keen ears caught the woman’s tired groan. She leaned forward and rubbed at her face and (Y/n) hummed sympathetically. They wondered how long the slayer had been on the road. Where did she come from and where was she heading? Was she on her way home or was she heading towards her objective?

(Y/n) continued to ponder these questions, among others, as they watched the slayer rest in the sunlight for the next several hours.

“Finally!” (Y/n) stretched and stumbled out of the thick woods when the last sliver of sun faded away.

The demon slayer had left about an hour before sunset so they had some ground to make up. However, that distance was easily closed since they were energized by the their previous proximity to the woman’s fury.

They knew they were close when they heard metal scraping against metal and a wild yowl. (Y/n) spied on them from behind a grove of bushes. The demon slayer was fighting a lone demon and by the looks of it, she would easily win. Her movements were methodical and at first (Y/n) wondered what the point of those quick jabs were, but it soon became clear.

“Poison?” They marveled, watching the other demon collapse and choke with morbid fascination. That woman was really not one to be trifled with.

They watched her flick the blood from her blade, but then their eyes wandered beyond the butterfly woman to the tree limbs above.

“Above you!” (Y/n) shouted spontaneously, ducking below the shrubs, placing their hand over their mouth much too late to be effective.

The demon slayer’s head jerked to where (Y/n) hid within the bushes before craning up to the trees, finding two more demons who screeched angrily upon being discovered. They descended upon the demon slayer, but as with their fallen companion, they stood no chance. With impressive speed, the slayer disposed of them both.

She flicked her blade clean once more and dutifully checked her surroundings, including the bushes, but found nothing.

“Hello? Where did you run off to? You can come out, I don’t bite.”

Somehow after watching her kill three demons without breaking a sweat, (Y/n) found that hard to believe. Especially if she found out they were a demon as well. Since those deaths by poison seemed less than pleasant, they would stay hidden.

It took a minute, but the woman finally shook her head and sheathed her sword, then went on her way. (Y/n) peered around the rotted tree they had crouched behind and watched her go. When her back was swallowed by the shadows of the trees, they began their pursuit once more.

For a demon slayer so full of hate, her voice sure was soft.

Another day another night, (Y/n) followed the slayer across the countryside. In another couple days, they would arrive in Tokyo. (Y/n) was almost sad to be losing her unaware companion, but it was a dangerous game they had been playing and the slayer seemed to grow more paranoid as the hours dragged by.

Another nightfall, another night of playing catch up, yet something felt different about this night. It seemed like the demon slayer hadn’t made it very far at all despite leaving before sunset as she had done previously.

(Y/n) grunted, mildly annoyed. The slayer’s essence seemed to follow no set path, it surrounded them like a fog. They closed their eyes and parted their lips, inhaling deeply to try to find the thread of where the negative emotions were strongest.

Finding a promising lead, they followed, the negative emotions grew stronger, but (Y/n) had yet to catch sight of the slayer again. Then they saw a strange shape hanging from a tree branch and went to investigate it. On closer inspection they saw that it was the demon slayer’s haori.

“What the hell is she up to?”

And then (Y/n) suddenly found themself in the dirt their arms pinned painfully against their back.

“So my suspicions were correct.”

(Y/n) grit their teeth in pain and twisted their head to the side to look up at the demon slayer they had been trailing for the last handful of nights. A knee dug further into the base of their spine, a warning not to make another move.

“How long have you been following me exactly, demon? And to what end?”

Well this was intimidating. (Y/n) had known they had been playing with fire, but they weren’t dead yet. The demon slayer had made a mistake by not running her poisoned nichirin through them the second she had the chance instead of choosing an interrogation. Had she discovered them on the first night, she could have done away with them just as easily as those other demons from a few nights prior, but since (Y/n) had harvested a steady intake of the plentiful negative emotions lurking within her, they were leagues stronger now. But they would let the slayer think she had the upper hand for the time being. They weren’t too confident they could free themself without accidentally hurting her. They were unused to being so strong.

“It’s been a little less than a week, but I meant you no harm.”

“Am I really supposed to trust the word of a demon?”

“Well, why’d you ask if you aren’t going to believe me anyway?” (Y/n) retorted with snark.

The knee at their back added more pressure and their arm bent at an even more uncomfortable angle.

“Ah! Hey, take it easy!”

“Then explain yourself.”

“I’m trying! But you aren’t a very good listener!” (Y/n) huffed. “I was only following you until you got to Tokyo, or until you got off the path at least.”

“Tokyo?” The demon slayer was unmoved, “Fancied yourself a feast, did you?”

“Truthfully, yes, but probably not in the way you’re imagining. I get all the energy I need feeding off of the negative emotions of humans. You carry a very substantial amount, ergo, why I chose to follow you. There really isn’t anything else to it.”

“Again, I find that hard to believe. I doubt these negative emotions you chase are organically occurring. Do I look like I harbor anything of the sort?” The woman’s smile was sugary sweet, but (Y/n) was not at all fooled.

“Oh come on! You are a blistering inferno! I don’t know who hurt you, but they hurt you badly. You probably know more than anyone that there is plenty of grief and fury in the world. I don’t need to harm anyone to find someone upset with their lot in life. They’re an ordinary occurrence. But I have to say, I’ve never met anyone like you before. Your well is bottomless.”

The demon slayer hummed, but by her eyes alone, (Y/n) could tell she was still doubting them.

“Demon,”

“My name is (Y/n).”

“Demon,” the slayer began again, “how many people have you killed?”

What an unfair question! You’d be hard pressed to find a demon who hadn’t killed or maimed at least one human before they gained some control and introspection.

“I haven’t killed anyone, but I did severely injure a friend of mine at the time when I first turned. I’m not trying to excuse what I did, but—“

“Would you say you attacked them with the intention to kill?”

“I wasn’t myself, like I said I had just—“

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

(Y/n) heard the scraping of a blade leaving its sheath and decided the time to act had come.

With a careful kind of strength and speed, they flipped the script on the slayer, pinning her to the ground in a similar position that they had been in seconds before.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn to talk!” (Y/n) growled. “Yes, I hurt someone I cared about. The fear and pain and betrayal they felt fed me more than the chunk I took out their wrist. But I don’t fondly look back on it as one of the ‘best’ emotions I’ve fed on. When I think of them, it’s about how they tried to help me and I repaid them by shredding their tendons. How they probably had to give up on their ceramist apprenticeship because of me. I left them every yen I owned, but I know it will never make up for what I did.

I haven’t hurt anyone since. In fact, I usually go out of my way to help people when I can. Like when I warned you about the demons about to pounce on your head the other night.”

“How do you help people when you feed off of their misery?” the slayer asked. Her voice though soft, held an undertone of bite to it.

“By feeding off of their misery.” (Y/n) went on to explain further, “I’ve discovered that if I feed on the negative emotions of a single person long enough, their well dries up. Not permanently, but until the next upset comes along at the very least. That’s why I want to go to Tokyo, there it’s always something.”

“You’ll make it to Tokyo over my dead body.”

The slayer’s voice sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine. They felt her shift her legs beneath them and heard a dual schwing! behind them, giving them enough time to narrowly dodge the knives that had apparently been built into the slayer’s footwear. She was very resourceful, they’d give her that much.

“Alright, knife shoes, that’s enough for me!” (Y/n) shouted, jumping back several feet, “This will be where we part ways. Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but actually having to talk to you was not a treat!”

(Y/n) darted away, really putting their newly invigorated speed to the test. All was well for but a few minutes before the slayer was soaring at them with all the force of a speeding bullet.

“Holy fuck!” (Y/n) felt the displacement of the air as the sword nearly grazed their cheek. “Holy fuck she’s fast!”

They pin-balled through the forest and it almost looked like the slayer —who just had to be a Hashira, had to be!— had (Y/n) right where she wanted them. The edge of a cliff.

“End of the line.” She drawled, fake smile holding on for dear life.

(Y/n) noticed the slayer’s apparent exhaustion and frustration, and smirked.

“Maybe for you, but if you took the time to actually listen to anything I told you, you would know I’m at the strongest I’ve ever been right now and that’s all thanks to you.” They slid their heel over the edge of the craggy cliff, “Not that you’ll believe me, but I promise to use this power for good as long as I have it. Bye-bye, Butterfly Girl.”

“Don’t move!”

But (Y/n) had already fallen. Wasn’t the most graceful dive, but they made it to the river far below relatively unscathed as far as demons go, and with the speed of the water’s flow, they would be long gone before the demon slayer safely made it down.

Shinobu clenched her fists to a knuckle-white hue as she watched the demon float away. They stuck their tongue out at her mockingly before they disappeared around the bend. Taking advantage of her solitude, Shinobu swore,

“Damn it!”

She had never been so embarrassed! If the other Hashira found out about this, she would never hear the end of it. That demon wasn’t even part of the Moons! She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then another. She fixed her hair back into place, her mind already made up. She would kill that demon after she had some time to recoup after spending so much time away from her estate.

“Run all you like, but I know where I’ll find you.”

***

“Oh! Missed again Bu-Bu, you’ll have to do better than that!” (Y/n) taunted.

“I will be sure to make your demise the most painful I’ve ever crafted.” Shinobu smiled tightly, veins fit to burst.

(Y/n) just had to learn her name after months of this cat and mouse chase and craft the most asinine nickname Shinobu had ever heard. Even Kanae would have known better than to ever utter something so childish.

“Sure, as you said the last time you made the trip to Tokyo, and the time before that, and the time before that—“

Shinobu pulled a throwing knife from her sleeve and tossed it at (Y/n) with wood splintering speed, luckily (Y/n) saw it coming, despite it being a new trick Shinobu had brought along. Shinobu grit her teeth together. No one could bring her fury to the surface like (Y/n) could.

“Don’t you think you’ll ever grow tired of this? Don’t you have more important things to do?” (Y/n) sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to your visits but I can’t help but think your time would be better spent elsewhere.”

“It is my duty as a Hashira to destroy every demon the crosses my path, and that is just what I’ll do.” Shinobu dropped down I to another stance and burst forward in hopes of scraping (Y/n) just the tiniest bit, that’s all she needed! But again, (Y/n) avoided her.

“Come on, Bu-Bu, I’m sorry that I’ve damaged your pride time and time again, can’t we just start over? I think we’d make a pretty good team in all honesty.”

And (Y/n) was serious. Try as they might to dislike Shinobu, whenever they felt her arrival in the big city, they always went looking for her. They just couldn’t help but be drawn to her and the angst she shouldered. As hard a time as they liked to give her, they thought Shinobu was rather remarkable.

“Call me that one more time.” Shinobu dared.

“…Bu-Bu— AH!”

Shinobu pelted a barrage of knives and needles at (Y/n)’s retreating back as they sprinted and dove out of the alleyway, startling a pompous looking rich couple strolling down the street.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me! Trying not to die!”

***

Shinobu didn’t know what to do. She hated to even consider the possibility that this was a battle she could not win. She accepted long ago that (Y/n) really did feed off of the negative emotions of others and since that was the case, it was very likely that she could not be the one to kill the demon, simply because her well was much to deep. It pained her to say that (Y/n) was correct. As long as her anger remained unchecked, she could not defeat them.

Maybe it would be best to hand this self-imposed task to someone else. Kanao could probably overtake them… but Shinobu knew she would not be satisfied unless she ended things on her own terms. How could she lessen the hate within her so that she could utterly destroy (Y/n)?

Then Shinobu got an idea. A new approach. An insane approach.

What if she made an effort to befriend the demon? Maybe she could trick herself into lessening that hatred. Shrinking her well and thereby weakening (Y/n) enough to possibly defeat them on her own. At this point, she had no other options but to cut her loses and try to forget the infuriating demon and Shinobu was no quitter.

With that, she began planning her next trip to Tokyo with a renewed vigor. Who knew killing someone with kindness could be taken so literally.

***

“So let me get this straight…” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck, “You want a tour of the city and you want me to give it to you.”

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

“I was just thinking it’s been such a waste chasing you around. I’ve been all over this city but never stopped to take it in. You’ve been living here for months now, so I figured you could show me around. Does that not sound favorable? Didn’t you say you wanted to extend an olive branch?”

(Y/n) hummed, amused, “Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate scheme you are trying to pull that’ll render me worm food?”

No. “Yes, no tricks. I promise.” Shinobu held out her hand, then subtlety rolled her eyes when (Y/n) eyed the limb suspiciously. She rolled up her sleeves, “Completely bare, see?”

(Y/n) pursed their lips in thought before nodding in acceptance, a shy smile working at their lips as they reached their hand out to grasp Shinobu’s in a firm shake.

“Alright, what would you like to see first?”

“Surprise me.”

(Y/n) was a surprisingly competent tour guide bursting with information about themself and the sights around them. They had begun by telling Shinobu about the small village they had come from and how much of a culture shock it was when they finally made to Tokyo. They had never seen so many people and there were so many lights that it almost made night seem like day. It was very overwhelming at first, but they got a hang of it.

After wandering around for some time, (Y/n) asked Shinobu if she was hungry and took her to a ramen hut that was wildly popular.

“I’ve heard all sorts of great things about this place. If eating regular food didn’t make me feel so ill afterwards, I would be all over it! You have to let me know how it tastes!” They beamed excitedly.

Shinobu had to admit it was very good and well worth the wait.

“Hey Bu— Kochou, you’re a smart, science-y kind of gal. Do you think that a cure for demons is possible?”

“…I suppose it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Though I’d say it’s unlikely. It’s not something I’ve spent any time studying anyhow.”

“I see,” (Y/n) sighed, “you know, another reason I came to Tokyo was because I heard that there was a demon around here who was researching a cure, but I think she must have skipped town. It makes sense I guess. It’s a dangerous business trying to defy, ya know… so if a nobody like me heard about a demon doctor in Tokyo she must have packed her things and left the second her cover was blown. It’s still aggravating though, I really wanted to try to help her out.”

After Shinobu finished her meal, (Y/n) paid for it before she could retrieve her pouch.

“I thought you said you gave away all your money.” She recalled.

“I did, but I got myself a job that even comes with boarding! I only needed a place to protect me from the sun, but I thought I’d send the money I made back home to provide a steady income to my friend but the letters kept getting returned to me unopened so I’m kind of stuck with the cash…” They ran their hands over their clothes uncomfortably but put on a brave smile, “Well, anything else you’d like to do? The night is still young.”

They made their way down the bustling road, (Y/n) being the one to keep the conversation going most of the time. Shinobu made an effort to listen to at least pretend to be interested and file away any information that could actually be important moving forward.

