#and i wanted to read mysterious skin again to compare things and just to get a full view but exit note did just come out so. i Will read it

[2189114reads]

we disappear was like a tighter more direct and yet equally ambiguous and unmoored mysterious skin. not that mysterious skin’s looseness and nebulous storytelling strategy is like weaker or anything just different. we disappear was a bare essentials story though. so good..

[candy-red-river]

Luther is beauty, style, and grace (an analysis again)

ok ive wanted to talk about this guy for a while after finishing the comics lately and oh my god his deal is the most obvious of all the characters compared to others when you think about it.

Starting off, his most obvious feature is his manners. He is very polite and "reasonable" but often forces it onto others and seems somewhat superficial. Like he's trying to hide something about himself. One of my mutuals earlier called him "repressed which I find very interesting as I never saw him that way before.

But after reading the comic I said to myself, "Yeah he's definitely repressed".

Specifically in the camping arc he has HUGE BEEF with the hitchhiker calling them a narcissist for seemingly being themselves, albeit a bit morbid and tries to poke through his skin like he does with others (whether to sedate them or not) but restrains himself when randal comes around, later attempting to call his doctor about it, implying that he doesn't want or like doing that to begin with.

There was also the scene with the pancakes where he just unhinges his jaw but implies that he doesn't do that often in front of guests for the sake of their comfort.

Other than that, Luther absolutely INSISTS that he's human and the weird "family" dynamic that he's made for the ivory household (which consists mostly of brainwashed people forced to play a pet role and randal who I'm pretty sure isn't even related to luther) and generally tries to put down anything he does not like in a sort of fancy royal manner.

From all this and the speech he made about choosing his own destiny and being so assertive about manners to others I think it's safe to say that luther is an absolute monster, but is very self aware and almost insecure about being non human, which he also enforces on others in order to "fix" them or to make himself seem perfect with the "ideal" family.

I think he's aware of how messed up everything is but is either in denial or trying to tone it down.

Other things to note:

Captain howdie said they had a crush for luther from an ask which I think is funny and unexpected. (Also true)

He has canonically dated women (epic)

The eyes on top of his eyes aren't just eyelids since they have been shown to come out before. He literally has two sets of eyes.

I also think it's funny that nyon and nana have an implied crush on him (I'll get to them later)

He's scared of mice apparently

he has a LOT of pets, none of them are normal animals

He seems to have sympathy of some kind but it's definitely half baked.

(Unrelated note: the current most mysterious characters are Sebastian, Nana, and the hitchiker)

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[o-sachi]

Blue Lock Top 5s because I'm bored

Top 5 I like based on narrative/writing

Top 5 I'd date

Kinda wildly different, idk u judge

All under the cut

Top 5 Based on the Story

1 | Michael Kaiser

Where do I even begin...

For starters, he has a really strong presence in the story and his introduction was hella good.

I have a thing for cocky characters who can walk the talk (we ignore the goals he missed because c'mon, HE IS STILL PART OF THE NEW GEN 11 !!! THAT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF)

But me liking him mostly has to do with his backstory. I resonate with him a lot—not that I experienced the same abusive childhood, but the feeling of wanting to be enough/to be loved really hits hard.

I am also a sucker for great characters who have to shed their skin or the ones who experience a fall from grace only to rise again. It's really inspiring and different in a way. I love to see them get humbled yk?

Also, I like that he had to work hard to be where he is today. The reason why I like him and Lorenzo is because they essentially stand out among the other blue lockers who came from better families/environments.

I just love him. He holds a special place in my heart. He needs to be protected at all times.

I know manipulation is wrong but it's kinda funny how this mf studied psychology for the most whack ass reason possible. Jeez.

2 | Isagi Yoichi

I have to say that I rarely end up liking the MC of most animanga that I read or watch. It's because they're usually so... plain. Like the squarely fall into one archetype and it gets boring. But not Isagi.

I LOVE how he's gentle and kind when off the field, but an absolute menace when he's actually playing football. It's interesting to see.

I like that he's somewhat an underdog. I say somewhat because he didn't start off as someone who knows nothing at all about football. Neither was he hindered by anything serious. Just a plain ol' underdog who happens to go against players that are naturally better than him.

Underdog stories in sports anime are my shit after all.

Redditors say that Isagi's puzzle shit analysis is cringy, but I actually like his analytical nature. It's one of the things I like the most about bllk tbh.

All the blue lockers love him and so do I. Simple as that.

3 | Reo Mikage

It took me a while to really really appreciate Reo.

I just find his character endearing because he truly works hard.

He's from a rich family who could give him anything he wants without him having to lift a finger, yet he tries so hard to prove himself and achieve something solely by himself.

It's just really admirable.

He has his moments, but I think Reo's overall a sweet and genuine person. I felt bad for him when Nagi set him aside.

Of course, Reo initially befriended Nagi for the purpose of playing football together and dominating the sport, BUT he put actual trust into their friendship.

4 | Bachira Meguru

MY OG

I think it's exclusive to sports animanga, but I really like the characters who are lowkey crazy. The moment he fucking kicked Igaguri in the face—I knew.

Super fun to watch.

I like how his backstory is a completely different atmosphere compared to what kind of person he is on the surface. Of course, he probably still has some scars from the past, but that's what I think makes him a good character.

Like Reo, I think he's a genuine person. Sure, he's ready to throw hands anytime, but I can see that he really values certain people in bllk, whether as a friend or someone who pushes him to do better.

GIVE US MORE BACHIRA PLS

5 | Shidou Ryusei

Crazy motherfucker. I DIG THAT.

He's a bit weird, perverted, all over the place—but I like it. A refreshing sight.

Like I know the "crazy" character isn't new, especially to sports anime. But unlike those before him, I think he genuinely enjoys football more so than dominating others.

Sure, he loves to win. But there's a difference between engaging in a sport to make others submit to you and to defeat others fair and square.

Kind of mysterious and I like that. He could climb up the ranks depending on what backstory Kaneshiro san cooks up.

Top 5 That I'd Date

1 | Karasu Tabito

There's something about guys from the countryside that HIT DIFFERENT. Personally, I'm not from a city either, so I guess I'm not that into city boys or the really posh kind of guys.

THE ACCENT

I like guys who are more simple and down to earth, but still have personality. He's so cute and playful, but he's still a simple lil guy.

I like guys who enjoys playful banter w you and would tease u a bit 😗

He's tall, has dark hair, a cocky smirk. NEED I SAY MORE?

We're both scared of water so when we go to the beach or the pool we could just chill together instead.

I find it really endearing about his character that he refuses to tell people about the last time he cried. 'Cuz obviously, a lot of men are probably embarrassed about admitting that which should be changed. I JUST WANT TO GIVE HIM A BIG HUG.

We have the same mole under the eye and our birthdays are 5 days apart. And I'm fucking delusional 😚

I just fw his personality a lot.

He could match my freak.

2 | Barou Shoei

I like mature guys. Periodt.

I love me a domestic guy. He likes cleaning, cooking, taking care of his siblings. Like??? WHAT ELSE COULD YOU ASK FOR?

I feel like I would get scolded a lot... joke's on him I'm into that.

I was kidding btw.

Idk, dude. Responsible men just turn me the fuck on 😓

I admire his work ethic and how seriously he takes his passion.

He's tall, beefy, always looks mad... and I dig that a lot.

What the fuck is that new hairstyle though.

3 | Yukimiya Kenyu

This is extra delusional because I would never get this green of a flag yk?

HE SEEMS SO SWEET AND KIND.

He also seems like the type who would be kind and understanding in the relationship, but would still take the lead.

Idk, tbh, I just chose him because he would be a good partner. Would we make a good pair? Not really.

4 | Noel Noa

I have daddy issues.

That's it.

No, but have you seen the recent art of him in a suit? GOOD LORD.

But actually he is my 4th choice. Don't come for me 😓

5 | I lied about the top 5 thing. There aren't enough characters of age to choose from (I wouldn't date Mihya or Sae. They're hot, I get that. Buttttttt I don't think I can actually handle them. I think I'd be too sensitive about how they treat me sob. And Aiku is a headache.)

[beevean]

Just when I thought the comics couldn’t get any worse, the latest arc is going to have eggman team up with sonic, but here’s the kicker, sonic and eggman are working together to solve a mystery. Sonic is perfectly ok teaming up with the same guy that in the comics (ignoring the games) created a zombie virus, started a war, nearly kill all his friends constantly, and even ditched his puppet daughter. The matter of fact that people tout this comic understands the character are off their rockers.

big oof

I read Random's post, and you know what? Yeah. On one hand, it's absurd that Sonic teams up with Eggman at the drop of a hat - the last time was in #55, not too long ago! And it was for something as simple as exploring Starline's base! Say what you want about Sonic and Eggman teaming up in the games, but at least it was a matter of life and death every time! Where's the Sonic who has long learned that Eggman is full of shit and you can only count on his help when his skin is on the line? And ofc, way to undermine Eggman again, since he's clearly the "lesser evil" compared to Clutch and Mimic. Joy.

On the other, the fact that he'd rather accept Eggman's help than discuss things with Lanolin, who is in a position of authority (she's the referee from what I gathered) is extremely hilarious, and I don't blame him. If this was a well-written story, I'd almost think Lanolin being Mimic's perfect pawn because she's so unlikeable that she alienates everyone is a deliberate plot point, and it would be genius.