She was distracted by a woman calling for someone as she clumsily navigated her way across the street. (Y/n) turned to greet her, seemingly familiar with her. Shinobu watched the interaction curiously.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other day!” The woman bowed profusely, shoving a box of assorted treats into (Y/n)’s hands.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, really. Somebody needed to step in.”

“Even so, please accept these as a token of my gratitude.” The woman shifted nervously before quickly kissing (Y/n)’s cheek before running back into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Shinobu asked.

“I, uh, punched a guy that was trying to feel her up. You probably don’t agree with the way I chose to go about it but,”

“No, I probably would have done the same. Good on you.” Shinobu half-heartedly praised.

“You mean it? Phew, I thought you’d be all like, ‘you mustn’t ever raise your hand to a human no matter the reason!’ or something.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You kinda do. Anyway, I would love to see you punch a guy. Just really wipe the floor with some jerk who really deserves— Hey! Watch out!”

(Y/n) disappeared from Shinobu’s side in a second and she heard an awful crunching sound and turned to the street. She saw a young boy on hands and knees, a temari rolling slowly away from him, and just a little further to the left, (Y/n)’s forearm had caved in around the hood of an oncoming automobile, stopping it in its tracks.

“Are you okay?” They asked the boy before checking in on the passengers of the vehicle. The obviously intoxicated driver shook an angry fist at them before puttering off at a much slower, jerkier speed.

Shinobu approached the scene, prepared to check over the boy for injuries. He clearly scraped up his palms and knees and was crying woefully.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” (Y/n) smiled sympathetically, “Here, I know a bit of magic that will help the pain go away.”

Shinobu watched the demon make a whole manner of nonsensical hand gestures and noises that made the weepy boy giggle and then with a deep inhale, the boy blinked, suddenly he didn’t feel so bad.

“You really are magic.” He whispered with awe.

“It’s our secret, okay?”

The boy made a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“Kochou, do you have anything for his scrapes? I can take care of the pain, but not the actual injuries.”

“Of course.”

She patched the boy up and (Y/n) retrieved his temari. Together they helped reunite the boy with his worried mother.

“Are you always so busy? Or are you putting on a special show just for me?” Shinobu asked.

“Not at all! I may feed off of negative emotions, that I’ll sit by if there is something I can do to make it better.”

“I recall you saying something similar before I suppose.”

“Oh, so you do listen to me. I wonder sometimes.” (Y/n) teased.

“Just take me to our next destination, please.”

“You got it, Bu-Bu.”

“Quit it.”

***

Another handful of months go by, more than a year since she first tackled (Y/n) to the ground and Shinobu knows she’s in too deep. Her plan was to marginally taper her hatred for (Y/n), not fall in love with them! Try as she might to ignore it, (Y/n) had shown their merit time and time again and grew on Shinobu like lichen on sturdy stone.

They were genuine, goofy, sweet, a pain in the ass, and Shinobu was smitten. There had been a handful of times where Shinobu thought she could do it, she could get the jump on them and end it all for good, but then (Y/n) would smile at her so sincerely or laugh in the way that would make her heart swell and she just couldn’t do it!

She told them things about herself that those closest to her had to twist her arm to get out of her. She just couldn’t believe she had gotten here from where she started, but try as she might to convince herself, she couldn’t say she regretted it.

“Oh great! You found a seat!”

Shinobu tried to temper the blush dusting her cheeks. She still hadn’t quite recovered from (Y/n)’s exuberant appraisal of the yukata she had worn for the occasion. It was a festival after all, why not dress up a bit? No other reason…

“Here, hope you like dango.”

“I do. Thank you.” Shinobu smiled, taking the offering and trying to ignore how her skin tingled when her hand brushed theirs.

They watched the procession of performers carry on down the street lit in a vibrant orange glow from the paper lanterns scattered around, but they kept glancing at each other, nervous for whatever reason. Their hands accidentally brushed when (Y/n) rested their palm against the branch. They jolted apart before cautiously meeting in the middle again.

“Shinobu,”

“Hm?” Shinobu attempted to mentally beat down her fluttering heart, when she saw how close (Y/n)’s face was to hers.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Already breathless, Shinobu nodded numbly. There had been a couple close calls in the past since they seemed to pull on each other like magnets, but now it was really happening. Or maybe not because Shinobu’s stomach was suddenly in knots.

This whole build up was built upon the fact that she wanted to take (Y/n)’s life. A secret she had kept to this very night. Perhaps if she brought it up when they first entered the friend stage they could have laughed about it, but now it was eating her up inside. She had to tell them.

“W-wait.”

(Y/n) pulled back, apologies ready for being so forward, but Shinobu shushed them.

“Before we continue. I must tell you something important.“

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“My intentions towards you have not always been pure.” Shinobu swallowed. “When I first approached you under the guise of offering an olive branch, I was really coming at you as a Trojan horse. I intended to get close to you, in order to bring down your guard and lessen my hate towards you in hopes to more easily destroy you.”

“Oh.”

“Instead I accidentally fell for you. It’s rather ironic, isn’t it?” Shinobu chuckled, attempting to lighten the weight of her very heavy confession.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly in return, looking down at their feet, “you must be disappointed.”

“I grappled with it for a while, but I got over it.” Shinobu slid her hand out to find (Y/n)’s again, but to her surprise they stood up before their hands met.

“I’m sorry falling in love with me was such an awful thing that you had to fight with yourself over it.”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu stood as well, reaching out for them only for them to back away.

“Well, in a way I guess you still succeeded. I don’t think I’ve ever hurt this much.”

“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you, I just wanted to be transparent with you.”

“You had plenty of time to be transparent! When did you start to actually care? How much of the time that I look back fondly upon were you actually thinking about when to stab me in the back!”

“(Y/n), please,” Shinobu beseeched, but (Y/n) shook their head.

“I think I better go.”

“Wait—!”

Shinobu reached out to grab them but they were already gone.

***

Shinobu had searched for (Y/n) in all the usual places. She even waited outside their place of work, but their boss sourly told her they had been missing their shifts. They wouldn’t leave Tokyo without telling her, would they? She had looked in all the usual places, asked people for any hint of their whereabouts, but received no leads. Thinking about it now, (Y/n) always seemed to be the one finding her, not the other way around. (Y/n) probably tracked her through their abilities and this meant that if (Y/n) didn’t want Shinobu to find them, she never would.

Broken hearted, she returned home and the girls noticed the somber fog she brought home with her. She appreciated their attempts to cheer her up, but nothing would keep her from her brooding for long.

Day after day she wallowed, barely keeping up with her work because as long as she appeared to be functioning on the surface, people left her alone for the most part. She’d lay in bed, languishinging away. Stewing in her sadness and growing frustrated with herself. She was not Tomioka, she wasn’t the type to lay in a dark room all day and wonder, ‘why me?’ She took charge! She kicked ass and took names! She saw a butterfly in the garden that reminded her of (Y/n) and cried about it for twenty-five minutes…

Shinobu was absolutely miserable.

Taking note of the time, she took a deep breath and heaved herself out of bed to allow herself some time to fix herself into something resembling a functioning human being before she headed to the lab. She had been working on finding a cure for demons lately and though she really had no need to continue, except for maybe Nezuko she supposed, she couldn’t bring herself to clean up and pack away what she had worked out already. She wondered how long that demon doctor (Y/n) had mentioned had been searching for a cure.

As Shinobu dragged her feet through the halls, she heard a commotion. She was content to ignore it, thinking it was probably just the rowdy boys coming back from their latest missions until she heard someone shouting about a demon.

A demon on estate grounds was unheard of, especially during the day.

Shinobu ran passed the lab and through the sea of Kakushi frantically running about, yelling to quickly find her or Kanao to deal with the matter.

“Everyone be quiet!” She heard Aoi yell from somewhere within the chaos. “Remember the protocol! Get to your stations!”

The crowd thinned enough for Shinobu to make her way outside. Kanao was already there, sword at the ready. Shinobu aimed her gaze further ahead to see exactly what they were dealing with her heart nearly fell to her feet.

Underneath a large umbrella, only slightly singed, (Y/n) stood timidly, trying not to do anything that would warrant Kanao’s wrath.

Shinobu moved on autopilot, almost tripping herself a few times because she couldn’t take her eyes away from (Y/n). Her hand managed to find Kanao’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, they won’t harm anyone here.” She assured.

Kanao searched Shinobu’s face before taking a step back. Though she had been concerned with Shinobu’s behavior as of late, she was curious to see where exactly she was going with this.

Shinobu walked on until there was only a few steps distance between them. (Y/n) bit their lip nervously.

“Hey—“

“What are you doing out in the sun?!” Shinobu scolded, “You could die! Get inside right now before something goes horribly wrong!”

Shinobu shrugged off her haori and put it around (Y/n) in hopes of adding another protective layer and quickly ushered them inside.

“I’ve got everything under control Kanao, let everyone know there is no need to worry and to go back about their day, please.”

Shinobu pushed (Y/n) through the halls, finally shoving them into her room and shutting the door behind them.

“Are you feeling okay? Nevermind, stupid question. I know you aren’t.” (Y/n) blew out a gust of air and closed their umbrella.

“How did you know where to find me? Why did you come back?”

“Well, after I stopped feeling sorry for myself I thought about what you said. It wasn’t fair for me to run off on you like that, and avoid you in the days that followed. I went looking for you then, but I guess you had given up. I didn’t know how I could find you again to apologize, but then I started feeling your emotions again so I thought you came back. I followed your sorrow, and followed and followed, bought an umbrella, kept going, and then I wound up here.

I’m so sorry I left you alone like that. I obviously hurt you a great deal. Can you forgive me?”

“I think we both both have our fair share of blame. I forgive you. And I’m sorry, do you forgive me.”

“Yes, of course I do.” (Y/n) took a step forward and rose their arms halfway, hesitating. “Um, would a hug be okay?”

“Get over here.”

Shinobu grasped (Y/n)’s wrists and pulled them forward into a right hug. She relaxed into (Y/n)’s body when their arms wrapped around her.

***

“Darling, I already fed Fugu today.” Shinobu told (Y/n), taking the fish food from their hand and placing it back on the shelf.

“Are you sure? She looks hungry.”

“She is trying to deceive you. She knows you’re an easy target.” Shinobu smiled, pulling (Y/n) out of their room by their hand. “Come along now, it’s a full moon, and you said you wanted to go on a walk with me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah!”

They walked hand in hand through the cool night, the moon illuminating the path, occasionally deviating from the path to share a few stolen kisses along the way. Though Shinobu’s well of anger was far from empty, the love they shared helped make the pain much more bearable.

[mistyresolve]

| Sunder - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Edited)

Word Count - 2.2k 

Summary - Y/n is caught of guard when they discover a stray soldier had stuck around after his mission. Curiosity piqued, they decide to stay and talk with Ghost to figure out why he never went home.

Warnings/Tags - Fluff, Angst, Explicit language and description, Mentions of death (including a child and his family), Ghost is morally grey in this one

A/N - sometimes writing about Ghost makes me sad :( also i don’t know if this is fluff or angst my apologies 

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You hadn’t expected anyone to be lingering in the 141 barracks with most of them having left for home after their recent assignment. You expected all of them to return home actually. But Simon Riley was slouched on the couch in the common area. 

He was still in his gear, save his bulletproof vest and gun. The zipper to his black tactical shirt was undone, the chain to his dog tags peeking out from beneath the fabric. His mask was lying on the couch beside him, and he had yet to wipe off the black paint, faded from wear and time. It still lined his eyes and smeared down his cheeks. Not a single light was on but you could still make out enough to recognize it as him with the help of the moonlight leaking in through the windows.

“Oh,” you jumped, the stack of mail in your hand flying up to cover your eyes. The mail you collected for both Price and Gaz as they requested, and you came here intending to just leave it on the table in the commons room for when they return. You were a close friend of Gaz’s and spent every Friday night at their barracks playing pool or cards with him and whatever other member wished to join in that night. You’ve met Ghost a couple of times and played a game of cards with him a handful of times. He won poker every single time, his ability to bluff and lie always floored you. He’s taken hundreds of dollars from you. 

Not a single one of those interactions has he ever removed his mask. 

You waved the envelopes in front of your face, your eyes squeezed shut for added reassurance, “I’m just dropping off some mail for Gaz and Price,” you told him. If only to make sure he didn’t think you were trying to sneak in thinking everyone was gone and snoop. This time when you dropped the mail from your face, your eyes were on the floor. 

He huffed a laugh, the sound deep and reverberating. There wasn’t a hint of humour in it, “You can look up. I’m not going to bite,” he lilted. He sounded exhausted like he was latching onto consciousness with a death grip, forcing it to remain with him. 

You hesitated, turning the thought over in your head. He knew that you knew if you so much as thought about revealing his identity he would hunt you down and string you up to use as an example. 

You dragged your gaze up the length of his body. He was pure muscle and long limbs. He wasn’t built with cosmetics in mind but with the need for unbridled strength and power. His broad shoulders and chest were on display as he rested his arms on the back of the couch. He devoured the space. He looked like he was made too big for this world. 

You lingered on his face for longer than you’d like to admit. He’s always caught your attention but you had your reservations as to why you never actively pursue him. He didn’t seem like the kind of man you’d take home to meet your parents for Christmas. He didn’t seem like a man capable of something like love. He always left you with the impression that he was a ticking time bomb. His humanity held together by sheer will and spite. 

But looking at him now, nil the mask, he looked so mundane. He wasn’t at all like his many nicknames and reputations. He wasn’t Azrael, an angel of death. He wasn’t the Grim Reaper. The scars on his skin were evidence enough that he was capable of pain, injury, and eventually death. 

He wasn’t Death because it was Death that stalked him; It followed him into his sleep and it hovered over his shoulders as both his ally and foe. 

Without the mask, he was just like everyone else. He was also handsome. The type of handsome someone has to grow into. Hard lines and dark features. The oily black paint and dark room made it harder to distinguish every one of his features but you didn’t need to see them. Now, a small part of you wished you had tried your shot with him. 

“I thought everyone went home?” you placed the mail on the table, sorting through them by person so you had somewhere other than him to look at. 

“They did,” he quipped. His patience was evidently thinned, not by you, but by something else. 

The inquisitive side of you perked up, ears turning in on him. You eyed him from your spot at the table and your attention snagged on the glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside tilted to one side, “Everyone including you,” you specified. 

He leaned his head all the way back on the cushions, his face pointed to the ceiling, “No. Not me. I usually don’t.”

“Hmm,” you moved the kitchen and opened the fridge to find the sparkling water you left at the bottom. The can cracked and fizzed and the faint smell of strawberries and pomegranates wafted up, “No one you want to see back home?” it wasn’t that uncommon for someone to not want to return home, some people joined just to get away from it. Maybe he was one of those people.

“Nope,” he popped the p, his head rising back up to look at you. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with but this was different.      

“No movies at the theatre you were looking forward to?” Since there wasn’t any source of entertainment at the base most of the soldiers raved about the movie theatres once they got back from leave. Although, the thought of the man sitting in front of you going to a theatre and eating popcorn was laughable. 

“I’m more of a show kind of guy,” he followed you with his eyes as you made your way to the couch opposite him. 

“How was the mission?” you went for the elephant in the room. Gaz had stopped by your office on his way to the air stripe, he sat with you for an hour to discuss the mission. You knew the result of the mission, but you had a feeling that even Gaz was leaving bits and pieces out. Leading you the conclusion that something had gone awry.  

“A success.”

Okay. Not really what you were looking for.

“I would expect nothing less from you and the 141, and you don’t usually come back to base until you’ve done your job. That’s why I didn’t ask if it was a success,” you tilted your head at him, “And if it was a success why are you not celebrating? Instead, you’re sitting in an empty barracks, in the dark, drunk. So, tell me, How was the mission?” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m drinking,” he pulled at the syllables with his tongue, emphasizing each one. 

Temper.  

“Hang me on a technicality,” you deadpanned, he needed a little pushing, you just had to be careful not to poke any bruises when doing so.   

“I don’t need a psychologist to be psychoanalyzing me and writing ‘unfit for work’ all over my file,” His teeth flashed white in the dark as he snarled. He was never this volatile, not that you’ve ever witnessed anyway. He was like an injured animal back into a corner.

“I was a counsellor, not a psychologist. I didn’t make diagnoses, I just listen and give advice where it’s wanted,” you reply, referring to your old civilian job before joining the force and working with the soldiers here. You had shifted career paths to health promotion and providing resources to anyone who came and asked for them. You were passionate about it, and wanted to help every last one of these soldiers. The only issue was that not many of them wanted the help, and Ghost fell into that category, “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I can assure you I’ve heard it before. If not worse. Besides, I’m off the clock. Nothing you say will be repeated or recorded. Nothing anyone ever says is.”   

“Have you cornered anyone else from the 141?” he looked at you from beneath his brows, suspicion creeping in on him. 

You shrugged. The truth was that every member of the 141 has visited your office at one point or the other. All except him. He was on your radar but you were going to wait until he came to you. For now, you were extending a hand towards him. Whether he took it now, later or not at all was entirely up to him and you’d back down the moment he expressed that he had no desire to open up.   

You waited, folding your legs underneath in a show of, I can wait for you all night.  

He was completely still, his gaze glazing over in thought, in remembrance. There was a long moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that was making room for something else, something heavier, “They killed a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than eight,” he finished the last of his drink, “Didn’t want her to talk, so they shot her in the head and left her body for us to find. I stepped right over her and I still couldn’t even look at her face. Seems like the world’s greatest sin, right? Killing a child like that,” his gaze dropped to his feet, “But I’ve been thinking…I would have done the same if it meant protecting a mission. Seems like a pretty good trade to me, a single life to protect the rest,” He poured himself another half glass of whiskey in preparation to nullify whatever feelings were bubbling up, “I’m really, uhh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m really no different from the men and woman I’ve killed. We go out there and believe we’re doing the world a favour, but who’s to say we aren’t the villain in their story?”      

“You have to make some of the hardest decisions a single human has to make, and no, it’s not fair. Sometimes there is no right answer, no better option. You sacrifice every part of yourself for the sake of peace. So of course you’re going to lose in the end. Even if the mission was a success, you still lose. There are no winners in war, Ghost,” You pulled one of the decorative pillows to your chest. It was a harsh truth, but it was one that you wholeheartedly believed, and he didn’t need pretty or sugar-coated words. 

Devastation rang as you noticed his expression. He had been expecting you to hate him for his confession. Be disgusted with him. This man thinks he’s fighting this war by himself, that’s he’d completely alone in this world. To think he’s been dealing with these thoughts and feelings by himself. Ruminating over them till there is nothing left but self-loathing and abhorrence. 

“You’re not the monster you think you are. Maybe a little fucked up, yes, but who isn’t in this line of work?” 

He was quiet, his mouth a thin line as he contemplated your words. You could see he was listening, hearing you, but he didn’t necessarily believe you. That was okay though, you weren’t expecting him to. He’s tormenting himself for so long that cracking through that kind of damage would take time. Either way, you formed a metaphoric bridge to him, and gave him an alternative. 

His shoulders loosened after a long while, “I’m not going to become a regular,” he stated, meaning this kind of conversation was not something he planned on making a norm for himself and he wasn’t going to be showing up at my office anytime soon or very often.  

“That’s a real shame, I quite like your company,” you tossed the pillow to the side, stretching out your legs before standing up to leave. 

You were just picking up your can of sparkling water when he said, “Stay.”

It wasn’t a question or a demand, but rather a submission. He didn’t want to be alone right now. Knew that he needed someone else's voice to drone out his thoughts. 

You slowly slid back into the couch, understanding what he was needing at this moment. Inside your head, you jumped into the air and clicked your heels together, “And do what?” 

He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut, “Just talk. About anything. Not this, but anything else.”  

You pondered for a second, “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what you looked like under that mask. It’s been one of life's greatest mysteries.”

His eyes popped back open, a smile tugging at his lips, the hint of a dimple appearing, “Not a word to anyone else, you hear me?” 

“A word about what?” you feigned ignorance.

His smile grew the slightest bit, “Exactly.”

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A/N - I used Ghosts Azrael skin religiously on MW 2019 

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[ellephlox]

Concordant

This is a sequel to Discordant — you don't need to have read that oneshot to understand this one, but I'd highly recommend starting there!

In case you do decide to skip Discordant, a short summary is that Reader got in a dangerous situation trying to help out Matt, and so Matt's really angry about it. This is essentially the fallout from that argument.

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Summary: You and Matt are going through a rough patch. Karen and Foggy devise a plan to help out by kidnapping you and Matt to force you to speak to one another encouraging communication and quality time together.

Warnings: mention of a mass shooting, profanity, angst

A/N: I had absolutely no plans to make a part 2 but enough people asked so here we are!!

There was a shooting in Hell's Kitchen. Four dead, eight injured. Shots were fired just after one in the morning at a bar by a white man in his fifties or sixties, according to witnesses. While it was devastating, people claimed it would have been much worse, had the Devil not shown up and knocked out the shooter within thirty seconds, who was now in police custody and awaiting his trial.

Usually, you would have heard a story like this directly from Matt. He would have told you what he'd heard, and how he went into the fight; he would have described whether or not the shooter could actually throw a punch and maybe how he almost botched the whole thing by nearly twisting his ankle on a bit of spilled mac 'n' cheese on the floor. Then he would have assured you that either way you had nothing to worry about, and that yes, of course, he was always careful.

Not this time.

This time, you heard the story on the news while you were getting dressed for work. Hearing Matt's epithet spoken so reverently by the newscaster made your spine prickle with a mixture of anger and hurt, so you muted the television in spite, only to unmute it a few seconds later from raw curiosity.

It had been a week since you'd fought with him. After you had showered and gotten the blood off of yourself, you went back to your apartment, and said not another word to Matt. Something deep inside you thought that he would reach out first, so you kept your window unlocked at night, thinking that a certain horned figure would slip inside and join you under the covers, whispering an apology and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

But no one showed up, and each night you brushed your teeth, alone; climbed under the covers, alone; read under your lamp when you couldn't sleep, alone.

Several times (more like sixteen times — but who was counting?) you picked up the phone and typed in his number, but never dialed. You had only tried to help him, and the fact that he refused to acknowledge your good intentions stung so badly that it kept you from extending an olive branch.

So when your phone rang that morning, you jumped to it; it wasn't as though you had a ton of people that were calling you on a day-to-day basis. It was Foggy, though, and you tried to hide your disappointment with a cheerful greeting.

"You're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," he said. "You have a day off or something?"

"Ha. I wish. I'm on my way into work right now," you said as you locked your door. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Matt, actually," Foggy said. You froze, mouth going dry, but fortunately he continued talking. "He's not here right now. Obviously. Or else I wouldn't be talking about this with you. And I just called him; he said he's just gotten out of the shower, so I've got a safe fifteen minutes at least before he's in the nefarious earshot zone. Which, as you and I both know, is very ambiguous when it comes to our bat-like friend."

"Uh, yeah." You emerged onto the street, blinking in the sunlight. "So you know I'm not with him right now, then."

"Yeah, Matt said that you had something to do at your apartment last night, and that you wouldn't be staying with him."

Ah. So Foggy didn't know that you were in a fight with Matt. You tried to act casual. "Yeah, I didn't see him last night. Word on the news is that he took down that active shooter."

"Oh, don't worry, I've already drilled him on the phone. Demanded to know whether he has any extra holes on him currently."

"That's a creepy way of putting it, Foggy."

"His answer was no," Foggy said blithely. "Anyway, I wanted to know if you knew what was going on with him."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer; it was too vague of a prompt to respond to. "Well, what have you noticed?" you asked carefully.

He snorted. "Pretty much everything that exists in the Moody Matt Murdock Archive. There's a never-ending mug of coffee on his desk, he's got extra bruises on his face, and he's so far behind in paperwork that I'm working overtime to cover his ass."

You felt a flare of annoyance on Foggy's behalf. "You don't have to do that. Let him reap the consequences."

"Nah. We're on the same ship, y'know? And if I've got to be the one keeping Nelson and Murdock afloat for awhile, it wouldn't be the first time."

"That's not fair to you."

But Foggy plowed on, unperturbed. "And my guess is that he hasn't been to confession in awhile. Did he go last Sunday?"

Crap. You had absolutely no idea, considering you hadn't seen Matt in days. "You know, I actually was thinking," you stalled, "about how — oh, shit!"

"What?"

"I'm running late!" you said, guilt shooting through you at the half-lie. While it wasn't untrue, it was also a terrible excuse. Poor Foggy didn't deserve either of you. "So sorry, Foggy, I've got to split. I'll call you later?"

"No problem-o," he said, and you gratefully ended the call, having no intention to call him back later with the threat of him questioning you again. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with him knowing that you were in a fight with Matt, but knowing him, he'd try to solve it, and the last thing you wanted was a counseling session led by Foggy.

That, however, was far from the worst encounter of your day.

Because of course in a city like New York, where the total population literally exceeded eight million, you'd run into the one person you didn't want to see, in the line of a local café, of all places. Not to mention it was a café you thought he'd never go to, seeing as you'd never been there with him before and only occasionally went on days like today when you needed a tomato and pesto panini to cheer you up.

At first, you didn't see him when you entered, because you were toggling with your phone to shut off your music and take out your earbuds. Only when you joined the line at the counter and looked up did you instantly recognize the man directly in front of you.

This has to be a cosmic joke. That was all you could think, as you stared numbly from the collar of his button-down to the heels of his shoes. He had obviously noticed you were there; his shoulders were tense, and from the death grip with which he held his cane, you might've thought he was going to turn around and whack you in the head with it.

You almost turned around and walked right out of the store, but defiance kept you rooted to your place. You stayed still, arms crossed, while Matt ordered a Greek salad. When it was your turn to order, he was still standing by the counter, waiting for his takeout to get packaged up.

"Could I have the tomato and pesto panini, please?" you asked the cashier, tapping your foot anxiously as Matt's presence seared on your right. "And also a water?"

"Sure thing. For here or to-go?"

"To-go, please."

"Y/N," Matt said finally, once you finished ordering and there was nothing else to do but face him. There wasn't a hint of a smile on his lips. "I didn't realize you were here."

"Don't worry about it," you told him. "I'm used to you not understanding anything when it comes to where I choose to be." You made your point all too obvious to Matt, whose lips pursed at the end of your sentence. One of the customers next to you gave you a funny look, as though to say, Are you insulting him because he's blind? Embarrassed, you stepped a bit closer to Matt so you could lower your voice. "And you need to get your shit together. Foggy's covering for you. Again. He doesn't deserve that. Just because you're brooding or whatever isn't an excuse to—"

"You're in no place to criticize," he said in a low voice. Without warning his hand shot out and gripped your shoulder with an iron-like strength, steering you to the hall leading to the bathrooms where it was quieter. You pressed yourself against the wall, still crossing your arms over yourself and ignoring the anxious guilt stirring in your chest.

Nope, nope, nope, you cannot be the one to apologize, he's got to do it first, do not apologize, no matter what—

"Foggy's my friend, too, and I have a right to tell you that you should treat him better," you said instead, panic flaring through you at the boldness of your own words. Dammit, stay calm, heartbeat, don't give me away.

Matt's voice was steely. "You've got nerve to say that to me, after everything that's happened."

Your mouth flopped open. "Are you serious? I've got nerve to say that you should treat your best friend better?"

"Did you ever stop to think that I might be spending my time actually helping people? That maybe things have been worse lately and I've been trying to do something about it? Saving this city, making sure that people like you get home safely? That you still get home safely?"

"I didn't ask for that."

"Well, neither did I," he shot back. "Now you know what it's like."

"I don't understand why you're mad at me," you said, frustrated. "I only tried to help. That was all, Matt."

He laughed derisively. "The fact that we've gone over this a few times now and you still can't see what's wrong about it is amazing, Y/N. Yeah, at first I was mad at how reckless your decision was, not to mention that you didn't come in with one single weapon on you. I've gotten over that. Now I'm just pissed that you can't see my side of things. You can't even entertain the thought for one second that I might be right. If you could just acknowledge that you were wrong—"

"That's a lofty ask coming from the same man who hasn't acknowledged my view, either."

"Then maybe we're at an impasse." Matt's eyes were trained on your ear; you could barely see them behind the lenses of the glasses. "Unless you can promise me that you'd never do something like that again."

"That's the dumbest condition I've ever heard," you snarled. "Don't be ridiculous."

Matt's hand abruptly left your shoulder, leaving it cold. "Then that's it. See, this is why I should never have let you know who I am, what I do. Mistakes happen and people get hurt."

"They do," you agreed. "They can get hurt in more ways than one, Matt. Physical pain isn't the only type of pain."

"I won't keep making that mistake, then," Matt said coolly. "And you won't have to worry about me hurting you ever again."

"Greek salad!" one of the workers yelled, and without further ado Matt's hand left your shoulder, leaving a cold spot there. You stared at the beige wall for another minute, and only left robotically once your own sandwich had been made.