[smok3r7]

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

Long Time No See

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: Trying to fill the void in her heart isn't easy, especially when she doesn’t want to. But when the unexpected happens, she can’t help but leap into it.

Word count: 5.8k

—

"So what do you like to do for fun?" Renae forces herself to ask Jack with a forced smile. Across from her is a guy she met on Tinder, and she doesn’t want to be here but Ally forced her to get out there again since the whole…Joel situation, as she called it.

Jack leans back in his seat, resting his right arm on the back of the booth, a small smile playing on his lips, "I love going on spontaneous road trips, exploring new places, trying out different cuisines-"

Renae raises an eyebrow, not expecting such an adventurous answer.

“How about you?"

Renae fidgets with her coffee cup, feeling out of her comfort zone. She glances around nervously, realizing she hasn’t been on a date in years. Ally's voice echoes in her mind, urging her to give Jack a chance. Taking a deep breath, Renae musters a smile and replies, "I enjoy camping, hiking, and reading mystery novels - when I have the chance."

She sips her coffee, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as Jack eats his Caesar salad across from her. “Well, those all sound like cool things, I haven’t been camping much,” he says as he smiles back, clearly trying to keep the conversation moving smoothly. Renae smiles back and continues to tell him about some campsite she’s been to and that she recommends for him to visit.

But a thing she can’t stop herself from doing is comparing him to Joel. She left for his own good, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss him. Jack is nothing like Joel, though also similar in weird, abstract ways. Jack is a couple years younger than Joel, they act very differently.

He divorced his wife of five years about three years ago and he has an eighteen year old son, who just graduated and is going off to college. His hair is a striking shade of strawberry blonde, buzzed cut, giving him a rugged and edgy look. His piercing green eyes are very similar to Renae's, carrying a hint of mischief and wisdom. Despite his mature demeanor, there is a youthful energy that emanates from him, drawing people in with his charismatic presence - what made Renae decide to meet him for lunch.

Jack's unique combination of features sets him apart from most, making him both intriguing and approachable. But Renae finds herself unsure if she's ready to open up again, to let someone new into her life after the intricate experience with Joel.

She must’ve gone silent, because next thing she knows is Jack reaches across the table to hold her hand gently, a reassuring smile on his face. “Sorry,” she apologizes, quickly retracting her hand from his and giving him a small smile to reassure him that she’s okay.

Even though underneath her skin, she’s not.

Renae misses Joel terribly. She longs for the easy banter, the comforting presence she felt with him, even through texts and late-night phone calls. This past year has been a challenge without him by her side. Renae has always prided herself on her independence, but there was something about Joel that made her feel stronger and more hopeful a year ago. She can't quite put her finger on it, but she knows that his absence has left a void in her life that no one else can fill. Even a cool and attractive guy like Jack.

Work hasn’t even felt the same since her and Joel went their own ways. The last year has been really slow for her, mainly because she’s not picking up cases like she should, or she knows she could. Every day at the office feels like a struggle as she navigates through the paperwork, phone calls, and court with a heavy heart. Her distracted mind keeps wandering back to memories of Joel, the sound of his laughter, the touch of his hand, the smell of sweat and cologne.

But despite the emotional turmoil, Renae tries her best to focus on her work, pushing through each day with a mixture of determination and sadness. Finally, she seems to have found a new rhythm, a new purpose in her career, and a newfound strength within herself. She’s not sure what she would do otherwise, her job has been her life for too long to just up and leave.

As Jack takes a sip of his water, he looks at Renae with a curious expression, "Do you like your job?" he asks casually. Renae hesitates for a moment, torn between her true feelings and the desire to maintain a facade. She wants to tell Jack that she loves her job, which she truly does, but her recent struggles have dampened her enthusiasm.

Deep down, she knows that her current state of mind has nothing to do with her job, but she can't bring herself to admit the real reason to Jack. With a forced smile, she replies, "Yeah, I do. It's just been a bit challenging lately. Court has been pretty time consuming, but what isn’t nowadays? " Jack nods understandingly, unaware of the underlying truth that Renae is desperately trying to conceal about Joel.

“How do you like real estate?” Renae quickly returns the question to Jack, who’s more than happy to answer. But as his answer drags on, Renae finds herself bored and honestly unimpressed. She can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment as he rambles on about properties and market trends.

She prefers a man whose hands are calloused from hard work, not smooth from signing contracts. Jack and Joel couldn't be any different. Jack, with his impeccably manicured hands and polished demeanor, seems to be everything Renae doesn’t want in a partner. However, Joel, with his rough hands and rugged appearance, had a raw magnetism that drew her in instantly.

“…Veronica has been trying to steal this property from me for a couple months now, and I just am sick of it…” Jack briefly stops her train of thoughts, she fakes a small head nod like she understands so he can continue.

But as he does, Renae finds herself sitting here on a date, contrasting the two men… And there’s no way Jack can be the one for her.

As Jack continues to talk enthusiastically about his latest deals, Renae realizes that maybe they're just too different. She longs for someone who can fix a leaky faucet or build a bookshelf, not someone who thrives in the world of selling tactics.

She needs someone like Joel.

—

“…I’d try out my sea legs.”

“But you ain’t got no legs, Lieutenant Dan.”

Renae can’t help but mimic the so-familiar dialogue of Forrest Gump as she sits in her room, freshly showered, with Frankie curled into a medium-sized ball in her comforter-covered lap with her phone next to her. Which is open to her and Joel's messages, frequently going between the movie and her screen.

She can’t help herself. Scrolling through their old messages, a wave of nostalgia washes over her, and a faint smile appears on her face. Their meaningful, intimate, and silly conversations make her heart ache with longing and sorrow.

Oh, how Renae misses it.

The easiness of it all, no arguments with Joel. Phone calls that went for hours, silence never settling for more than a few seconds. Every conversation felt like coming home after a long journey, neither running out of things to tell the other. They could talk about everything and nothing at all, their connection deep and effortless.

But then, life happened. The divorce was finalized, and Renae had to let him go, more for his daughter than anything. Now, the memories of those long conversations linger in Renae's mind like a bittersweet melody.

She wonders if Joel thinks about those moments too, if he misses them as much as she does. Almost everyday, she picks up the phone, ready to dial his number, but she doesn’t. She can’t bring herself to do it.

So she re-reads their conversations… All the time.

“You are one of a kind Rae… I never knew a girl like you could be so funny.”

“I’ll take you out on the pontoon so you can lay out, while I float us down the river… You’ll love it.”

“Darlin’… You don’t need to apologize. You’re a busy gal’, I’m not gonna hold you back.”

“Sarah and Ellie decided it was a good idea to prank me or somethin, today… by pushin me off the boat while I was fishin.”

Deep down, she understands that holding on to whatever they had, or what she thought they had, is doing her no good. Especially if she’s going to do nothing about it.

With a heavy heart, Renae sighs and sets her phone aside, realizing that sometimes, love means letting go. As she goes back to her tv, where Forrest Gump plays, a sense of disappointment washes over her, knowing that she simply can’t move on from him like she wants.

Even a year later.

The memories of their late-night conversations and dreams they shared and didn’t, replay consistently in her head, day and night. Their words, filled with hope and passion, linger in the quiet corners of her mind, like whispers of a forgotten melody.

Renae finds herself drifting back to those moments as she calmly pets Frankie and quickly forgets about the movie she put on to distract herself, reliving the laughter and the deep, heartfelt talks that brought them closer together.

Despite the passing of time, the connection they shared remains vivid and unshakeable to Renae, she can’t shake it. It's as if Joel's presence lingers beside her, guiding her through life's twists and turns.

But the thing is, she knows deep down that Joel feels the same way, that their love was too strong to fade away.

She wants to reach out, but fear holds her back, the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable. She wants nothing more than to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that has grown between them. Yet doubt clouds her mind, whispering cruel lies of inadequacy and unworthiness.

In the quiet moments of the night, or when she’s distracted, she will replay their last conversation, searching for clues, for signs that he still cared. And she remembers him trying his damn best to keep his composure from crumbling in front of her, so maybe there is some hope.

Renae finds herself at a crossroads, yet again. Torn between the yearning for love of her heart and the fear in her soul. Can she gather the courage to reach out to Joel, even for a simple conversation, or can she let him slip away, forever lost in the shadows of what could have been?

—

Last week, Renae was asked by Ally and her husband Daniel if she wanted to join them in their trip to Palo Duro Canyon State Park, just outside Amarillo, Texas, the following week. Feeling adventurous and needing a change in her life, even if it’s just a small trip, she decides to go.

She calls off of work for two days, Monday and Tuesday, and starts packing things up for her three day vacation. She figures she’ll drive there and meet them, only because they both are staying longer than three days and Renae can’t get that much time off.

This morning, she wakes up ready and high with energy, filled with a sense of adventure that pulses through her veins, barely needing her coffee to get her going, something she usually needs everyday. The thought of exploring the breathtaking canyons and discovering the diverse trails and plants ahead fills her with exhilaration. She has missed this feeling, and as she sets out on her way, she promises to herself to never go this long without being adventurous again.

The solo two hour road trip is easy enough. Traffic isn’t terrible for a Sunday afternoon and her music is loud through her speakers and open windows. Renae is about as carefree as she can be at the moment.