Did we break up? The question plagued you all night. You stared at your ceiling, unable to feel even slightly sleepy. It was like a gnawing black hole inside you, and the more you thought about it the more you wanted to cry. Or scream. Maybe both. How had it all gone so wrong?

Crying eventually won out, and you crammed your face into your pillow as tears, unbidden, came out. It pissed you off at the same time, because you had a terrible feeling that Matt probably hadn't shed one tear over it.

He was excited for a chance to break up. You didn't want to believe it, but it seemed too rational to ignore. He'd been all too quick to jump at the chance to be alone again, hadn't he? He'd decided he didn't want to date anymore; it was apparently a failed experiment in allowing someone into both his lives as Matt Murdock and as Daredevil. You couldn't be enough to live in both of those lives with him, and so he had to cut you off. It made sense. Miserably you finally turned your light on and began to read, wondering distantly whether Matt was anywhere near you and if you had even crossed his mind that night.

Somehow you must have fallen asleep at some point, because suddenly your alarm was chiming loudly and light was streaming into your eyes. Groggily you pulled back your blankets and got dressed, showered and made breakfast, and only then did you check your phone.

A message from Karen was there. Slightly bewildered, you unlocked your phone.

Hey, Y/N! Was thinking of taking a drive upstate today. Spur of the moment thing. Want to join?

It was like a blessing; here was Karen, with a distraction ready to go that would get you out of your apartment and, more importantly, Hell's Kitchen. Without hesitation you agreed and she texted back almost immediately to tell you that she'd pick you up in an hour.

"Where are we headed?" you asked once you got into the passenger seat, grinning at her. She had put her hair in a ponytail and already had the music playing. This is exactly what I need. Now you almost hoped Matt would show up at your apartment today, because it gave you immense satisfaction to picture him taking the time to go see you and make amends, only for your apartment to be empty.

"It's a surprise," was all she said, giving you a mysterious smile. "I will say that it's a place meant for rejuvenation and open air."

Rejuvenation and open air. A spa day, maybe? You hoped so.

The drive ended up taking almost six hours. It was far longer than you were expecting and your legs were cramped by the time Karen finally announced that the destination was only five minutes away. The so-called "destination", however, was a bit concerning, because all you'd seen in the past thirty minutes was farmland, trees, and dilapidated signs for MALONE, NY.

"We're here," Karen announced, pulling the car into the lot beside an austere building.

"Uh — if you don't mind me asking," you said, starting to feel slightly concerned, "Where exactly is here?"

"Take a look," she said brightly.

You squinted at the letters sculpted above the doors. "Franklin County Courthouse? We should send a picture to Foggy. He'd find that hilarious."

"We won't have to send a picture, actually." Karen's lips were tight as though she were trying to resist smiling and you suddenly felt uneasy. "Foggy's pulling in, right now."

"What's going on?" you asked suspiciously, but a moment later, your question was answered.

Foggy parked right next to Karen, and right there, sitting sullenly in the passenger seat, was Matt, still dressed in a tee shirt and sweats that had a few old bloodstains on them.

"What the hell?" you hissed, launching yourself back against the seat as though Matt could see you. "Why is he here?"

Karen didn't bat an eye. "You and Matt are being stupid. Foggy and I agreed that you, Y/N, are the best thing that's ever happened to Matt Murdock and we're not going to let you two drift apart over a dumb miscommunication."

"It's not a miscommunication," you argued. "It's him being pig-headed and thinking that he can just—"

"You two both love each other, and that's why you're fighting," Karen interrupted. "So, this is our therapy that we devised."

You stared, agape. "What is?"

Foggy opened up your passenger side door, a wide smile on his face. "Hate to evict you, Y/N, but you've got to get out."

"Excuse me?"

"We're swapping," he said cheerfully. "And you're going to drive back to New York City with Matt."

"I'm — what? No, I'm not!"

"This isn't happening, Foggy." Matt had gotten out of the car and was closing the door. His glasses glinted in the sunlight, sending blinding beams of light bouncing at you. "This is between Y/N and me. Not you and Karen."

"Try and stop us, then," Foggy said, climbing into the car.

Matt was glowering. "I will. I'm warning you, Foggy. If it comes to force, then—"

But Karen only laughed. "Foggy said you'd act all threatening, Matt. It's kind of cute that you think it's going to stop us."

"I did say that!" Foggy was practically aglow. "I told Karen that you'd threaten to go all Daredevil on us, but that's why we picked this venue. See?" He pointed at the courthouse, where there were several security cameras. "Sorry, man. I wouldn't recommend fighting us while on tape or you'll compromise your identity."

Matt's fists were clenched so tightly that even you began to feel a bit nervous.

"How did you even know?" you asked, turning to Foggy. "When I talked to you on the phone, I didn't say anything. And I'm guessing Mr. Cold Shoulder over there didn't confess his feelings to you."

Foggy looked at you, eyebrows raised. "Seriously, Y/N? I knew the moment Matt was moody and you were at your own apartment. You underestimate the sensitivity of my best-friends-are-squabbling-radar."

"This is a waste of time," Matt said. "We're in an argument, and it has nothing to do with you two. So let me ride back with you, Foggy, and Y/N can stay with Karen until she's ready to actually behave like an adult and talk to me—"

"Are you kidding me?" you said, incredulous. "You're the one making this so difficult! And by the way, this is feeling very much like kidnapping — Karen, you sort of lied to me–"

"We never lied. We just didn't specify the truth," she countered. "It's for your own good."

"Here." Foggy tossed the keys to his car at you. "You and Matt enjoy your next six hours together."

"Foggy—"

"Bye!" He slammed his passenger door, and Karen stepped on the gas so hard that you were left in a cloud of dust, coughing as you breathed it in.

Once they were gone, it was the worst silence imaginable that was left. Matt still stood, stiff as a board, beside the car. Not doing it. Not even going to try talking to him. Resolutely you turned on your heel and began to march out of the lot, keeping your chin high.

"Where are you going?" Matt demanded from behind you.

"Home."

"You planning on walking?"

"No."

"Then—"

"There are other methods of transportation, Matthew. I'm going to find a bus. Or a taxi. Or I'll hitchhike. Anything, really, to avoid spending any time in a car with you."

"So you're going to just leave Foggy's car here?"

You halted in your tracks. That was a caveat that you hadn't foreseen. Matt certainly couldn't drive Foggy's car back to Hell's Kitchen. "He deserves it for leaving us here," you said, fighting to keep the uncertainty out of your voice.

To your irritation, Matt snorted. "You're lying."

"Shut up. I'm going to hitchhike."

"Again, you're lying."

"Fine." You stomped back over and jangled the keys. "I'm driving back in Foggy's car, but you're going to have to find some other way to get back because I don't want you in here with me."

"You think I'm thrilled about spending the rest of my Saturday with you, Y/N?" Matt's voice was biting. "But look around you. We're in a small town, upstate New York. The public transportation here is nonexistent."

"Tough."

"Y/N, I don't like this either, but you're going to have to suck it up and drive us back."

"Don't tell me what to do," you snapped. You jangled the keys again. "You're forgetting who has the keys here. I'm in control."

Quicker than the blink of an eye, Matt swung you around, wrapping the crook of his left arm around your neck, and swiping your wallet from your pocket with his right hand. He was warm; you could smell his shampoo just from being pressed, back-to, against his chest. As much as you were pissed at him, your body tingled at the physical touch, and goosebumps rose up your arms before he released you almost as quickly, holding your wallet up as though it were a prize. "Don't be so sure," he said, the corners of his lips lifting up.

You lunged at him, but he easily swapped the wallet to his other hand. "Give me my wallet back!"

"Not until you drive us back."

"What if the security cameras—"

"Foggy and Karen were bluffing. I guarantee there's no one looking over the footage right now."

You cursed under your breath. There was no way you'd be able to get your wallet back from Matt, and without it, you had no money on you. "Fine! Fine. Get in the car, Matthew."

Without a word he climbed in, and you got into the driver's seat.

The first two and a half hours, while horribly uncomfortable, at least didn't involve any talking. You were more than happy to realize that Matt, true to his declaration that he had no interest in riding with you, had no intentions to speak.

And then you had to pee.

You pulled into the first gas station that you drove by and parked by the front. "I need to use the restroom," you said shortly to Matt. "And I'm getting a water."

He didn't answer.

"Do you need anything?" you continued, forcing out the words. "Aside from the ability to empathize?"

Matt's head tilted towards you. "If I needed anything, I'd get it myself."

"Right. You get mad at anyone who tries to help you."

"Quit playing offense and hurry up, Y/N. This is the last way that I wanted to spend my day."

You barely resisted giving him the finger as you slammed the car door and went into the gas station. The cashier handed you a key for a bathroom outside the building, so you went back out and wrapped around to the back of the gas station where there was a rusting metal door labeled TOILET.

The lock took nearly a full thirty seconds to twist, it was so rusted. Only after locking it did you realize it was pointless anyway; there was no one out here for miles and probably the only other roadtrippers along this highway — Foggy and Karen — were ahead of you.

After being careful to not touch the toilet seat and then flushed with the toe of your shoe, you washed up, trying to flatten your hair and examining the dark circles under your eyes.

And then you tried to open the lock. It was so rusted that it took a few moments for it to even budge, and then, with a dusty snap, the lever broke right off and fell on the floor, leaving the door still locked.

For a moment, you just stared mutely at the broken lock. This is the nice, big cherry on top of today. Then you tried the door; it was still most definitely locked, and now there was no way to unlock it.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you muttered, prodding at the broken part with your finger. Stuck in a gas station bathroom, of course that's what had to happen to you. You wished you'd purchased a water before using the restroom because the prospect of not having water was suddenly making your throat parched.

The cashier, you remembered, had earbuds in, so hollering at him through the wall probably wasn't going to get you anywhere. Still, you rapped loudly on the side of the bathroom wall — hurting your knuckles on it in the process; it was made of cement — and shouted that the lock had broken.

It was to no avail. The cashier didn't show up to help.

What was worse was knowing that Matt could probably "see" everything with his damn echolocation. You didn't doubt that he knew exactly what was happening, from the way you were currently trying to pick at the lock with your bobby pin to the way that your heart was indubitably racing.

And that asshole hasn't bothered coming out to help me. You gritted your teeth and glanced at the tiny awning window in the top left corner of the bathroom, above the toilet.

Well, it would have to do.

You climbed on top of the toilet and reached upwards to unlock the window. It was easy enough to reach, despite the tall ceilings of the gas station, though hoisting yourself through there would be a different question. It wasn't like you spent your nights doing gymnastic feats all around Hell's Kitchen like someone else that you knew.

Who was currently still minding his own business, sitting in the car.

You finally knocked out the screen on the window and struggled to lift yourself up enough that your head could poke through. It was a tight fit, but you could make it.

Now, the only issue was actually getting down safely. You realized, looking down at the pavement below, that it was much higher than you realized. It wasn't as though you had taken any stairs to get into the bathroom, but coming out of a window head-first was a much different story than if you could have gotten out feet-first.

Resolutely you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Matt's number.

"Hello?" he said, picking up on the seventh ring.

"You took your damn time answering."

"What do you want?"

"What do you think, Matt? I'm sure you're enjoying this little spectacle of myself that I'm making right now in the world-on-fire."

"Actually, believe it or not, I'm trying to ignore you as much as I can."

You took a deep breath. "I need your help."

"I figured."

You waited. There was only silence. Damn you, Matt. "I mean... can you please help me?"

There was the background noise of the car door opening. "If it gets us home quicker."

It was even more humiliating than you could have predicted when Matt came around the corner of the gas station, tapping his white cane along the pavement until he was no longer within the view of the parking lot or the windows of the building. You wriggled through the window a bit more, so that now your entire top half was practically dangling out of the window, and waited for Matt to line himself up below you.

Only then did you realize he was smirking.

"Are you laughing?" you demanded.

Matt's smile flattened out. "No."

"You were!"

"Maybe. Cut me some slack. You're having to evacuate a gas station bathroom through a narrow window."

"Well, catch me," you said, petulant. "Okay?"

"Ready."

"You're sure? You won't drop me?"

"As tempting as it sounds, no."

You released your grip on the window and dropped out, and true to his word, Matt grabbed you before you could faceplant into the pavement, helping you get upright and brushing some of the dust off of your shoulder.

You would have simply walked away, and gone back into the gas station — because you couldn't allow yourself to get comfortable in his grip, not when he didn't want to touch you, not when you were in a fight, and especially not when you weren't sure you meant anything to him anymore — but he didn't let go.

"Y/N," Matt said, so quietly that your heart flip-flopped. "Y/N, I love you. I love you more than anything and it kills me to not be with you every day."

That was all you needed. You opened your mouth, to respond I love you, too, but he jammed his mouth against yours, kissing you so passionately that you made a small sound of surprise. His hands lowered to your waist and he lifted you up; you wrapped your legs around him tightly and soaked in everything about him — the way his hair felt on your forehead, the press of his chest against your body, the strength of his hands on your back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you whispered, sliding back down him and landing on the pavement. "I shouldn't have put you through what I did. I would've been pissed too if I were in your position."

"Are you kidding me? You're the bravest girl I've ever met. No one else would have come for me like you did. And I should have respected that. Instead I made you feel like shit about it." Matt's hand traced your jaw. "Can you forgive me?"

"I already have," you admitted.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"I know," you said, and then you laughed shakily. "I guess we'll have to award Karen and Foggy certificates in therapy, then?"

"They'll never let us live it down," he confirmed, and his smile, that look of contentedness and the way that he kept his hand on you at all times as though afraid to lose you, was what told you that everything would be alright.

After all, it was Matt.

[leggerefiore]

Red Chain

cw: angsty, Volo is being a bit creepy and manipulative but what's new, one-sided relationship (by Volo), love triangle

pairings: Cyrus/Reader, One-sided Volo/Reader

☄️ = Cyrus's ending, ⭐️ = Volo's ending

Volo had felt like a fool for centuries.

The one time a human stirred feelings within him, he had foolishly blind sided by his ambitions of claiming Arceus's power as his own so desperately that he lost you.

You opposed him fiercely. Your teams clashed at the ruined Temple of Sinnoh. Somehow, you overpowered his pokemon, which he had trained so competently. His rage swelled for but a moment as he called forth Giratina to put an end to your useless resistance to his goals. The choice of words he settled on did not reflect his true feelings.

Strike you down… That was the last thing he wanted. Volo wished you would stop going against his ideals and just let him force the deity down from its hiding to quell his curious mind and take its power as his own. Your death had no benefit to him.

Despite the strength of the Renegade pokemon, you managed to once again persevere and halt his ambitions. The legendary fled into its portal as he yelled curses and insults to both it and you. His feelings were an ocean of madness eating at his poor brain. He relented the final plate to you and watched as Arceus brazenly chose you over him.

Volo departed those ruins with a promise to see his plans to fruition, no matter the wait involved.

He had truly meant it.

Perhaps that was why Arceus had cursed him so.

It had been nearly a century and a half since he last laid eyes on you.

You had departed Hisui not long after you received the blessing of the deity to call upon it. After meeting it, your farewells had been bid to the people of the region as you decided to leave these lands and return to your own era. He had not even managed to see you leave.

Now, however, he stood in what used to be isolated cliffs and rocky terrain. It had been turned into a decent sized city in the now called region of Sinnoh. His feet carried him into the area with relative boredom. News about an organization attempting to call upon the legendary pokemon of Sinnoh to create a new world had called him here in bland curiosity.

There was not much he found enjoyment in any longer. He may have looked no older than a man in his twenties, but he was much, much older. A slight breeze moved his blond strands in its path as he stood in the street near a café. His heavy coat and brimmed cap made his face hard to see, annoyingly mistaken for his descendant a few too many times for his comfort.

It was supposed to be a relatively quick trip. Pop into Veilstone, check out this organization's building, see if any members would talk about how their plans failed, and leave. It was supposed to be easy enough.

You seemed to have a talent for spiting him, however.

Volo felt his feet come to an abrupt stop. Your clothing was entirely different from what he had observed you in during the Hisuian time period, but he could never forget your face. Before him, opposite of the street and pulling a man to a café, stood you. His heart raced. Had this been where you returned to, or was this you before having experienced the past.

The man you dragged caught his attention too, a notable resemblance to an old captain of yours, much too curious not to be acknowledged. Her descendant, almost certainly. You held his arm in your hand as you smiled brightly at him. His face was only stern at you. Volo felt envy boil inside him.

It was the way his body trembled at the sight which brought your attention on to him. Your grip on the man's arm ended as you gazed at him. Volo stared directly into your eyes. Recognition was instantaneous. You walked towards him in a trance-like state, clearly not wishing to believe it was truly him. Your partner caught on to your odd behaviour and reached a hand out to grab your shoulder.

Volo wanted to pout at how you stopped. Your attention went back to the blue-haired man. How could you fall for someone like him? His tenderness and discomfort ruminated in the open air. A whispered conversation was shared between you both, out of the blond's earshot. The man seemed even more unhappy after you finished whispering to him.

Before either of you could react, he pushed you behind him and stood in from of you. His blue eyes bore into Volo's form as he rested his hands behind his back. An obvious attempt at intimidation. Volo only rose to his full height to prove he was not even slightly threatened. The man's brows furrowed together as he closed his eyes. Your hand came to grip his arm as you peered up at him with big eyes.

Volo called out your name and forced your attention back onto him. “Who is this?” he asked, examining the stiff figure of the stranger. It was fairly obvious you both were closer than just friends. You nervously bit your lip.

“… My boyfriend, Cyrus,” you introduced him eventually, moving to stand on his side and lean into him. Cyrus opened his eyes again to glance at you and then returned a glare at him. The name instantly rung a bell in Volo's head. That was the same name as the leader of the team that had tried to use his plans but dumber. Rage boiled inside Volo at the idea that you were dating a zero charisma black hole who did his plans worse than him.

“Boyfriend?” Volo questioned, “… Pardon my memory, but I do not recall you mentioning one.” The blue-haired man stood stiffly.

You nodded your head before smiling in a gentle manner. “I saw no reason to at the time,” you explained, “But I did still consider myself to be in a relationship with Cyrus. It was simply easier to not explain it.” Volo wanted to snap at you both. He had come to love you over a century of life spent in mostly isolation, and you had been taken the whole time? Arceus was truly cruel to joust this fate onto him.

You three felt uncomfortable as pedestrians froze in their paths to observe the scene curiously. It must have seemed like some sort of lover's quarrel to outsiders. Cyrus shook his head. “... I'm still not sure that I believe your story, beloved,” he spoke to you in his quieter tone, “I am not privy to someone attempting to ruin the date you planned, however.”

You watched in terror as Cyrus tossed out his Houndoom. Volo instantly retaliated with his Lucario. A fierce battle between the two was underway in the street by two people that really should not be bringing attention to themselves. It was intense and evenly matched; Volo's wizened years against Cyrus's complete determination.

In the end… Volo came out on top.

Cyrus looked mortified at his fainted Weavile as you rushed over to check on it. He moved almost on autopilot as he called it back to its pokeball. Volo stood distressed, too, by how he was down to his last pokemon. The poor Togekiss looking worse for wear as he carefully raised a hand to console it. Both men's perceived cruelness fading when forced to witness something they care about in pain.

Volo looked at you desperately. You were the only thing he had been searching for in this current era. His plans to force the deity into his bidding paused until he could finally share words with you again. Why did you have a boyfriend? He was in denial, nearly. You moved to comfort Cyrus, but Volo grabbed your wrist. Panting breaths came from him. Your eyes met his desperate ones.

“Please,” he begged, “Speak with me.” You gazed at him in suspicion. Volo was unsure how to prove his genuineness. Dropping your shoulders, you shot a glance back to Cyrus. He ready to interfere should he be required. Team Galactic was not truthfully disbanded after all. A few grunts could easily be among the crowd.

Should you…? You let out a shallow breath. It had been a century for him since everything, even if it was not for you. On the other hand, you truly wished for the quiet domestic moment with Cyrus, an adorable Rotom themed beverage having brought you here.

Hisui was something you wanted to put behind you as you focused on helping Sinnoh in the modern day.

You…

☄️ Shook your head at Volo and pulled your wrist away from him.

You stepped towards Cyrus, finding his arm around your shoulders protectively. It was obvious he was just distressed by Volo as you were. His usually logical train of thought as he acted emotionally to compensate. The blond's eyes were wide at your choice, seeing truly how uncomfortable he made you. He knew this was entirely his fault.

Volo had threatened your life. Even if he truly did not intend to kill you, his words still had a profound effect. He had lied to you and tricked you into doing his bidding before attacking you. It was foolish of him to think he could ever try to explain himself. Had Cyrus done those things to you? He had no way to be certain. His head was hung low as he silently turned away to leave you both.

His heart ached in his chest as he departed into the rocky cliffs of the neighbouring route.

You stood close to Cyrus as he left and the crowd finally dispersed. A few remaining, obviously looking at the Galactic Boss knowingly. He shot them a glare, and they, too, left. His hand took your own as he gently brought you into the café. The quieter, relaxed ambience was a needed change.

You perked up slightly as you ordered the Rotom cookies and teas for you both. Cyrus gazed at the confections silently. They were decorated with different berry flavoured icing depending on the form. The tea steamed from its cup as you were eerily silent. He sighed. You had been so happy to drag him here earlier. His hand clenched.

Cyrus hated seeing you upset.

“… Beloved,” his voice was as soft as he could possibly make it, “Are you alright?” His hand came to grasp yours on the table. It always felt strange for him to be so… vulnerable, but for you, he always felt so unfortunately tender. You let out a shaky breath and gripped his hand tightly. He watched as you looked up at him, your eyes were red, but a smile was forced on your face.

“I'm fine,” you attempted to reassure him, “I just… never expected to see anyone from Hisui again.” His eyes broke contact from yours to look at the cookies. The tale was nearly too fantastical for him to believe. You had appeared in an unfamiliar uniform while rushing into the Galactic HQ. It was much more believable as you told him of his ancestor who established his lineage in Sinnoh which you should have otherwise been unaware of.

“I see…” He nodded. Silence came over you both again. Conversation was never a talent that came to Cyrus. Your grip remained strong on his hand. “I cannot imagine what you went through, but I am grateful you made it back here.” You laughed weakly.

“I only wanted to come back to be with you again,” you admitted quietly and gazed at him with a loving expression, “Leaving you alone after everything was the cruellest thing I could imagine. I never want to put you through that, Cy. I love you.” He felt his chest grow warm. Did you truly come back just for him? Cyrus did not know how to respond. Returning after he lied to you about his actions and forcing you to learn of them as he committed them… You should have hated him.

“I love you, too,” the words felt foreign on his tongue but were spoken earnestly, “Thank you for coming back to me…” You smiled brightly, mood seemingly lifted. Freeing his hand, you picked up one of the cookies and held it out to him.

“Well… Let's forget it for now,” the wash Rotom cookie smelling heavily of Oran berries, “Aren't they just adorable? We should have brought Rotom with us!”

Despite the lightened mood, Volo remained heavy on both your minds.

⭐️ Nodded at him and politely excused yourself to Cyrus and followed Volo into a nearby alleyway.

The crowd was gone from you both as Volo took off his hat and looked up at the sliver of blue sky that shone above you both. His brain was obviously miles away from where you both were… Or maybe just years. Where did he begin? Would you listen to what he had to say completely? He wanted to just force you away from that Cyrus and pretend he did not exist. It had been that way never even twenty minutes ago for him, after all.

“I'm sorry,” he turned his gaze to stare into your eyes, “I know how I acted was unforgivable.” You wanted to jump back at his words, clearly not expecting an apology. “I am not giving up on my goals, let my clarify,” his eyes held the same corrupted devotion as they had at the Temple of Sinnoh, “My intentions were never to kill you.” You shot a suspicious look at him.

Naturally, you would not believe him. “I was single-mindedly focused on my goals,” he explained further, “I could not stand the idea that Arceus sent another to stop me, yet I was intrigued by whom it would dare choose over me.” Volo closed his eyes. The wound was still fresh despite the time it had been first inflicted on him. “I was infatuated with you,” his heart tightened in his chest, “I… I wished to seek you out after it all, but the guards were too suspicious of me, then you left for here.” Your cheeks grew warm at his words.

Still, you turned your head to the opening of the alleyway. Volo was much too late in this confession, for both himself and you. He should have told you before, claiming that Giratina would appear at the Temple of Sinnoh. What did this man have that he lacked? Cyrus did not seem to have any appealing qualities at a glance. A stoic with an unconventional attractiveness.

“… What do you want, Volo?” you asked him plainly, eyes piercing right through him. It was a reasonable question. What did he want? For you to break up with your established boyfriend and join him in his isolated cabin in the wilderness of Sinnoh? Yes, actually, but he did not dare reply like that. But, he could start smaller, certainly. His end goal would always to be to have you in his arms. Cyrus was not worthy of someone chosen by Arceus. Only Volo was.

“A friend,” it was not entirely a lie, “I'm terribly lonely. I barely get out of my home, and when I do, it's to explore ruins and archaeological sights. I get mistaken for my descendant and have no one to confide in.” You looked at him with a gentle expression. His smile had to be forced back. Hook, line and sinker. Your guard finally dropped.

“… I… I do miss the people of Hisui,” you admitted softly, “I left them all to return here. I... I feel conflicted about that decision.” Volo placed a hand on our shoulder amicably and grinned his normal smile. Perfect.

“Then let's keep in contact,” he pulled out his old phone, “I would love to speak about the past.” You gave him your number with a nod.

You soon parter from him to rejoin the blue-haired man, who had begun to look into the alleyway to check in you. He tried to ignore his upset as Cyrus bright his arm across your shoulders to lead you away.

Patience would win him this game, he felt certain.

[barbiesdelicioustoes]

Academic rival!Scaramouche x Barista Fem!Reader.

Summary: Somehow, fate finds your suffering very amusing and blatantly cursed you with unfortunate events that involves your detested nemesis.

A/!: a crust of rdirt went uo iny m eyelids and RUINED MY PRECIOUS SLEEP FOR 3 DAYS STRAIGHT BECAUSE I KEPT SCRATCHING IR– so yeah, wrote this with a glossy red eye but its ok. oh and, alot of cursing!!

The chimes of the bell snaps you out of your reverie, rushing to the counter to tend to the customer. Working part-time during exam seasons truly is a nightmare, you've been running all day due to numerous students flooding the café to prepare for the examination.

A group of three highschoolers enthusiastically greets you and orders a few pastries and confectionery, though it did take a while due to their squabbles on what to pick. One named Hu tao aggressively tugs at the sleeves of their friend when he comes back to order another set of 5 popsicles for the third time.

An hour had passed, and the sunlight that once illuminated the surroundings slowly dissipates into the shadows as the once bright sky turns into an inky hue of blue. With that, you finally called it a day. A colleague calls for your name, telling you to enter the manager's room.

Upon your entry, your manager—grandma—flashes you a fond smile that spoke gratefulness. In return, a small smile crept to your face as you slightly bow at her. A gentle sweep of her index finger gestures you to the wooden stool.

With a mellow voice, she asks, "My dear, I'm planning on hiring a new worker. Is that okay?"

The unease in her tone makes you ponder on what was so wrong about hiring this new worker she spoke of, nonetheless you ignore it and chirp with a gleeful smile, "Of course, it's not a problem." And your grandmother returns your smile with fondness. "Expect to meet him next month, okay?"

"Mhm!"

--

"...What is the answer for this question–"

Not even two seconds later, you raise your hand amidst the crowd of students still scribbling in their notebooks. What you didn't notice however was another hand also raised confidently a split second prior to yours, and with this, your teacher lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Scaramouche, what's the answer?" You turn to the direction the teacher points, and your nemesis smirks at your glare. "Ten." He confidently answers and much to your dismay, he was right, and your teacher confirms that by a single word, "Correct."

A following of questions was asked along with you and your nemesis constantly battling each other by who can answer the most questions and who gets the most right answers, even your classmates could barely get a hold of a question because of how fast you two would raise your hand.

And after a whole hour of defeated glares and triumphant chuckles, the teacher congratulates you two for being the most annoying active students out of all he has ever stumbled upon as he prepares to go to his next class.

You and Scaramouche exchange disdainful glares for the last time you see him for the day.

--

Three days pass by and exams were over in the blink of an eye, but the current question stands, "who will get the exclusive book you and your nemesis have been eyeing?"

The two of you happen to have stumbled the same problem back a month ago, you wanted the thrilling novel that became your daily rants and Scaramouche also wanted the same novel out of curiosity and spite, mostly from spite though.

And since there was only one left in the bookstore, the librarian easily solved the problem by reserving it for the two of you but was left surprised by the mutual refusal. The poor librarian had witnessed the entire altercation between the two rivals, however it soon ended with your final conclusion,

"Whoever gets a bigger score than the other by the end of the exam, gets the book."