With each passing mile she can feel herself getting closer and closer to nature's wonderland, where the beauty of the world envelopes her in a sense of freedom and joy. The sun kisses her arm that hangs out her driver side window, the wind whispers secrets in her ear, and the earth welcomes her with open arms as she drives down this windy road.

Next thing she sees is this picturesque cabin that Ally and Daniel have rented for the week, and she feels like she is entering a world of magic. Goosebumps form on her arms, even with the warm sun shining on her. Parking her car next to Daniel’s pickup truck, she steps out and the scent of heat and wildflowers fill her senses immediately.

Ally and Daniel come out to the porch, beaming with excitement to show Renae around their temporary haven. The cabin is a cozy retreat in the desert but scattered with large trees, it’s a charming rustic feel that instantly makes Renae feel at home.

“How was the drive here?" Ally asks, helping Renae unload things from her car. Renae takes a deep breath and leans against the vehicle smiling, grateful for her friend's thoughtfulness.

"Not bad, any longer though I woulda’ been exhausted!" She admits, wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead. The two friends laugh.

“I don’t blame ya,” Daniel laughs with them, carrying the cooler from her trunk.

"Well, you made it at a good time!" Ally tells Renae as they walk through the decent sized cabin, dropping her bags in front of the couch in the cozy living room. “Daniel just got done grilling chicken tacos for dinner- my personal favorite of his.”

Mhmmm, Renae smells the sweet aroma of grilled chicken tacos fills the air coming from the open back door, making her mouth water.

“God, I’m starvin’ too!”

The two girls leave the room and find Daniel in the backyard, with a big grin on his face, proudly presenting the sizzling tacos to his friends on a big plate right off the grill.

The warm summer evening feels perfect, the suns starting to set so the heat isn’t too brutal, she’s with good friends and good food, at an even better location for the next couple days.

As they enjoy the delicious meal, Ally asks Renae how her date with Jack went last week. Renae's honest response catches Ally off guard as she admits that she hated it. She elaborates on how Jack talked non-stop about himself and his stupid real estate deals, and showed little to no interest in really getting to know her - just the basic questions that everyone asks.

“All he talked about was his damn business, but in a cocky ass way, ya’ know?” Renae gets annoyed from simply talking about it again, “Oh- and how Veronica keeps stealing his properties or somethin’. Like, if you’re into your coworker, just tell me!”

Ally listens intently, offering sympathy and understanding, but also laughing with Renae about it all. “Jesus, girl,” she says, “Sounds like you got out at the right time with that one.”

Renae laughs as she swallows a bite of the garlicky chicken, she’s relieved to finally share her true feelings about the disastrous date and not have to worry about Ally’s reaction. “I am stayin’ away from the apps forever now… Fuck those things!”

“I don’t blame you!” Ally agrees, raising her hand for a high five from Renae, who smacks her hand enthusiastically.

Between laughs, a comfortable silence settles over the tables, everyone savoring their food, the delicious chicken with lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese all wrapped in a corn tortilla. Renae can’t remember the last time she ate something this good.

After a few minutes, Daniel asks, “Have you heard from Joel at all?”

Renae about chokes on her food, not expecting to hear that name at all this vacation. She watches Ally instantly scold him for asking about Joel, knowing the painful history behind it. Renae quickly composes herself, hiding the rush of emotions flooding back at the mention of Joel.

She forces a smile and casually replies, "No. I haven't and I’m not sure if I wanna,” she confesses, swallowing some beer that Ally had grabbed, “It’s been just over a year, so… Why now, you know?”

Daniel senses the tension in her voice and swiftly changes the subject, but Renae's mind drifts back to memories she had buried for this trip, wondering if fate had brought up Joel's name for a reason.

It’s hard for her to shake the feeling that Joel's sudden reappearance is more than mere coincidence. Is this a chance to rewrite their story, or is it a reminder of the past she has worked so hard to forget?

—

“You comin’, slow pokes?” Renae laughs as she rests by a large clay canyon, Ally and Daniel a few yards behind her. “Yeah, yeah, shut up!” Ally hollers back with a smile, Daniel laughing behind her.

They set out early this morning, leaving the cabin around eight, eager to explore the rugged beauty of the canyons and the desert. After hiking for a few hours along the winding trails, Renae marvels at the towering rock formations and vibrant wildflowers that scatter the landscape.

Renae's steps are rhythmic, the sun warming her skin and the breeze refreshing her spirit. Her thoughts drift between the beauty of the surroundings and the turmoil within her heart. Thanks to Daniel at dinner last night, the thought of Joel keeps creeping in more and more. This hike was supposed to be her escape from it all, which it still is, but not as much as she would like, a temporary reprieve from the chaos of her life - which is exactly what she wanted when she decided to come.

As she climbs higher, leaving Ally and Daniel to catch up with her, she leaves her worries behind and feels a sense of freedom wash over her. However, no matter how hard she tries, she can’t help but glance at her phone occasionally, hoping for a message from Joel, even though this trip isn’t supposed to be about him.

Her thoughts drift to him, now navigating the uncharted waters of single-dad life. She wonders how he's holding up, what struggles and triumphs he faces daily. If he’s found someone knew for him and his daughter, someone who’s able to be there for him. Her mind wanders to Sarah, hoping she's finding joy in her endeavors. She can't help herself from wondering if Annie is finally complying with the court order or if she's still dancing on the edge of defiance.

The canyon echoes with the mysteries of their lives, reminding Renae of the fragile threads that connect them all.

She contemplates sending him a gorgeous picture of the desert that she got earlier this morning, but she stops herself. She thought that would be just a little weird, no contact for a year but then a random photo? It just doesn’t make sense, at least in Renae’s mind.

But even with all that playing in her head, she’s content to be alone in nature, finding solace in the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other.

Finally reaching the highest point of their hike, Renae feels her heart race, her legs burning from the steep climb. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then turns around to face the canyon spread out before her. The sun at its highest point, casting a golden light over the jagged cliffs and deep ravines.

Renae's breath catches in her throat at the beauty of it all. She knows the other two will be joining her soon, but for now, she has this moment all to herself. She closes her eyes and lets the cool breeze wash over her, feeling a sense of peace and accomplishment wash over her. This is a moment she will never forget and always cherish.

“God damn Russo,” Daniel huffs behind her, “I thought you said you haven’t done this in awhile.”

Renae laughs, her ponytail swinging as she turns her head. “Well, it’s like ridin’ a bike, you never really forget,” she replies, teasing him, causing him and Ally to chuckle. But she’s honestly just as surprised as he is, she didn’t think this was going to be as easy as it is.

The sun beats down on them, casting dappled shadows from their bodies at the top of the canyon. Ally and Daniel sit down next to Renae, who’s still standing, catching their breath and taking in the beauty around them.

Renae smiles at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Worth it, right?” she asks. Ally nods in response after downing some water, her heart full, grateful for this adventure with her husband and best friend.

“Yeah,” she whispers, “I think so too.”

—

“Bianca, don’t go too far please!” Renae yells to her niece, who yells back, I won’t, as she races around the playground, her laughter mixed with dozens of other kids fill the air, echoing Renae's heart with joy. Gia, with her baby Aliya, admires Bianca's zest for life and the way that Bianca just adores her little sister, much like how Renae and Gia used to be. The bond between the two sisters watching the young ones play was unbreakable, rooted in shared memories and unspoken understanding.

The afternoon sun casts a warm glow on the playground, bringing a sense of peace and contentment. Renae can’t help but smile as she sees Bianca making new friends, even if it is just for the weekend they’re here, her spirit contagious to those around her. It’s moments like this that remind Renae of the beauty of family and the magic of childhood.

“How are you doin’ Rae? With the Joel situation,” Gia asks, breaking the calm silence between them as she rests Aliyah on her thigh, feeding her small bites of cut up fruits.

“You want the truth?” Renae defeatedly asks her, and Gia nods her head.

“I thought I could move on. I mean, just a couple months ago I went hikin’ with Ally and I found myself thinkin’ of him the whole three days I was there.” She sighs, “I miss him so much. I don’t know why I left, we could’ve figured it out,” Renae's heart feels heavy as she opens up to her sister about Joel, constantly playing with her soft curls and trying to hide her anxiety.

Holding Aliyah on her lap, Gia listens attentively as Renae speaks. The weight of regret and longing is evident in Renae's voice as she admits how much this whole thing has messed with her. Gia's eyes fill with understanding as she tries to comfort her sister, not really knowing the pain she’s going through, but trying her best to understand.

“How long has it been?” Gia asks, still feeding Aliyah, making sure she doesn’t choke.

“It'll be a year and six months, next week…” Renae reluctantly tells her sister, “It’s ridiculous, I know-“

“No, it’s really not, Rae… You’re healing in your own way, even if that means still being in the same spot you were in a year ago. Everyone deals with shit differently.” Renae’s head perks up from staring at the woodchips beneath her heels, you really think so? Gia warmly smiles, yes, I do, causing Renae to smile back with a small tear in her eyes.

Suddenly Aliyah burps loudly, loud enough to think that this burp came from a man - not a twenty month old toddler. “S’cuse me,” she shyly giggles, causing Renae and Gia to burst out laughing, breaking the sadness that was swallowing them both.

After the laughter between them dies down a bit, Gia reaches out and places a comforting hand on her sister's knee. "It's never too late to make things right, Rae. Maybe it's time to reach out to Joel and see if you can work things out," she suggests gently, “And if it doesn’t work out…then you gotta let him go, for good.”