Hell week, at last, was over and you can finally get your beloved book. So with a deep breath and your glare that twinkled with fire and desperation to attain the book, you counted from one to three.

"One.. two... three."

"One hundred!" – "Ninety nine."

A wave of jubilation washed away the prior nervousness that lingered in the pits of your stomach as you stuck your tounge out at the frozen man infront of you.

Noticing his dejected form, you paid for the book and lightly tap his shoulder.

"I'll let you borrow later, hm?"

The sky is painted with a deep orange blended with a soft pink hue, along with the clouds that reflected the color. You take your phone out from your pocket, holding it up in the sky as you move around to get a good angle. When you let your phone down to admire the pictures, its camera catches a particular figure you're not so excited to see.

Scaramouche halts in his tracks, equally confused as you. Averting your gaze, you went back to ignoring him and take more pictures of the ethereal sky. You did try your best to ignore him fully but seeing that he went to the direction you were supposed to go, you can't help but presume that his house may be near the cafe.

But you find the idea ridiculously irritating so you wave it off and stroll towards the café.

Half an hour has passed, the café finally comes in view after leisurely walking around, and kicking rocks to take your time. Inside the cafe is flooded with an unusual long line of people and your colleague going here and there while displaying a wavering smile at the overwhelming amount of people.

A chime of the bell catches everyone's attention and all of a sudden, you feel very unwelcomed. An apologetic smile crosses your features, before dropping once you recognize their uniforms. Nevertheless, the urge to escape their gaze continuously bothers you as you place your ID in the table.

Your colleague—Ayaka—pulls the edge of your bag, stumbling you towards her, and whispers into your ear, "The new worker is here!" Then, a flash of your grandmother's words courses through you. You remain still in your position, processing what your colleague and grandmother told you.

'Ah. That's why.'

Though it did answer a few questions, it failed to answer the reason why there is a huge line of people from your school. And so, you glance at the crowd before curiously asking Ayaka, "Why is there a lot of people though?"

"Uhm–the newbie is sorta attractive and a lot of girls pass by here so they saw him and then they decided to enter the cafe to see him."

'Oh. Now that makes sense.'

"So it's his turn today?" Ayaka nods her head with a hum. Your curiosity was now deemed satisfied therefore there was no time to be idling around, and you hurriedly run into the manager's room. Completely missing the new worker's shocked gaze that followed your figure.

As usual, your grandmother greets with optimism despite the galling squeals outside and carefully props your bag near her table. "The café sure is lively at night." She mutters, as you start to change out of your uniform. "I can't even imagine what it might be like tomorrow." A chuckle escapes her chapped lips, and the sound relieves you.

You open the door with a click after changing, taking a deep breath to prepare for the horde of people, only to be greeted with two girls who can't stop squealing and giggling at, what you presumed to be, the worker. The sight is annoying as it is.

So with garnered courage, you stand by the worker's side and attempt to shoo off the girls with an indignant glare. Of course, it did not work so to top it off, "Get out or I'll ban you from coming here." With a sweet tone coated with sarcasm, still not aware of the perplexed gaze your fellow new colleague sent you. As expected, the girls run off towards the door in fear of never seeing their crush again.

"Well now that's that," followed by a huff as you place your hands on your hips, and you proudly steer your gaze at the poor newbie, "So, how are you liking–" only for your nemesis to come in view, an astounded expression splayed across his features instead of the usual scowl you see in his face everyday.

The abrupt silence even concerned the other worker as you two stared at each other simultaneously as if asking, "why are you here?"

At last, Ayaka shatters the intense tension by accidentally turning off the lights then apologizing sheepishly. "Sorry, [Name]. I pity our new barista though." She jokingly says to lighten the mood, but ceased to continue due to the harsh glare you've been giving him in which he simply averts it all.

After a good 30 minutes of deliberately avoiding Scaramouche as you clean the café, the bothersome alarm beeps on your phone and you rush to shut it up. "Hey, [Name], shouldn't you go home by now?" Ayaka asks, giggling at your disheveled state.

"Huh? Ah, ye–" You suddenly shiver, feeling someone's scorching leers behind you. 'Guess I still have to answer some questions.'

"Nope, I'll go home with our dear new barista here." You innocently smile, and she tilts her head, wondering if you're being sarcastic or not. But she shrugs it off and goes to the staff room to change her clothes without a clue on the tense atmosphere.

Scaramouche idly stands near the counter, watching every move you make. His fierce expression reminiscents you of a cat that harbors a murderous intent, and is off to lacerate your skin with its claws. But in your case, his glare alone pricks tiny needles on your skin.

A few minutes pass of you tending to your tasks while Scaramouche simply expresses interest at the utensils to distract himself from maliciously staring at you for too long. You can practically feel just how awkward it feels right now, with the way both of you occasionally exchange glances, seeminly wanting to approach the other and throw unwanted questions.

But then a thought strucks you, 'It's just Scaramouche, what am I so scared for?'

And so, you chuck your nervousness down to the murky depths of your mind as you reluctantly approach him. His eyes meets yours and you part your mouth, "how did get you here?"

He chuckles, subtly amused by the way you outrightly ask him with the same question that's been bugging him perpetually since he has seen you in the same outfit as him. But as usual, his indifferent and snarky façade takes over and an audacious scoff escapes his lips.

"Curious, are we?"

"Oh don't kid around, I know you're also curious."

A click of his tounge confirms another of your curiosity, but it does not sate your confusion. "Well?" You try again, and this time he finally answers, "the manager offered my Aunt this job, but she refused so she gave it to me instead." He explains, hoping you wouldn't ask him any more questions. He's inwardly sweating bullets at this point.

A small smile creeps to your face as your hand reaches to pat his shoulder, "Haha, what are you so nervous for?" – "What a two-face." Of course, he had to ruin the mood you had set up to ease the tension. A vein nearly pops in your temple when he pushes your hand off of his shoulder.

'Asshole, I was just trying to be nice.'

And Ayaka comes strolling in and is confused at your foul mood.

--

Ah, right. Did I ever mention that luck seems to stray far away from your direction?

The very second you open the door, your friends pull you and roughly drags you to your seats. And before you can even garner a thought, Your friend surrounds you with an aura that terrifies you, one that usually calls for any type of lecture for something you've done. But instead, their eyes glimmer with the very same confusion as you have.

"Dude, are you and Scara dating?" Aether questions, disregarding your utterly bewildered state. Heizou, the one who dragged you, bursts into laughter at the way your expression twists to a scrunched up nose and mouth ajar at the absurd nonsensical question your friend had sputtered.

You're about to retort when Kokomi fishes her phone out of her pink bag and shows you a photo of both you and your nemesis smiling and conversing like a pair of couple, very nearly choking in your own spit when you see the amount of likes just below the photo.

Out of all ludicrous bullshit you've heard and seen throughout your entire college life, the post and Aether's question easily declares itself as "top 1 bullshit of all time." Shame and humiliation engulfed your prior serene mood as your group shows genuine concern when you slump in the chair and make no sign of life.

You are utterly fucked. Both in school and at the café.

Aether and Heizou scrutinizes your figure, but does not make a move on your miserable corpse whose soul decided to take a break from the divine curses someone has casted on you.

"Yikes, imagine being shipped by your three-year rival." Aether chuckles, poking your arm as an attempt to cheer you up.

"I'm gonna cry my ass off when this turns into an academic rivals to lovers trope."

"Add the 137k words with mutual pining and slow burn."

"Don't forget the last updated at 2016," Heizou adds, sneaking a glance at your dying state, "Still ongoing, by the way."

The three of them continues to chatter about your situation, occasionally giving you pats to comfort you. But your panicked mind can barely have the time to think about them anyway, as they were dulled under the sound of countless thoughts spiralling around your head.

You only pray that no one will pester you on your way home.

--

Of course, you are proven wrong.

If you were to describe your journey from your classroom to the gate alone, it was certainly like you were some sort of famous celebrity who tried to wander around, inconsiderate of the fact that people will undoubtedly recognize your face and interrogate personal matters. Luckily, you managed to get pass and deal with them smoothly with the assistance of your friends.

Just when you reach the street where the café resides, a few featherlight waterdrops trickles at your arm, alerting you of an incoming downpour. Sliding down the other sleeve of your backpack, your hand reaches behind and slides inside as you rummage through your things to find an umbrella.

Notebooks, pencil cases, papers–

You don't have an umbrella, instantly recalling the spot you had placed the item, specifically the shoe rack at the café. Before you could curse about it, the light rain mockingly laughs at you and the prior raindrops turn into something much, much more heavier, soaking your hair first and then your entire body.

'Haha, what the heck?'

In your peripheral vision, a stray cat stares at you with dilated pupils under the protective shade of a rooftop as unwanted shock refuses to let you move. The cat's soft meows finally eases your frustrated mind, and you hurry to take cover underneath a tree beside the sign that shows the name of the street.

You press your foot further into the sole of your shoes and it lets out a squeaky sound that further irritates you more as you sputter, "I'm very offended, mothernature. what did I ever do to you?" And as if it heard you, a deafening roar of thunder attacks your ears so close behind you as a warning. You take it as your cue to close your mouth shut.

The sounds of pitter-patter rain is soothing, even though you had quite a ton of obnoxious events today, it effortlessly washes all of the pent up emotions that you had to hold in. 'It wouldn't be bad to stay here for awhile,' your body crouch down and you hug your knees, careful to not let your skirt get wet underneath you.

Your shift was nearly at 8:00pm anyways, and it was barely the start of the evening, so it wouldn't hurt to be a little late, right?

For a brief moment, your eyes absorb the breathtaking view infront of you when the streetlights turns on. It was a natural habit for you to remember the schedule on when the streetlights switches on, and when it turns off with how frequent you've been coming.

And so, that alone tells you that it is currently 6:00pm but a thought to start moving had not crossed your mind.

Next to your right, is an uphill street that leads you to the supposed destination and luckily, the area around the café is mostly filled with wild animals in the forest that the head of the street sternly restricted vehicles to prevent extinction. Which resulted in people not liking the rules so they blatantly ignored the street.

That lessens the risk of kidnappers appearing to take yo–

A faint splatter of water causes you to rapidly whip your head to the source of sound while unpleasant emotions swirls around your stomach and the feeling of it tightens your chest with nothing but dread. The prior sounds of raindrop is muted over the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat.

A short stature starts to loom out of darkness and prowls towards you. Adrenaline begins to flood your veins, eyes glued to the shady person in case they do something funny. After multiple seconds of anticipating any action they might do, the dim light of the lamp finally reveals the figure, and its widened indigo eyes catches your panicked gaze.

And for a moment, a twinkle of guilt sparks in his irises before scurrying in your direction. "You idiot! Do you even know how worried your grandma is!?" He exclaims, before freezing when he notices your damp hair.

He stops in his tracks when he's close enough beside you, reaching a hand out to you with a closed umbrella in his palm. With a faint click of his tounge, he hesitantly mutters, "...you look like you got dumped."

"Still as annoying as ever, I see." You breathe out a deep sigh, ignoring his outstretched arm and turning your head to the much more interesting puddle infront of you.

"Are you going to take it or not?"

"Isn't it your shift today?"

He grunts, "stop dodging my question."

Rolling your eyes, you shoot up from your seat and begrudgingly accept the umbrella. "How do you know my grandmother?" You ask as you open the umbrella, he darts his eyes to you then to the umbrella, "I.. Ayaka told me." That receives him a short nod of your head, together with a hum.

Both of you start heading towards the café in silence, albeit strained, it was more comfortable compared to the times where it was unbearable due to the contempt and hatred that lingered in the air. The heavy downpour died down shortly after you started to utilize your umbrella, even Scaramouche surprisingly noticed and mockingly commented on your unfortunate luck.

"Oh yeah," you turn around to face him, "where were you earlier at school?"

Scaramouche furrows his eyebrows, and murmurs a simple excuse, "I had to help my aunt." He tilts his head slightly upwards and gestures for you go forward. Even so, you strangely feel the urge to converse normally with him today. "What's she like?" His mouth parts to answer but the squeaking of your shoes interrupts him.

"...we should hurry up."

You only let out small 'yeah' as you glare at your damped and noisy sneakers to shut up.

--

After that incident, everything became more unexpectedly pleasant. You used to be convinced that there were more to come and haunt you with far more insignificant bothersome occasions, however they never showed up.

Like for an instance, the dating rumours that made you have sleepless nights slowly died down due to your friend's terrifying threats and warnings to leave you alone. Actually, knowing their reputation as a band, Ayaka covertly requested to end the rumours once and for all wherein they all complied.

And then, several weeks later, his friend, Childe, frequently started to joyously visit the café accompanied by his younger siblings who soughts for unwelcomed trouble and confectionaries that will surely impose a great danger for their teeth due to the increasingly alarming amount of candies they purchase everyday.

Since he started to visit, more people began to flood the cafe, much to your grandmother's satisfaction. Most of his visits consists of bugging Scaramouche with his strange tales and hilarious stories, and yours along with Ayaka's presence doesn't go unnoticed. He often makes you two join their conversation, all of which are mostly unsuccessful due to how busy you are.

---

Your relationship with Scaramouche progressed into something you've never even imagined before; a decent friendship.

It initially started when a stern substitute teacher deliberately paired you with him, paying no mind of the brief gasps of shock and faint 'ooh' of your fellow classmates. He reasoned when you both pleaded for another partner, "what? it's not like you're going to commit something illegal, right?" And all of the students in the room had their jaw dropped into the ground at the bravery of their teacher.

Worse yet, this project had points that will noticeably increase your grades and it needed two people for it to finish. So as you silently cursed at fate, you reluctantly obliged to his request to meet up at the café and get it done.

"You're not supposed to do it like that–!" He says as he snatches the pen from your grasp, scrawling away the numbers that you have made. Your gaze oddly lingered at your fingers that had initiated subtle contact with his, as he does his own solution.

Immediately after a few minutes, he curtly stopped upon finishing and looked at you dead in the eye, successfully tearing your gaze away from your hand. A puckish smirk grew on your lips at his dumbfounded state of realization. "It is like that, you airhead."

Most of the two days was blatant arguing and disagreeing each other's idea out in public instead of actually acting on doing the project. But nevertheless, it was finished within a week and the teacher that assigned you both was satisfied with the immaculate presentation.

The other adults heard of it and began to blatantly pair the two of you, as if they hadn't seen the altercations that had occured between the two of you in the past. Your group quietly bursted into laughter when they once witnessed the strained smiles and stiff interactions infront of the amazed yet oblivious teachers.