Renae looks into Gia’s eyes, a glimmer of hope shines as she contemplates her next move, “Maybe you’re right…” Renae admits, looking away from her sister to look for Bianca and when she finds her, she can’t believe her eyes.

Her heart races as she sees Sarah sitting with Bianca on the swing set. That can’t be- no fuckin way. She has never met Sarah in person, only seen pictures Joel had shown her. But the resemblance is uncanny. Could it be a doppelgänger? However, before she can process what’s happening, she sees him.

Joel.

Memories flood back, the very same ones she was just venting about to Gia - the laughter, the tears, the love that once bloomed between them. Renae was not prepared for this unexpected encounter, she was planning on reaching out to him in a couple days.

Then just like that, Joel looks up from the swings and spots Renae, and it’s almost like he’s seen a ghost, his face pale, his jaw nearly hitting the ground. Renae, flustered, tries her best to smile but she only gives a small wave instead, not moving from the bench. In that moment, time stands still as Renae grapples with her emotions, torn between the past and the present. The story of their unfinished love about to unfold once again.

Joel smiles back and bends down to tell Sarah something before he starts walking towards Renae, his heart pounding in his chest.

“That’s Joel?” Gia quietly asks Renae as she gives Aliyah some toys to play with on her blanket on the ground, all Renae can do is subtly nod her head. “Holy shit… I can see why you’re struggling’ so much,” Gia chuckles to herself, stopping herself from drooling at the sight of the handsome man coming in their direction.

Renae’s heart races as Joel gets closer, unsure of what to expect, what to say, or what he’s even going to say. As he reaches her, Joel nervously clears his throat and says, "Hey Renae, I've-uh been meanin’ to talk to you… Do you, uh- do you wanna grab some dinner later?” Renae can’t believe what she just heard, Gia smirking next to her.

She softly smiles, a wide grin spread across her face, unable to contain her excitement. "Pick me up at seven?" she asks, feeling a rush of emotions at the thought of reuniting with Joel after a year and a half.

Joel is just as thrilled as Renae. The spark between them has never dimmed, despite the passing time and distance. “See you at seven, Rae,” he smirks along with a subtle wink and a higher level of confidence than when he walked up.

Before Renae can say bye, or anything, she sees Bianca right behind Joel. "Aunt Renae, I'm hungry," she exclaims, squeezing herself between Renae and Joel. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she continues, "Sarah and Ellie said there's a cool ice cream spot down the street... Can I go with them?" Joel raises an eyebrow at the sudden request, Sarah and Ellie peeking out from behind Bianca, their expressions a mix of excitement and playfulness.

Almost like they know exactly what they’re doing.

Suddenly Gia bursts out laughing, her contagious giggles filling the air. Joel and Renae can’t resist joining in, their laughter blending together in harmony. Renae feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, the tension of the moment dissolving into laughter.

As Gia wipes away the tears, she looks at Joel and sees pure love and affection in his eyes as he stares at Renae. As a baby sister, she couldn’t be happier for Renae, it’s what she needs and deserves. It’s been too long since she’s had a win for herself.

“What’s so funny?” Bianca asks, highly confused and before Renae or Joel can answer, Sarah and Ellie whisper in her ear. And then it seems like it clicks, like she all of a sudden knew all the history between her aunt and her new friend's dad.

—

Renae gets lost in Joel’s chocolate eyes again, the warm eyes she fell for a year ago. She never thought she’d be able to look at him again, let alone go out to dinner with him. And not as her client, but a possible significant other.

Sitting across from each other in the cozy restaurant, the air between them crackling with unspoken words, Renae feels a rush of emotions she hasn’t experienced in a long time. Their conversation flows effortlessly, filled with laughter and meaningful words.

Renae can’t hold back the question that’s been on her mind since they sat down, she gazes into Joel's chocolate orbs, the flickering candle casting a warm glow on their faces. She’s been debating whether or not to ask it, but for her own peace of mind, she has too.

"Has this past year been as hard for you as it has been for me?"

Joel pauses his chewing, his expression softening as he reaches out to take Renae's hand that rests on the white tablecloth table. She sees him take a deep breath through his nose and out his mouth, like he’s thinking hard on the question.

"It’s been one of the hardest in my life," he confesses with glossy eyes, “N’ I think that says a lot.”

Renae feels her heart swell with love and gratitude as she looks into Joel's eyes across the table. Her stomach flips, her lips tighten into a small smile, and her eyes full of love. The year apart seems like a distant memory now, as their connection feels stronger than ever.

With a gentle smile, she tightens her grip on his hand, feeling the warmth and familiarity that it brings. Joel returns her gaze with equal affection, silently conveying the depth of his true feelings for her. In this very moment, Renae knows that despite the pain they faced, their love has only deepened and grown over time.

“More wine?” The waitress asks out of nowhere, causing Renae to jump back in her seat, letting go of Joel’s hand. Please, she accepts with a head nod. Red wine fills both of their glasses, before she walks away leaving Joel and Renae to continue their conversation. The dimly lit restaurant is a perfect setting for Joel and Renae to enjoy their night together, nothing too busy and nothing too empty.

With each sip, Renae’s words flow effortlessly, forging a connection that transcends the noisy chatter around them. “I tried dating a few times,” she confesses to him as she cuts into her steak.

Joel's eyes sparkle with interest at her words, “N’ how did that go?” He can’t help but smirk, the wine affecting him more than he thought.

Renae takes a bite of steak, savoring the flavor for a moment before giving Joel a face that is full of sarcasm and humor. After she swallows she tells him,“Fucking awful!” Causing Joel to burst into laughter. Renae can’t help but laugh along with him, the two of them sharing a moment of genuine joy.

Simple moments of connection like these are what made their friendship so special, where they could be themselves and exchange playful jabs without missing a beat. It’s what has Renae hooked on him, yearning for more and more each time.

Joel wipes away a small tear, still chuckling, as Renae rolls her eyes with a smile, chewing her steak while Joel takes a sip of wine. “How’s single dad life treatin’ you?” she asks, her tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. Joel looks at her with a mix of amusement and contentment, grateful for the easy camaraderie they've always shared.

"It's a wild ride, that's for sure," he replies, a hint of exhaustion underlying his words. Renae nods understandingly, “Sarah loves havin’ just me in the home. She told me that all Annie does is talk shit ‘bout me when she’s there, but Sarah knows she’s talkin’ out her ass.”

Renae stops chewing, almost choking as she swallows the food at the sound of his words spill from him. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” Even though she knows Joel absolutely loves his daughter and did what he had to do to save her, Annie has no right to speak like that to her own daughter.

Joel lets out a soft sigh, gazing into the distance for a moment before replying, “Yep. I hate that Sarah’s in this position, but she’s twelve - almost thirteen, so she understands her mom and me.” Joel admits, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m kinda hopin’ Annie just stops showin’ up to pickups. It would be so much easier…for everyone.”

Renae senses the weight of his words, enough for her to almost feel like she knows exactly what he’s going through. His nonchalant shrug couldn't conceal the underlying turmoil caused by Annie's presence. She sees the conflict in his eyes, torn between compassion and self-preservation.

Despite his resolve, the lingering pain of past memories still haunts him and Renae can sense that. She silently vows to support him through this emotional battle, knowing that healing take’s time, but believing that one day, Joel will find peace when it comes to Annie.

“Well,” Renae gently starts, catching Joel’s attention immediately, “There is somethin’ that can be done, through the court, if you wanna do it. I’m not gonna push you because the court takes a lot out of you.”

“No. I can’t- Sarah can’t go through that.” Joel stops Renae from going more into it, “I’ve done my research ’bout the whole thing, but I just can’t put Sarah into that.”

Renae swiftly shakes her head, completely understanding Joel's wants and needs. She knows that he doesn't want his young daughter to go through the emotional turmoil of a custody battle in court. One that has already happened as Sarah’s almost thirteen, and at some point she can’t just tell her mom that she doesn’t want to be around her anymore.

So Renae gently places a comforting hand on Joel's hand across from her once again, offering her support and reassurance in this difficult time.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. So tell me, what else is new with you?

[dragonmuse]

This proves, once again, that I cannot do anything without a firm deadline (or two). A bout of covid in summer and a couple of long road trips and train rides meant I got through many more audio books than I usually would. So I'll limit myself to my favourites here and give a short teaser each instead. Just because I really want to. Hope that's alright.

To Night Owl from Dogfish by Holly Goldberg Sloan and Meg Wolitzer. Avery and Bett are both 12 years old and live with single gay dads. That's excactly everything they have in common. Otherwise they couldn't be more different. Only now their dads have decided to fall in love and to send the girls to the same summer camp so they can get to know each others as "new sisters". This cannot stand! A reverse Parent Trap, if you will. Utterly hilarious and very heartfelt. Also the most realistic 12yo I've come across in fiction ever, I think.

The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter by Theodora Goss (Part 1 of the Athena Club series). When Mary Jekyll's Mother dies, Mary is left with no family, a lot of debt and a household staff she'll have to let go. When she comes into possession of a bank statement in the name of "Hyde" she is reminded of the cruel Mr Hyde who used to work for her late father and the high reward set for his apprehension. So, as one does when faced with mystery in Victorian London, she enlists the help of one Mr Holmes and the good Doctor Watson. You know how in gothic literature women are usually sidelined to wives, daughters, victims or monsters? Well, this is their story. And by "their" I actually mean "all of them"'s story. Readers of "Dracula Daily" will also encounter familiar names, especially in the second book. Brilliant, brilliant series!

The Fetch Philips series by Luke Arnold (of Black Sails fame), starting with The Last Smile of Sunder City. My current obsession. Detective noir novel set in an urban fantasy setting with a twist. Very cool world building and character development.

Identitti by Mithu Sanyal (translated from German by Altal Price) Nivedita's life is turned upside down when superstar postcolonial and race studies South-Asian professor Saraswati - her supervisor, mentor, idol and crush - is discovered to be actually… white. One of the most brilliant books I'v ever read, I think. A very, very darkly funny take on identity, race, academia and finding a place in the world. It makes you constantly go "Come on, the case is crystal clear now!", only to make you go "Huh. Or not." two pages later. You will also learn A LOT.

Now.. saving the best for last. Stories Beneath our Skin by Veronica Sloane. I will not give a summary here, because that simply feels too weird. But I loved it so damn much! This was my comfort while I was in bed with covid for over week. The found family dynamic reminded me quite a bit of Becky Chambers' books, and I mean that as the highest praise. I listened to it before Smut Nights became a thing so I was a bit suprised by the steamier bits, but that is in no way a complain ;) Can recommend it highly to anyone following you here!

Thank you for this reading program! It was a lot of fun! And thank you, just, for everything I guess!

omg omg you read my novel? I am torn between joy and wanting to hide under the bed. Just as a note to anyone who reads it now, please know I don't think it's cool for white guys to have dreads. It was really ridiculous that I wasn't aware of that in 2013.

I actually HAD to write the smut bits back then because the press (now defunct, hence it being self-published at this point and quite messy) required a certain steam level for novels.

AND MY MOTHER READ IT. She called me her 'little pornographer'. Truly a dark day.

But uh, being compared to Becky Chambers makes me want to ugly sob because I love all of her books very deeply, thank you.

And I love all of your reviews, my TBR list is now longer!

ANYWAY, please excuse me experiencing all my emotions at once, on to

YOUR POEM:

I wish I were a bonsai tree

so carefully tended

to be coaxed and trimmed

taking on a perfect shape

Would that I could give such peace

just by growing my tiny leaves

and reaching for the light

To be loved like that

for myself alone and the things

we make together

[appleofthemoon]

yuyu is my nickname! the only thing...my name's too short to have a nickname in the first place lmao. but it's really cute and i like it. i had no idea that yunho was called that! i'm not into ateez that much but they're all so excellent :D

wishing you luck for both of them!! and also hoping you can relax for a good period of time and that stuff doesn't come too quickly so that you can have time for yourself.

always supporting you, apple! <3

honestly i just tag my usual ones and if it doesn't show up, i really don't want to care about it anymore. it'll show up in the tags in at least a day, there's no point in reposting because it'll just happen again and i'll get annoyed lmao. usually it's not just one tag not working for me, it's every single one...so yeah...i just learned not to care about that anymore.

noooo! maybe because your format of blurbs are different than what people are used to. i mean, when i first started reading them, i really liked them also because it was a different form of writing yanderes and leaving lots of room for imagination. maybe it's just not a style suited for other people, but please don't say you're not amazing because you are, and don't compare yourself because you're amazing and i know you are and don't deny it please!

i'm glad you enjoy what you write though, that's something that's always good to have. i love writing too, and i love yours. ooooo, enha in your country?? very cool! (also, yes, i did just uno reverse you, mwahahahahaha.)

i always change the first sentence at least twice, and the ending sentence at least once when i write fics lol. i always change the whole story around them if it doesn't make sense or i come up with a mysterious one-liner that makes you think.

well your name is already cute as it is so a nickname isn't really needed... unless you want one ofc !!

i already have to juggle my studies with making sure my brother's getting through okay in school so i'm carrying bags under my eyes and they're sadly not designer branded <///3

...something caught in my eye...it got caught again...and again...

tumblr is cool and all but the tags. i do wonder, how often does the staff gets emails relating to that issue— i used to get disheartened when i saw a lack of notes on my posts then i go 'oh right.. tags.'

honestly i think i love writing the blurbs the most because a. they come easier to me and b. the occasional comment where a reader (mostly you <33) picks up where i left the story makes my heart go dududu ~

right? i wanted to go because it's a fanmeet but then being the responsible person i sometimes am, i chose not to because then i'll have to buy beauty products that i probably won't even use because i don't know if my skin will react well to them. also because i know my inability to talk to people will act up the moment i come face to face with mr. park jongseong.

and you do a vv good job when it comes to making us readers think. because i can, here's only w/ jake, dreamy w/ hyunjin and good w/ soobin !!

[girlbossminerva]

Yukino Aguria -> A Beauty Who Deserves (Minerva) and Better.

I've never had too many problems with Yukino because Yukino is kind of there to be the "Lucy" of Sabertooth which becomes a Fairy Tail equivalent, Yukino is seen as mysterious in her debut, carrying a kind resting bitch face and watching Lucy when she fights, may sound like I'm being biased but I'm being honest, the only fights Yukino has ever really watched was Lucy's fight against Flare and when Orga and Rufus were watching, Orga being a cunt and yawning at Lucy, and Rufus merely watching, The camera cuts to Yukino like sense of foreshadowing, like she's the only one that's interested.

Yukino's downfall was low and was used just to get rid of her to welcome Minerva (Future Wife <3) to the mix and welcome her in, Yukino was decent in her fight with Kagura and I'm glad to see more zodiacs (Libra being the one I care for the most, and the Ophiuchus introduction was amazing, stan for clear skin) Honestly I believe that Yukino would become a Mermaid Heel member or Kagura would just drop, seeing as this "own her life" thing is irrelevant after the events of the Dragon Fiasco.

Yukino getting kicked out of the guild is a pain in the ass to watch, and the humiliation she faced is ridiculous, "Took all my respect and shattered it to pieces," and after the events, she went back.

Natsu an (arsonist) complete stranger took up for her, no one, NOT EVEN ANYONE THAT WERE POSSIBLY AGAINST JIEMMA'S IDEALS went to look for her and ask if she was okay, like I get it, Sabertooth is strict and what not BUT LIKE??? I get what was going, but I would not return after that, Like I know Jiemma is gone but is it really worth it? We have Mermaid Heel a guild full of beautiful women- I mean strong women, kind and cool, but to be plot relevant we must go back to Sabertooth because others are only relevant if it's a episode that barely contributes to plot.

Yukino doesn't have many good guildmates atleast ones who are plot relevant or more mentioned, Sting called her the weakest link, Lector said something about having to keep up their image as the strongest guild (I really hate Lector if my energy before didn't say much before.) Rogue being the one who says she was their guildmate and Frosch being worried of being kicked out for their lack of strength which Rogue kindly reassures that it won't happen.

And so I say my few hashtags.

#JusticeAndPlotRelevanceForYukino

#MinYu/YukiNerva is canon bcs I said so.

#YukinoinMermaidHeelorFairyTailPLS

#StanRogueandFroschforgivingadamnabouther

WAIT HOW IS SHE SORANOS SISTER-

Yukino is ST's Lucy in a way, at least at the beginning, but not quite, and actually i think she appears to be more serious and has a sad quality to her that is more visible to the general eye, also considering the deal for her life she made with Kagura, she must be someone with a firmly set honor code or something similar. And since we rarely meet any celestial key users, that must contribute to her interest in Lucy in terms of wanting to compare how different both of their magic skills are.

I think her role is to serve as the perfect starting point to see the true sabertooth bc what we know from the guild up to before she's shunned is that they are obsessed with being the best, antagonistic, arrogant and don't have the "we are family" dynamic that FT has, then Yukino getting kicked out the way she is kind of uncovers the shittier side of sabertooth and allows us to hate it more since we would obviously compare it to FT.

I don't quite blame the members of sabertooth for not stepping in because again Jiemma is a master that they probably have to constantly handle carefully and obediently to avoid setting him off. No matter how strong any of them are, he is the master and he is (at least perceived as) stronger, this would of course discourage anyone team to stand up for yukino and i'm sure he knows that, which is why he has cultivated this type of toxic guild environment.

(Kind of a sidenote: Don't know if you've read any yukinerva thing i've written but this is something i've tried to mention/touch upon sometimes, how Minerva, if we theorize that she had at least a friendly relationship with Yukino, perhaps could have wanted to defend her but would never had been able to go against her father's will even for her.)

Despite all this, of course their fear of Jiemma doesn't mean they shouldn't have apologized a thousand times over to yukino and that she should have forgiven them this fucking easily. Although I do think it could be seen as a decision on her part that goes along with her character; to me Yukino is someone who has a strong sense of loyalty and can turn out to be unfairly forgiving at times, particularly to people she has known for longer, and she had a friendly relationship with characters like the ones participating in the gmg so it makes sense she was more lenient to them. Nonetheless, if that is the case of her character, having her being unable to truly forgive them to the point of having to leave the guild, even if temporarily, would've been a more meaningful character choice, a way of showing she can choose to heal from sabertooth's mistreatment away from the guild.