--

Whenever one of you get sick, the teacher would hand them the other's worksheet, telling them to give it to the other once they feel better. The first time that happened was when you were sick with an abnormally high fever and it was the weekend when you got better.

A ring in your doorbell stops you from whatever you were doing and you scramble to open the door. Lo and behold, your detested nemesis greets you with a sweet sarcastic grin and crossed arms. Despite the gradual pounding of your heartbeat, you yell, "why the heck are you here!?" His prior expression drops and was now replaced with a frown.

"Why are you so noisy in the morning? Relax, I'm just here to give you your worksheets." Before you can open your mouth, he quickly adds, "Heizou sent Kazuha your address and Kazuha sent it to me so I can give these to you."

'Does he know how to read minds or what?'

He hands out a folder with your name neatly written in a small font at the top, and his gaze points at the item. Then an idea pops up in your head and a small smile graces your lips as you take the folder from his hands, "do you wanna come in?"

That resulted to unintelligible words slipping from his mouth as a vague yet noticeable rosy color slowly tint his pale cheeks. You repeatedly blink at his reaction, wondering if you had said something wrong. His mouth thins into a line upon noticing your reaction and attempts to obscure his flustered expression by coughing into his fist (in which he fails miserably).

"Yeah, sure. Do you have lavender melon?"

"Your whole face is red–"

"Shut up. Do you have the fruit or not?"

"...your face is still–"

"Shut up!"

During that very same day, your mother unexpectedly enters your room and threw you an impish snicker when Scaramouche hastily introduces himself as your friend, missing the subtle blush in your ears at your mother's knowing actions.

After that, you randomly ask him while watching a horror movie if he really was your friend and he carelessly confirms by a tiny nod of his head, too engrossed at the story to ponder about it.

It is currently spring.

Exactly ten months after Scaramouche made its appearance on the café and the fortuitous events that led both of you no choice but to tolerate fate's puerile schemes.

However, it seems the two of you unconsciously wandered off on your own since fate left to deal with other matters.

You've met his mother, he's met yours. He barges into your house every week, and you crash into his once a month (only once a month because of his peculiar insistence on not letting you visit). He doesn't call you with insults that typically pissed you to no end, and you constantly stop yourself from spitting out vulgar words directed to him.

He once slept at your place, you once ate at his. He's slept at your shoulder thrice while you slept on his lap twice. He only calls you idiot, dumbass and the specific nickname that he shamelessly stole from you; airhead. But as a not-so apology, he gave you the permission to call him; Kunikuzushi.

With every tale you share to your friends, it still remains a mystery to them as to why both of you never bothered to step further into the line of something more than just a friendship. Actually, it's more like, you will cross the line but in order to cross that, you have to acknowledge your feelings.

And the problem is, you're too afraid to admit your feelings to avoid hurtful rejection despite the painfully patent signs of reciprocated desire.

And sometimes, just sometimes, you reluctantly allow the myriad of what ifs plague your somnolent mind as the gleams of moonlight serves as an admirable scene to let your mind wander.

--

Scaramouche vehemently eyes the white envelope on the table with a wrinkled nose and knitted eyebrows. His eyes darts from the love letter to the giddy smile plastered on your face. After minutes of silence, Scaramouche heaves out a sigh, "[Name], I told you to reject the love letters."

Your prior smile drops and you excessively roll your eyes at his words, "Isn't Lumine fine though?" Your voice, albeit small, emanates with genuine admiration and envy, and he absolutely loathes the ardent words that doesn't deserve to be coated with your awestruck tone.

Kazuha did always tell him to confess sooner or the privilege of simply being with you inevitably slips from his grasp. And yet, he does nothing. Not when you look dazzling while you babble about how lovely Lumine is, not when you blindly push him to her with huge expectations, not when your smile is enough to stop him from boldly rejecting her love.

But still, if he doesn't do anything at this point, he's really going to lose you.

.. atleast that's what he thinks.

He clicks his tounge in an unnecessary volume, "throw it away." As he slides the paper away from him. "Aw, come on. Just try to read it, please?" He doesn't even spare you a glimpse, his eyes resolutely glued to the wall beside him.

"Fine," you mumble in defeat as you shove the envelope in your bag.

"Why are you so insistent about this anyway?" His prying eyes lock onto yours, crossing his arms. "I don't even like her, I'm pretty sure you're aware of that."

'I don't know either. Perhaps I'm just using this as an opportunity to get rid of whatever I feel when I'm with you..' is what you want to say but all that comes out of your mouth is a half hearted chuckle, "both of you suit each other, so why not just give it a try?" His look speaks disbelief at your reason, fully unconvinced and more suspicious of you.

"I'm not believing that."

"You never believe my words though." You lean back on your chair, breathing out a sigh.

"That's because it's purely nonsense."

"Then is it still nonsense if I said I liked you–" For a split second after the abrupt halt, your mind blanks. And the next, as if it was instinct, your palm swiftly grasps your mouth close, mind stirring into a whirlpool of uncountable thoughts.

'Did he hear me? I'm sure I just whispered it but still–'

Even the ruffles of the trees is audible from outside whereas a sound nor word was completely gone from the seat across you. And you would've thought he mercilessly left you if it wasn't for the visible shoe underneath the table.

So with mustered up courage, you reluctantly glimpse at him with the tinest crane of your head. And you swear your breath got taken away when he comes in view with widened eyes who cuaght your gaze the second you looked at him, the same rosy colour that went up from his neck to his porcelain cheeks, and a quivering parted mouth.

Even when your heart is hammering against your chest and the heat that is gradually flaring your ears, you subconsciously mutter, "You.. you look like an idiot, Kuni."

This time, he doesn't remind you of a malicious cat anymore. He reminds you of that one teenage boy who confessed to their crush and he ended up getting flustered with all the stuttering and flushed faces. But in your case, you're the one who carelessly confessed and yet you're the only one who feels rather calm?

Perhaps after seeing that expression of his, all your doubts and anxieties flew out of the window and practically answered all the questions in your heart. After a few moments of complete silence, he still remains frozen and you have already calmed down while he looks like the humanoid of a ripe tomato.

"Raiden Scaramouche?" Nope.

"My about to be four-year nemesis?" Still not it.

"Kunikuzushi?" Okay, he's still staring at you with his mouth slightly open and you worry if a fly goes inside it.

"I'm serious, it's been five minutes since you had that expression, Kuni." You stood up from your seat and walked to his seat as you carefully reach for his forehead to assess his temperature.

He flinched and then grabbed your wrist so unexpectedly. "Did you finally–" "Say it again." His tone is hushed and you can't take your eyes away from his flushed face. You respond, raising a brow, "Say what?" – "What you said earlier."

You blink twice, wondering what he's talking about before realizing he meant your accidental confession. You can feel your ears burning at his request but you've already made a fool out of yourself anyways.

"I said, is it still nonsense if I said I liked you?"

You already know his answer by the way his irises sparkled with hope upon hearing your words.

"Alright, Childe, pay up."

Childe blinks at the shorter man, "what? Why?"

"[Name] just called me saying she's dating him now."

Three heads simultaneously turned their heads towards Heizou, demanding an explaination with their blazing eyes. "Woah woah, calm down," he defensively waves both of his hands, "[Name] ended the call after saying that, is all."

The blond widely grins as Childe grunts while taking out his wallet. "I told you, Lumine would be a great help!"

"Huh? Lumine?" Kazuha spins his gaming chair towards Aether who's too busy counting the amount of money paper in his hands and therefore cannot answer. Deflates upon realizing he won't answer then perks up when Kokomi provides the explanation for him.

"Aether basically asked Xingqiu to write five love letters, and then after, he told Lumine about his plan which.." she places her finger on her chin, "Oh. He told Lumine to act like she's inlove with Scaramouche and give him the letters through [Name]."

"What about Aether's bet?"

"Oh that? Aether had a bet with Childe that both of them will confess by the fourth letter."

Heizou chuckles at the ginger who's glaring daggers at the blond, "they really just needed a little push." All of them nod their head in agreement.

"Also Childe, you owe me Katsu Sandwich."

A/N: if you use your brain, you can see how my writing style literally changes in each scene. Ov well, I wrote it in different days anywahs.

[liyazaki]

the twist of a knife

"I am the knife. I am all blade.” -Clementine von Radics

falling down symbolism rabbit holes isn't really my bag. unless it's laid out for the audience in crystal-clear terms that "yes, X was indeed meant to mean Y" (by the writers or the script itself), I don't dedicate much mental energy to those elements in my fiction.

but something about that knife- the visceral image of Pete gripping it by the blade for dear agonizing life was haunting me. I kept circling back to the opening conversation on the bed, and the moment where Vegas' rage went up in smoke- and again, that knife. then it hit me.

like knives forged just so, no one can hurt Pete or Vegas quite like they can. and not just because of their mutual vulnerability, their love, for each other- like @ellaspore said to me, how deep they get under each other's skin.

it's their fundamental struggles, their shame, who they are at their core: if people can be 'made' for each other, Vegas and Pete were also made just so to perfectly hurt the other.

the first blow came from Vegas. lying together in the afterglow, of all the things Vegas could say, he said: "you're just a fool." just four words- pretty benign-sounding, all horrible things Vegas has said before considered.

Pete didn't have some explosive reaction, either. and that makes sense- a quiet knife slipped between the ribs is too exact, too surgical for all that. instead, Pete turned his face slowly away from Vegas, suddenly lost in his thoughts- while Vegas, still grinning in lighthearted ignorance, followed his movement with his hand, stroking Pete's face. Pete's far away now, though, his gaze focused on the ceiling.

we start to see the damage when we cut back to Pete later. Pete- who just last episode was chastising Vegas for "being stupid" for hurting himself- now slaps himself in the face. "I don't like it. so why didn't I say no?"

the killing cut was delivered when Pete's worst fear- that all of this loss and fear and pain was for nothing- was confirmed by Vegas' attack. there was no righteous rage left in Pete, hollowed out by the realization that he "has nothing left."

in his compassion, in his curiosity about this wounded, broken man- he's afraid he's lost everything. who he is, what he stands for, his self-respect, his pride- he's been stripped bare. not just by everything Vegas has done to him, but by the depth of his feelings for him in spite of it all.

that one little phrase, those four little words from Vegas cut to the heart of Pete's fears: he's not only lost it all, some of those things against his will- but the rest was by his own submission. his own volition. the definition of a fool.

on the other beautifully-tragic side of the coin, Pete cut Vegas at his emotional knees in a way no one else could. even after abusing Pete, beating him, treating him so inhumanely- darkness can only run from the light for so long. Vegas found a sliver of genuine happiness just by having Pete in his sphere.

after a lifetime of wretchedness, of thinking this misery is all life has to offer, that there's no way out- Vegas' world started to crack open for the first time in that room.

seeing Pete completely lose his joy, his humanity, his will to keep going- and knowing that he was the one that caused it- was the only thing that could snap Vegas out of his rage. and it was the reality hitting of losing him that nearly broke Vegas. he is the monster- just like he always feared.

it's also not just the idea of ruining this man he's come to love- it's the ruination of hope. of a different way of living, existing, being. no one else could deal as deep of a blow- even though Vegas himself is really the one that dealt it.

and yet- and yet. just like the agonizing way Pete let that blade cut deep into his palm, invited it, even- they can't help but hold on to the sweet agony of their connection. even after freeing himself from his imprisonment, Pete is breaking apart. Vegas is leveled, shattered by his grief. they weep, they mourn- the cuts bleed.

sometimes, love is as much about grief as it is joy- to know that in a world that hurts so deeply, so frequently? the most vulnerable, aching parts of you are at another person's complete mercy.

that they hold your heart in their hands, and you can't just take it back. there's rage there, sometimes- shades of desperation, too.

horrible, beautiful, cruel, agonizing love- like the twist of a knife.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Hello! May I have a romantic adult matchups for JJK and Kny?

She/her

Gemini

Intp

5w4

Asexual/heteromantic

Chaotic Good

Appearance: 164cm. Brown wavy hair, dark Brown eyes. Curvy body I guess? I'm pale with visible beauty marks like on my lips. I wear glasses/sunglasses. I've been described as cute and a tease because I always bite my lips out of habit lol. I often have a tired/annoyed expression or a smile. I wear comfy clothes and even pj outside. Or cliché villain clothes, no in between. I try to wear gloves to stop myself from bitting my nails.

I appear as cold and very sarcastic. But I can be charismatic when I want. I'm always polite unless I dislike you (you'll know it because I become passive agressive). How I act depends on how you act with me, unless I'm in a bad mood. In that case I isolate to not break hearts too much. I act flirty around my friends and is known for sometimes playing with hearts (I'm oblivious to it). I'm petty and can go very far out of spite or vengeance. I curse a lot and will call you out on your bullshit with no issue no matter who you are.

I'm moody and not a morning person AT ALL. I'm brutally honest and it affected some friendships because people sometimes won't dare to approach me. I'm also socially obvious to a lot of things. I'm very curious and have a short attention spawn.

Getting along with me is easy peasy. As long as you're not whiny or a hypocrite we will get along. Now getting to know me is....nearly impossible. No friend of mine has managed to make me spill my problems even thought they share theirs and I help them out. My trust issues and daddy issues are too important for that lol. I don't open up and bottle my feelings all the time till I shut down or explode. I isolate a lot when I have problems or I'm just thinking (I love daydreaming). I'm rebellious but also a smooth talker. My friends know I have good intentions and would never wrong an innocent person. I'm the smart but reckless friend cuz I'll always hype up bad ideas for fun. I can be a bit naive. Even thought I have morbid curiosity and shared dubious experimental ideas....morals ain't my Forte. I'm more logical than emotional. I'm ambitious and can't stand my own failure. But I'm also lazy and a procrastinator which is a terrible combo. I'm always willing to debate and learn new things because knowledge is very important to me. I'm creative and innovative, I know when to get to business. I'm very competitive and try to hide it. Yeah I have an ego, so what? if you don't have a solid argument with me, I'll destroy you.

Despite that, I joke a lot and never take anything seriously. It happens that I underestimate people (I beat them later sooo). I'm a big tease and love to rile up people and see them get angry. I subtly insult people when they piss me off.

Because of that, I get very lonely and I'm misunderstood. I don't recognize my own feelings and mask that pretty well as it fools everyone. i don't consider myself to be a good person for some reasons. I envy easily and get annoyed easily because I want to succeed above all lol.