The revelation that she's Angel's sister, even if it comes out of nowhere and is another instance of "this character is actually related to this other character", i think it works for the deepening(? of Yukino's character. It is mentioned at some point, i don't remember when, that Yukino was a clumsy child and Angel was the big sister that stood up for her. This all to me explains why Yukino would want to end up in a guild known to be the strongest and to be so set in sticking to her rules, why she would move on to be a knight once her "mage career" ends in a way. And also why, after Jiemma is gone, she would be ready to forgive them, even if that is not a healthy decision imo but every person in this series has traumas and issues, they don't need to make healthy life decisions all the time.

Now you mentioned something i had forgotten about which is Kagura "owning" Yukino's life (which yeah was ignored so damn quickly) and you made me consider something: imagine a canon divergence, if you will, where yukino has been humiliated and kicked out, but instead of being natsu who goes to defend her, is kagura, who has a similarly strong honor/moral code to her. she offers her help and perhaps a place to stay in that guild of hers full of beautiful, strong and amazing women. And let's say either yukino does go on to become a knight temporarily or simply wanders aimlessly for a while, in a bit of a life crisis, but after jiemma is taken down and sting becomes master, perhaps someone asks yukino to come back and she is very willing to accept as we have established, because we are parting from the idea that she is unfortunately loyal, despite it all, and with jiemma gone she wants to give it another shot even if she still hasn't emotionally healed from what happened.

and in this scenario it is kagura who takes a look at that situation and recognizes yukino has not fully coped/dealt internally with it and to simply rush back into the guild would not be the right decision, but she understands why yukino is rushing to go back and it is yukino's life... the life she just happened to win in a bet, so she plays the bad guy, in her own self-rightousness, telling yukino not to go back to sabertooth and stay in mermaid heel as an official member. yukino would not break their deal, and truth be told i don't think she would be all that upset, so she accepts. she stays in mermaid heel, planning it not to be forever, to either leave and perhaps return to sabertooth another time, but being away does serve the purpose of letting her come to terms with the fact that she deserves so much better for the humiliation (and possibly also the abuse she must have suffered, i am convinced that everyone was abused in one way or another at least once by Jiemma, you cannot change my mind) and she is under no obligation, of loyalty or any other way, to return to sabertooth if she cannot fully forgive them.

so if she returns to sabertooth under these circumstances it 'd be with at least a little evolution to her character, and if she stays in mermaid heel it would mean a completely different development, either way i think it would've been more meaningful than having her forgive them immediately. In conclusion yes #JusticeAndPlotRelevanceForYukino

[moonlit-jeno]

red door, yellow door (m.)

pairing: mark lee x fem reader x jung jaehyun

genre/warnings: explicit sexual content | demon au | slight dubcon??? the mans a lust demon idk | Very mild horror themes | minor mlm | don’t attempt this game pls !!!

words: 8.1k

a/n: this is a repost from my old bts blog! pls don’t ask abt it bc i no longer actively follow bts :)

One of these days, you’re going to kill your coworkers.

You love them, you really do, but sometimes they can just be so dumb. It was Donghyuck and Renjun who came up with the idea to play this stupid game, one that is probably only played by naive 12 year old girls during slumber parties.

Normally you’d just brush it off, but Renjun had called you a wimp, so naturally you had to do it. Which is how you’ve ended up on your back with your best friend massaging circles into your forehead.

“Red door, yellow door, any other color door,” is being chanted around the room. You fight the urge to move your neck to a more comfortable position on Mark’s lap. Your hand twitches above your head, where your arms are raised. “This is stupid,” You whisper, and Mark laughs, scolding you lightly.

After a while, the mindless chanting lulls you to sleep, and you feel yourself drift off.

“What do you see?”

Two doors appear in front of you, one red and one yellow. They both look kind of old, paint chipping and peeling off.

“Anything else?”

A black door appears next to the yellow one and you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to go in. This one is shinier, considerable newer and more inviting compared to the other two

“Go in.”

You open the door and walk through, a sense of relief flooding through your senses as you give in to the pull. The room that you find yourself in seems never ending, the only thing in it a large bed.

“Do you see anyone?”

A man appears, sitting on the bed. The suit he’s wearing is unfitting for the plain surroundings- in fact, he’s unfitting for the surroundings in general. His teeth are blinding white when he smiles, not a hair out of place on his entire head. He’s attractive, all golden skin and beautiful features. Almost too beautiful. A shiver crawls up your spine, a tinge of discomfort bleeding into your senses. He smiles, dimples popping out, and you push the discomfort to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out distant to your own ears, echoing around you.

“Call me Jaehyun. Why don’t you come here, little bird? We can get properly acquainted.” The voice sounds haunting, like a distorted video. You wouldn’t believe that he’s speaking if his lips didn’t move in sync. Despite the unnatural voice sounding warning bells in your brain, you find yourself moving forward automatically and settling down on his lap when he pats his thigh for emphasis.

“And what’s your name, little bird?” He trails a hand up and down your thigh and you shiver, leaning back against him. He chuckles when you tell him your name, a pleased smile lighting up his features.

“Well, little bird, seems that we’re going to have some fun together.”

Your name is being echoed all around you, and you wake with a jolt, eyes flying open to see Mark staring at you.

“Are you okay?” The rest of your group is also gathered around you, standing in a half circle.

“Yeah, just fell asleep for a bit. Why?” You push yourself onto your elbows, sitting up so that you can lean against Mark.

Donghyuck plops down on the floor, sitting so that he’s facing you. “You were talking like you were having a conversation with someone. Who was it?”

You shrug, trying not to dull his excitement. “I don’t know, just some guy.”

“Was he wearing a suit?” Renjun asks, standing behind Hyuck. He grimaces when you nod. “Y/n, we literally told you not to talk to anyone in a suit. We told you not to talk to anyone. It’s in the rules.”

You roll your eyes, knowing how serious he gets when it comes to stuff like this. “Relax, it’s fine. He seemed nice, and it’s not like it was anything real.”

Renjun still doesn’t look convinced, but Mark interrupts his paranoia by doing what he’s best- or worst, depending on who you ask- at, cracking jokes.

“Hey, was he eating deviled eggs?” He laughs at his own joke, and everyone else groans. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. His place was probably such a hellhole.” The bad mood dissolves into jokes and loud laughter for the rest of the night.

You leave the party- or gathering as Donghyuck had called it because it sounded more mysterious- when it starts storming. The rain drenches you and pretty much everyone else that’s sitting on the porch, leaving you scrambling for shelter. Luckily, Mark offers you a ride.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Mark hollars out the window of his truck, his words getting lost in the night as he speeds off. His truck hits a pothole and you can imagine him swearing as his head hits the roof. Giggling to yourself, you unlock your apartment and slip inside. It’s close to 2 in the morning, so you decide that if you’re already not going to get that much sleep, why not binge Shameless?

You only get through two episodes before your eyelids feel heavy, and you have to fight to keep them open. On screen, there’s a bar fight that you try to take interest in, but sleep quickly pulls you under.

“Welcome back, little bird.” The voice is all around you, but no matter how much you turn and search, no one’s to be found.

“Turn around, little bird, I am here.” Spinning abruptly, you come face to face with the man from earlier, Jaehyun. He gives you a chilling grin.

“So we meet again,” he starts, and his voice no longer sounds eerie or inauthentic. He sounds like, well, a normal man. “Tell me, what would you do if I were to kiss you?”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips on instinct. “Depends. Are you a good kisser?” You aim for coy, but you miss the mark and land closer to worried.

“You could say that.” He pulls you close with one hand on the back of your head, stopping right before your lips. “May I?”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a gentle, closed mouth kiss.

It’s like that touch ignites a fire in you, because before you know it, your arms are thrown around his neck, dragging him closer to deepen the kiss. You lick along his lower lip and he readily grants you access, a throaty groan leaving him when you suck on his tongue. Liquid heat courses through your veins when he nips at your lower lip, tongue flicking over it in apology. You moan, raw and needy. He likes that, if the chuckle and wicked grin is anything to go by. Picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, he walks over to a bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

He drops you on the bed, and then suddenly you’re both naked. Jaehyun leans over you, all lean muscles and golden skin. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his legs, and you have the urge to swallow him down. He groans, as if reading your mind, and then reaches to pump himself slowly, long fingers wrapped around the length. “Not now, little bird, not now. I have something else in mind.” With one gentle push to your shoulders, you’re lying flat on the bed, Jaehyun between your legs. His mouth hovers over your core, already wet and dripping despite not having been touched. He plays idly with the slick on your upper thigh, drawing random patterns into the flesh. His eyes are dark, and you could swear that they’re entirely black, no white visible. He peers curiously up at you from between your legs, watching your reaction as his fingers get closer and closer to where you want him. Your breathing picks up as arousal thrums through your body, center pulsing and aching for some sort of relief.

“May I have you?” His breath ghosts over your center when you speak, the sensation making you even needier. 

You nod quickly. “Take it, fuck, you have all of me.” He grins, wasting no time in diving in. His tongue feels impossibly good, licking up your folds and circling over your clit. He leaves sloppy kisses along your core, one hand massaging your thigh and keeping you spread open. You cry out when his tongue pushes into you, his nose brushing your clit and sending sparks up your spine.

His tongue feels impossibly long, so good inside of you that you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your hips buck up desperately, riding his face to hell and back. One arm gets thrown over your stomach to keep you in place while two fingers from his free hand dip into your soaking core, curling into that spot immediately. Stars flash behind your eyes, one hand coming down to fist in Jaehyun’s hair. Your feet scramble frantically along his back, heels digging in in an effort to anchor yourself, toes curling at the sensations singing through you.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer, heat pooling in your center. You whimper brokenly as you try to chase after your high, grinding your hips along his tongue. He lets you, just holding his tongue flat out for you to ride.

You come like that, falling apart on his tongue, screams of his name falling from your lips. He works you through it, tongue gently licking along your folds, slurping up your arousal as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks.

You lay there, boneless and whimpering weakly through the aftershocks until Jaehyun pulls away to kiss up your body. He licks into your mouth hotly, reminding you that he hasn’t come yet. You bat weakly at his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Your turn,”

He groans in appreciation at the view of you above him. “So perfect, little bird. I’m gonna have so much fun with your soul.”

This sentence freezes you in your spot. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaehyun meets your gaze, black eyes entrancing you. “That means, y/n, that I’m going to have your soul. You belong to me now, hmm?” One of his hands plays gently with a strand of your hair. “That’s what you agreed to earlier, no?”

“N-no.” You try backing away, but the inhuman voice from earlier is back, echoing everywhere, repeating his words over and over until you can’t take it anymore-

You wake with a gasp, hitting your head as you sit up. Your computer is still on your lap, episode fifteen playing. Fuck, you’ve only been asleep for forty five minutes. It’s not even three yet, and you don’t have to go to work until eight. Deciding there’s no way you’re falling back asleep, you get up and decide to bake.

Five hours later, your coworkers love you when you show up with containers of cinnamon rolls, five different types of cookies, and a coffee cake. Mark looks mildly worried.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you bake since high school.” You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face Mark. The look of concern on your best friend’s face is enough to make you feel guilty and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Had a bad dream last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You respond, trying not to show how bothered you actually are.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mark leans forward over his desk, chin planted on his hand.

“No, it’s gonna sound dumb.” You whine, shaking your head. And it is dumb, even to you. You’re scared because you had a dream that some man ate you out and then told you he was going to take your soul?

“Well, you always sound dumb. Of course your dreams are gonna be dumb.” Mark laughs as you chuck a piece of cake at him, infectious laugh soothing you. You sigh.

Mark raises his eyebrows at you when you finish telling him your dream. “You’re scared because you had a wet dream? Damn, I’d be living in a nightmare if I was scared after every wet dream I’ve had.”

You kick him under the table. “Mark! It was really scary. He told me he was going to take my soul!”

Upon seeing that you’re actually freaked out, his face softens. “Look, y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You probably just thought that he was hot, and your brain remembered his face and put it in a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it; what’s the worst he’s gonna do, haunt you?”

You give a shaky nod, agreeing. It’s not like something from your dreams could actually harm you. Mark reaches across the desk, taking your hand in his and giving a tight squeeze, warm brown eyes gazing at you openly. “And if something does happen, just remember that I’m your best friend. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mark. Means a lot to me.”

He leans back in his seat. “Anytime, anyplace, anything. Triple A.”

You smile, raising an eyebrow. “Anything?”

His eyes go wide, taking in the glint in your eyes. “Within reason.”

“How about a sip of coffee?” You nod down at his cup, pasting a huge smile on your face.

“I did say within reason, so no.”

You huff. “I expected that.”

Although you don’t scare easily, it’s safe to say that you’re a bit unsettled tonight, especially after your nightmare last night. You find yourself jumping at every little noise, hand slamming the light switch on with your pulse racing every five minutes. This has been going on for an hour, and after a final sweep of your room reveals nothing, you decide that maybe a face mask will help you relax.

Your bathroom has two mirrors facing each other, which is normally a blessing when you do your hair, but tonight it does nothing but make you want to hide under your blankets.

Get a grip on yourself, you chastise, grabbing your phone and opening spotify. Maybe some music will help? You click on your Christmas playlist because what better way to cheer up than to think about your favorite holiday?

A mistake, really, because it seems that you’ve forgotten how creepy Santa is.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Yikes. You stop that song in a hurry, feeling anything but comforted. No music then, noted.

You reach for your face wash, turning the sink on and waiting for the water to warm. You can’t help but glance in the mirror behind you every so often, paranoia getting the best of you. Man, you feel pathetic, worrying about monsters in your closet like you’re six and not twenty-six.

You wash your face quickly, hoping that your fears will wash away as well. No such luck.

You swear you see something move behind you after you dry your face off, but there’s nothing there. Shaking it off, you reach for your face mask, taking your time painting your face with the green clay.

It’s after your face is coated that you spot someone in the glass behind you. You scream, whipping around to come face to face with a man. Not just any man- Jaehyun.

Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes widening in fear. He seems to be in the mirror, copying your petrified expression mockingly.

“Hello, little bird.” He purrs, smirking lightly.

“Are you- are you in my mirror?” You’re in disbelief, mind struggling to comprehend this. First you spot him while in a weird trance, then in a dream, and now in your mirror? Maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis.

“No, I am not. Mirrors are just gateways to alternate dimensions. I’m merely using the mirror to visit you.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. It feels like your throat is made of sandpaper with how hard it is to choke out your words. “O-okay. I’m just gonna- yeah.”

You grab your phone from the counter and bolt, fumbling for your keys before jumping into your car and speeding off in the direction of Mark’s house. You call him, fingers fumbling on the screen. He goes to voicemail the first time, and your heart drops. “No, no, no,” you whisper frantically, calling again. He does pick up this time.

“Y/n? It’s the middle of the night.” His voice sounds gruff, and you feel guilty for waking him up. One glance in your rear view mirror reveals that Jaehyun is joining you on this ride, and you scream, car swerving violently to one side before you straighten it out.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mark’s voice has lost its sleepy edge, taking on a concerned tone. He says your name again, more frantic.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your tires squeal as you make a turn, now only two blocks away. “Can I- can I come over? I really need to be with someone right now.”

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome. The door’s unlocked.”

You hang up, willing the tears in your eyes to not spill over. Finally arriving, you slam on the breaks and haphazardly pull next to a curb, yanking the key out of the ignition and sprinting to Mark’s house.

You lock the door behind you when you step inside, testing the handle as if a door could stop a mirror traveling demon or whatever the fuck Jaehyun was from coming inside. “Mirrors,” you mumble, reaching the stairs.

“Y/n? What’s-” Mark stands at the top of the stairs, one hand rubbing at his eyes. You cut him off, flying up the stairs.

“Mirrors, fuck. Mark, we need to cover the mirrors!” You breeze by his shocked figure, not noticing the way he turns to stare at you incredulously.

“What, why? Y/n, are you crazy?”

Ignoring him, you throw a towel over the mirror in his bathroom, ripping open a pack of bandaids to use as adhesive.

You throw another towel over the mirror in his bedroom, collapsing on his bed when you’re done and finally allowing yourself to sob.

“Y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Mark, as gentle and caring as ever, comes over to sit next to you, one hand combing through your hair.

“I- don’t laugh at me.” You stare him straight in the eye, pleading with him. You know you’re going to sound crazy, but you’re praying that your best friend listens to you. He nods, urging you to go on.

“That- that man I saw in my dream and during whatever fucked up game Hyuck had us play? He was in my fucking mirror, Mark. I- the whole night, I had this feeling that I was being watched, and then I went into my bathroom and he was just there, and-” You’re hyperventilating at this point, fighting for every breath, tears clouding your vision. “He was in my car, in the rear view mirror-” Mark pulls you closer, enveloping you in his arms and allowing you to sob loudly into his chest. You cry for a few minutes, until you’re finally able to pull yourself together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve had a rough week, I know. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

He wipes a tear away from your check, patting you lightly. “Why don’t you go wash this off, okay? We can watch a movie after.” He offers, and until that point, you’d forgotten you were wearing a face mask. You grimace at the green imprint on his black shirt, but he just chuckles. “I’ll go grab you some water in the meantime.”

Nodding, you garner up the energy to walk to his bathroom. It’s fine, the mirror’s covered, he can’t hurt you. You close the door just in case, wanting an extra level of protection

You rinse your face with cold water, hoping that it will clear your mind. You give your face a couple more splashes before drying off with a towel.

“You missed a spot on your forehead.” You freeze before looking around wildly. There’s no one around, which can only mean that Jaehyun can still see you. Swallowing, you start the water again, rubbing at your forehead.

“And your left cheek.” You rub at the skin, being way too harsh but you excuse it considering your situation. “No, your other left. My left.”

“Jesus,” You growl in annoyance, reaching up to rip the towel down. Sure enough, there’s a splotch of green on your cheek. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind.

You finish rinsing the mask off, finding some face lotion buried in Mark’s drawer, screaming bloody murder when Jaehyun appears in the mirror again. “Looking for me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” You cry, head spinning. Jaehyun fakes a pout, holding a hand over his heart in mock hurt. Do demons even have hearts?

“Ouch, little bird. You don’t want to finish what we started the other night? When I had you moaning so pretty, so wet for me. I’m sure your pussy would take me so well, hmm?” Your heart rate kicks up again, but for a different reason this time. You almost moan, thinking about the dream.

Because he was right, you had been so wet. The want comes back full forces, slamming into you like a truck. You remember how needy you were, wanting to suck his cock so bad, wanting him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. All fear that you previously had is slowly disappearing, fading into lust.