Hobbies: Reading (mystery, thriller, fantasy), true crime, video games, manga, drawing, baking, fighting sports (sparing and shooting), learning, daydreaming. I love space and mad scientists stories. My aesthetic is definitely related to those subjects as well as the sea and stars.

I'm insecure about my weight despite not being overweight.

In a relationship, I'm the most chill person. I don't get jealous or clingy. You can do whatever you want. I'm always here to give you advices because helping you out, giving you my time and giving you gifts is my love langage. It bothered my last boyfriend because he thought I wasn't emotionally present and isolated a lot (which I did. I warned him that I accepted out of boredroom and didn't love him but he still went ahead. Then he emotionally cheated on my bd and everyone noticed but me lol. I separated from those friends cuz none told me and I value honesty a lot). I love cuddles but I'll take time to accept physical touch. I enjoy a partner that can keep up with me and be patient and honest because I value honesty. I also love receiving gifts because uh...I grew up with them validating love. I hate whiny and cowardly people.

I speak Arabic, French and English. I'm an only child. I study electronics and want to work in space related studies.

Thank you!

(Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this and have a great day/night!)

I match you with..

Gyomei Himejima

- He’s a very patient and honest person.

- He won’t pry about any of your problems because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

- Once you feel comfortable with physical affection, he’ll happily cuddle with you for as long as you want. He prefers to cuddle when you’re ready to go to bed, so that you can sleep in his arms.

- He helps you spar, he’s hesitant about you sparring with him because he’s afraid that he’ll hurt you really bad.

- Loves your homemade baked goods. He thinks you bake really well.

- He’s a good listener and he’ll reassure you that you can come to him anytime about your problems and he’ll do his best to help you out.

- He likes to listen to you talk about your interests. For example, you telling him about the most recent chapter you’ve read, what you drew that day, etc.

Gojo Satoru

- No matter how hard it is to get to know you, he is determined. He’s also not scared off by your cold appearance or your brutal honesty.

- When he finds out that you love receiving gifts, the gifts will keep on coming (prepare to get spoiled)

- He also likes quality time with you, even if it’s the both of you just chilling around each other.

- Whenever you are reading next to him and he gets bored, he’ll sigh very dramatically to see if you’ll give him any attention.

- Sometimes you’ll find your glasses missing and when you go looking for them you’ll see them on him.

- It took him by surprise the first time that you flirted with him, but he instantly flirted back.

- He loves your rebellious side. The two of you get so chaotic sometimes and the others are so done with y’all’s shit lmao.

Masterlist

[thelivingautomaton]

so lately i've been curing my brainrot by listening to audiobooks while i crochet, the result being that i have gotten really, really into the wheel of time (which i've previously bounced off of like, 3 separate times) and also been tweeting about it. anyway i have finished the first book and simply must scream into the void about it

jesus, okay, where do i even begin. let's talk about characters

so i KNEW that mat was gonna be The Character Of All Time going right in, i am self-aware enough about what kinds of blorbos i enjoy (read: cocky roguish guy who is actually a sopping wet cat of a man and uses snark to obscure deep-seated angst and/or doubt in himself, his identity, and his goodness). and i do have an affection for mat at this point

although ngl it kind of totally went over my head when i last tried to read these books that he is also? kind of a dick this early on? though to be fair he was having his soul eaten by an evil dagger for like, two-thirds of the book

that being said. what i did NOT expect was for the dark horse surprise contenders for Character Of All Time to be nynaeve and rand

nynaeve is literally the funniest, pettiest bitch ever and i love her SO MUCH. literally what if you were a preternaturally gifted healer and given a position of authority at a very young age so you had a complex about it, but that complex manifests itself as a bullheaded stubborn drive to Take Care Of Your People, and you are ready to throw hands with every magic lady Jedi on the way because you are fueled by Pure Unadulterated Spite at all times

every time she'd try to start a catty slap fight with moiraine and moiraine would just, like, sip her tea unbothered? now THAT'S comedy

sidenote, dear lord do these characters drink a lot of tea. do they have coffee in this nebula. do they have new world crops. i feel like someone must have mentioned potatoes. where was i

oh my god, rand. RAND. literally WHAT IF you were a farmboy from the ass-end of nowhere and you get pulled into this fantastical adventure like a hero from legend, but you spend 700 pages having all of your assumptions about the world and yourself systemically questioned and tested and broken down. and the whole time you're holding onto the hope of going home and going back to the way things were, until you experience the crushing weight of the Hero's Journey and the fact that you can never really go home (read: go back to the simple life and the way things used to be) ever again

EXCEPT!!! THAT THERE IS ALSO WONDER AND EXCITEMENT AND CURIOSITY TOO!!! like, obviously i loved all the times that rand and the other farm kids are agog seeing different parts of the world (especially the cities -- dude, i LOVE the setup for caemlyn) but literally one of my favorite scenes was when rand is on the spray sitting at the top of the mast and he just starts laughing aloud for the freedom and joy of it all. the journey will be long and terrible and arduous but it's so important to show that there are bright moments on the way too. i'm going to puke

also there's a few moments between rand and the dark one (ba'alzamon? bro idk how anything is spelled) that were so *chef's kiss*, like rand telling him "i belong to myself" or in their big fight when he screams that he'll never be a hound for the dark one. more generally i love the emphasis placed on the importance and power of people taking a stand, even if they know it's futile. ESPECIALLY if they know it's futile. (there was this line from moiraine like "the wheel weaves as the wheel wills, but i refuse to believe it weaves an end to all hope". waugh)

also i know the reveal that rand can channel was telegraphed from a mile away but i ain't even mad about it because i feel like the setup was done so nicely. you get a scene of moiraine explaining to nynaeve about how channeling feels the first time you do it (i.e. you have the greatest need you've ever known, then a week later your body has a delayed reaction that feels like a weird flu), you get rand and mat escaping whitebridge via improbable lightning strikes, then you get rand coming down with a weird flu. like, idk, i like it when creators set up dominoes and i as a reader can SEE the dominoes getting set up and i get to go like, hoohoohoo, can't wait for those to get knocked down!

unsurprisingly since rand and nynaeve are my two favs i also am enamored with their dynamic. maybe it's because you're in rand's head the most in this book, and so it's the closest you as a reader are to seeing a straightforward platonic relationship between a male and female character? but okay like, listen. nynaeve is the FIRST PERSON (maybe the only person rn??) rand shares his fears with re: tam not being his dad and him not knowing who he is. and nynaeve immediately reassures him that it doesn't matter, she saw tam and kari with him and she KNOWS they loved him like any father and mother

or like, the scene when rand overhears lan and nynaeve having their whole Dramatic Star-Crossed Romance (which is like, cool, but also, can't wait for lan to get over his TTRPG Tragic Backstory [affectionate] and kiss her already), and the chapter ends with a line like "Rand closed his eyes. He did not think the Wisdom would like it if he saw her cry." good GOD!

how old are these kids supposed to be anyway. like i know nynaeve is older by a few years and she's...24? so are the rest 18-20ish? oh my god you guys, they're KIDS

i'm sure i will have more thoughts about the other characters as these books progress and shit continues to pop off and Get Funky (especially relevant vis a vis perrin going full wolf mode and egwene learning how to be an aes sedai). also i love how often it's repeated that people from the two rivers are The Most Stubborn People Alive, and how rand holds onto that as part of his identity (re: envisioning hardy two rivers soil)

now let us talk about the world because OH MY GOD

one of the things that definitely stuck with me was the secret hidden lore re: "this is actually post-post-post apocalyptic earth", cf. thom telling stories about "lenn flying to the skies in an eagle made of fire" and "salya walking among the stars", because it is so fucking insane as a concept and jordan does it REALLY WELL, in the sense that any references to "our" earth are so oblique and indirect that they're barely comprehensible, which is as it should be if these books take place a whole two ages later

but it's also such a perfect excuse/reason to deliberately echo and make homage to myths and stories that we as readers are familiar with, the most obvious being the legend of artur hawkwing (and also half of our main cast having arthurian-esque names). something something george lucas saying that it's like poetry, it rhymes

the part that really dropped me flat on my ass though was when perrin and egwene and elyas are leaving the tinkers and elyas LITERALLY recites anglican catechism at them ("as it once was, so shall it ever be, world without end"), reader i screamed

that being said. i do kind of wish there was more Weird Religion Bullshit. i mean it makes sense that the cosmology and people's theological beliefs are pretty universal (given that it's a Canonical Big Deal Historical Event that the embodiment of evil punched a hole in reality and made magic evil and fucked up for men forever), but like. where is the variety! where is the spice! where are the religious freaks! give me religious freaks!!!

however this is ameliorated by the fantastic variety in cultures/societies/stories, and also the overarching theme of "the world has moved on from what it once was". like, everything with loial (also strong contender for Supporting Character Of All Time) talking about the groves and how different the world is from what he'd read about in the stedding! the entire scene with the green man (which still makes me feel completely fucking insane, just btw)! perrin and egwene at the ruined statue of artur hawkwing! moiraine telling the people of emond's field about manetheren! WHEWWWWWWWWWW

like, it really does give you this sense of history and loss. but also i hope that as the books go on it gets more into, like, "okay, the world has moved on and nothing will ever be as it once was. so what are we going to do with the world we have? how are we going to keep it safe and let it grow?"

sidenote: the tragedy of listening to the audiobooks is that i can't flip back to look at the map or the glossary if i start getting a little lost 😭 help i just want to get everything Right in my head

i also feel like jordan does a fantastic job of like...getting the reader further and further into the more fantastical or impactful elements of the world step by careful step and pacing out how he escalates the characters' importance to the world. does this make any sense.

like, baerlon -> whitebridge -> caemlyn is a steady stepwise escalation in Experiencing A City. and the one-two-three combo of loial explaining ta'veren to rand + rand overhearing a farmer gossip about queen morgase and her family + the repeated references to seeing the false dragon in caemlyn all leads perfectly into rand falling into the garden and the entire chapter with elayne and gawyn and morgase. (side note: this chapter was fucking incredible, good god i am obsessed with royal political bullshit.) OR having all these moments of the characters with moiraine to establish her nature, then providing an immediate contrast with the introduction of elaida as the "other" aes sedai. DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL. it's dominoes, baby

okay i have a few other miscellaneous thoughts

i fucking love how unapologetically trope-y these books are. it is so crunchy. not just vis a vis the hero's journey, but also, like, all the repeated motifs? spooky symbolic dream sequences? excerpts from in-universe writings and poetry? Foreshadowing Via Fortune-Telling? chef's kiss

also, dude, i love that robert jordan really dropped all of the fucking symbols for the next who knows how many books into three paragraphs via min. he knew the girlies would go crazy for this. AND HE WAS RIGHT

same goes for the whole concept of ta'veren, like i know on the surface it's kind of a goofy concept that you are Assigned Main Character At Birth by the wheel/the pattern, but also like. this man knew people on tumblr would be obsessing over characters doomed/haunted by narratives 30 years after these books were published. his third eye was OPEN

in a bizarre way so much of the story elements and pacing feels like a d&d campaign. mat is the rogue who picks up stuff he really shouldn't. perrin is a barbarian that accidentally took a level in druid. lan is the dm's npc blorbo with the intricately detailed tragic backstory that gets dumped on the players all at once (this is affectionate i swear). do you see what i'm saying

hi i love these books a lot already and i can't wait for them to get even more insane. thanks 4 ur time

[wildstreak]

My thoughts on Skybound's Transformers!

Includes Issue #1 SPOILERS

So, I finally got around to reading the new Skybound Transformers comic, and I must say I quite like it so far! (The post is long but there are snapshots!)

The depictions of the relationship between characters had me devouring Issue #1 with wide eyes and gasps; I love that it is extremely evident that there is history between the characters.

That Skyfire and Starscream are the first duo featured speaks VOLUMES. Instantly, there is friction/conflict and tension. From the first moment, there is their trademark tragedy written into their stories. What a treat for SkyStar shippers!! >:)

As for Optimus and Bumblebee, I found the moment when Optimus sees Bumblebee's mangled corpse particularly impactful and absolutely love its portrayal. The parallel that it shares with the beginning was an appropriate way to evoke a readers' sympathy. In the panels around this, Spike's expressions also greatly reflect the sorrow that can be felt in the moment; even a bystander can feel Optimus' grief and understand him, making Optimus all the more human. Not to mention Optimus' portrayal—his optics, his posture, the way he hunches over Bumblebee and holds him; the care and the grief, it's written and drawn all over this. I love its masterful portrayal. On a less profound note, it's hilarious that the first one to die is a fan-favourite 💀 Spiteful!

And then there is Soundwave and Ravage. Soundwave definitely cares for Ravage, and who am I but a sucker for a close relationship between carrier and cassettes.

And the trine was so close to completion! Maybe Starscream is agonising over the loss of an asset, but I think there's something more affectionate to it than that.

That being said, Starscream is such a wicked bastard in this one and I love that for him. It serves as a good reminder to Decepticon sympathisers how much of a cunt he truly is.

On another note, the comic starts off with strong sympathetic human characters. This is something that I greatly appreciate because humans, for so much of the franchise seem so redundant with the exception of a few rare gems (ROTB, for instance) so having a good impression of the humans right off the bat is leaves quite a good impression.

Spike and Carly both have dreams yet struggle to achieve them which gives readers a good starting point to start rooting for them.

The fact that we see them passing the night by stargazing also sets a calm, relaxed and friendly atmosphere for them which helps readers warm up to them better, as coontrasted to IDW with an angsty thief for a character 💀 (I really didn't like her, but I also didn't give her much of a chance to develop as a character.)

I also like how they reacted in the crisis of getting caught in the crossfire between the Cybertronians. They reacted sensibly by first considering escape but being humans, their curiosity overcomes them in an understandable manner. When the violence begins, they stay out of sight, panicking but not overreacting. This makes them infintely more relatable and likeable. And I love that Spike got himself involved by pushing the gun towards Optimus! That was rather sweet of him. (Also, I thought the gun was Megatron for a whole second before my brain caught up to the context and went 'Wait, that can't be right, right?' but there's a lot of potential in all the ways that can go)

Alsoe, I adore the design on Carly's van! <3

In general, I love the art in this.

Especially the unglams.

I had a blast and it's only Issue #1! I can't wait to see how deep a hole I dig for myself in the following issues. Hopefully, I can organise my thoughts in a more coherent manner next time; I simply didn't expect to be this impressed by the Energon Universe.

If you've made it this far, wow, thank you for reading! Please feel free to come talk to me about anything Transformers (your blorbos, your thoughts and takes, anything!) in my asks or message me directly. No spoilers for future issues please!!