The demon smiles knowingly. “Ah, little bird, so you do remember. Remember how you promised me that you’re mine?”

You nod, eyes glazing over. You’re wet, panties starting to stick to your throbbing core uncomfortably.

“Mmmh, I bet you’re already dripping for me. Just waiting for me to come out and fill you up.”

Hearing your name leave his lips sends a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong that your knees buckle, grabbing onto the counter for support. He chuckles, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Mark.

“What were you say-” Your best friend trails off, eyes wide as he observes the scene. You snap out of your haze at the interruption. His mouth parts in shock. “You really weren’t kidding, shit.” He laughs humorlessly.

Then, quick as lightning, he rears back and punches the mirror. You scream in surprise at the crack, shards falling to the floor.

You and Mark both stare at the broken shards of glass on the ground, gleaming under the lights. “Mark,” You start, trailing off once you realize you have nothing to say. He seems to understand, walking forward until he’s close enough to pull you into a hug. You feel tears start to slide down your cheeks, dampening the cotton of your best friends shirt. You hug him closer, burying your face into his broad chest. He wraps himself around you, and you let yourself be lulled into the sense of security that his larger frame brings you. A sense of security that vanishes once you hear a low chuckle that definitely does not belong to Mark.

You both scream, leaping backwards and away from the noise. Jaehyun stands there, just in front of the door, with a shit eating grin on his face. You cower behind Mark, who is wrapping a protective arm around you while simultaneously trying to hide behind you.

“I really must thank you for finally setting me free. Normally I have to wait for some asshole with a ouija board, but then there’s just so many other demons that I have to compete with. So I just stick to the dream world-” He pauses to wink at you for emphasis “-but this is so much more fun.” His eyes are black, and you can’t tell where he’s looking. Swallowing, you clutch onto Mark’s arm for dear life.

The demon seems to regard the two of you for a moment, before his amusement seems to grow. He begins to move forward.

“Ah, Mark Lee. Lovely name for a stupid boy. Didn’t you know breaking a mirror is bad luck?” By this point, you and Mark are flattened against the wall, while Jaehyun stands less than a foot away from the two of you. There’s nowhere to run. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

Jaehyun chuckles, turning to you. You lower your gaze to the ground; it hurts to make eye contact with him. “No, little bird. This isn’t how you die, don’t worry.”

Then he’s backing away from the two of you, motioning to follow him. The logical part of your brain is screaming not to, but you find yourself drawn to him, legs carrying you after him without your consent, Mark clutching your arm tightly as he walks next to you.

Jaehyun seems to know the layout of the house, leading you straight into Mark’s bedroom. The demon grabs a chair from the desk and spins it around, straddling it so that he’s facing the bed.

He motions lazily. “Go on now, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

You find yourself sitting down on the edge of the bed, following his words like marching orders. Mark sits about half a foot away from you. Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. I said to get comfortable, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue with him. “Go lay down at the head board.”

You crawl to the head of the bed, settling so that you’re on your side, facing the demon. Mark follows suit, pulling you close to him so that you’re spooning. Jaehyun lets out a pleased hum. “Much better. Aren’t you much more comfortable now?” Nodding, you realize that you actually are more comfortable. It’s not just the change of position, but the energy in the room as well. The demon is no longer giving off a threatening aura. It’s more relaxed, maybe even happy? He certainly looks more relaxed, probably as happy as a demon can get, if not a little smug.

Your body is pulsing with energy, and it takes you a moment to place what you’re feeling. The earlier need to run that you had felt has been replaced with another need, albeit further down. Your thighs clench as another surge of heat pulses through your core, and your face warms at the realization. Why now, of all times, are you horny?

Jaehyun’s grin broadens as he seems to sense your dilemma. “Oh, little bird, if only you knew. Tell me, what type of demon do you think I am?” He watches you curiously, black eyes staring into your soul.

You try to tilt your head towards Mark, but the position’s too awkward and you only catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He looks a bit flushed from what you can see, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, teeth that you could easily replace with your own- you blink, dazedly. What the fuck? Sexual thoughts about your best friend? That’s a new one. Even if you’ve noticed that he’s hot, you’d never thought about him sexually. Now, though, you can feel the hardness of his dick against your ass, and you can’t help but think about how good he could fuck you.

“Incubus,” You finally manage, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of your vision. Jaehyun grins, looking genuinely surprised that you’d gotten it right.

“Good girl. Make a little sense now?” You nod, fighting a moan as Mark starts to rock against you, slowly, as if he’s unconsciously doing it. Jaehyun notices.

“How about you, Mark? You doing alright over there?”

Your friend, your best friend, buries his face in your neck and groans, deep and delicious. It sends another surge of heat through your body, the growing need between your legs pulsing pathetically. “What are you doing to us?” The words are growled behind you, vibrating against the skin where his lips are pressed.

“Oh no, Mark, I’m not doing anything to you. The only thing I can do to you is make you realize your desires. Your deepest, darkest fantasies? I make that happen. Finally being able to fuck the girl you’ve been in love with for years? I make that happen.” The words take a minute to register with you, but you stiffen when the meaning hits you. Mark Lee, in love with you? An unlikely story, bordering impossible.

The demon chuckles at your inner turmoil, rolling his eyes at how dumb humans can be. “You too, y/n. You love Mark, even if you won’t admit it. You let the idea that he was too good for you scare you away from him. Do you not remember how often you thought of him, late at night after first meeting him?”

You groan in protest, not because it’s not true, but because you do remember. It had been so long ago. When you hadn’t known Mark, had only known of him. You pull away from Mark, awkwardly pushing him to lay flat against the pillows while you clamber on top of him.

“Mark, is it true? Do you love me?” You hold his face between your hands, staring into his eyes. He meets your gaze, pupils blown and eyes half lidded. He nods as best he can.

“So, so much.” Mark’s voice comes out raspy, matching his flushed skin. You lean down to kiss him, uncaring of the other presence in the room. Mark moans when your lips make contact, hands pulling you to straddle him. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his clothed cock against your center, rocking your hips to try to ease the throb of your core. His hands fly to your ass, pulling and kneading at the flesh as he urges you into a harsher pace.

The kiss is rougher, needier now, open mouthed and panting. Mark’s got his tongue tangled with yours, sucking in such a way that sends waves of heat through you. You want him in you, any part of him really.

Jaehyun seems to agree, speaking up from right next to you. You jump, having forgotten he was there although he’s the reason you’re like this in the first place.

“Let’s get the show on the road. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we’d all enjoy something else a little more.” The demon reaches for the hem of your shirt and you nod, raising your arms above your head to let him pull the garment off. Mark groans at the newly revealed skin, hands going to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Fuck,” He whines, staring in awe at your chest. He doesn’t waste time before leaning up to kiss along your cleavage, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts. Another set of hands unclasp the bra before traveling down your torso to rub circles into your hip bones, sliding your sleeping shorts and panties off at the same time. Jaehyun throws the shorts somewhere off the bed. He keeps the panties, a pleased sigh leaving him as he appreciates the ruined fabric.

“Fuck, little bird. You’re really enjoying this,” He comments, as if he isn’t a fucking lust demon that can sense these kinds of things. You don’t voice your thoughts, because Mark chooses this moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin so that all you can do is moan. “You’ve even ruined your panties. They’re soaked.”

He hands the strip of lace to Mark, who lets out a throaty groan at the sight. “You’re not getting these back.” He informs you, slipping the garment into his bedside drawer. You ignore him, instead tugging insistently at his shirt. He takes pity on you, grabbing the collar and yanking the baggy tee over his head.

You let your hands slide down his chest in admiration, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. You lick your lips at how broad his shoulders are, how strong he looks. Jaehyun doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the view, gliding two fingers along your slit before circling around your little nub. A cry of pleasure leaves you to mindlessly press your face into Mark’s collarbone, nipping and sucking the flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a bruise.

Jaehyun slips the two fingers into your aching core, curling and dragging them so well along your walls. Sparks of electricity flow through your veins, heat pooling in your center.

Mark groans from below you. Looking down, you see that you’ve unconsciously dug your nails into his hard chest in an effort to ground yourself. You remove your hands, only to spot little red half crescents littered over his skin. You rub your palms over the marks as if to soothe them, but it seems that the man wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Y/n” He sounds so fucked out, voice hoarse and raw even though hardly anything has happened yet. “You look so good like this, so perfect for me.” He brings one large hand up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone before moving down to trace your lower lip. You part your lips, letting him slide in before sucking around the digit, tongue curling around it as if it were his cock. His eyes darken a fraction, tongue coming out to wet his lips, swollen and kiss bitten.

You moan around the digit as Jaehyun adds a third finger, stretching your walls so pleasantly that you can’t help but buck your hips back for more. A whine forces its way out of your throat as the demon pulls his fingers out of you, leaving an empty ache between your thighs.

“Don’t you think it would be more fun if she was sucking on something a bit bigger than your finger, Mark?” The voice startles you, breath tickling your ear as he speaks. The man under you nods, swallowing thickly. Your eyes are drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and a gush of wetness pulses down below. Your thighs are probably covered in your arousal at this point.

You scoot down his body, trailing kisses and bites down his toned stomach. You take your time unzipping his pants, sucking a mark into the soft skin below his navel. He’s hard as a rock, and you moan in appreciation at the sheer size of him once you shimmy his jeans down his thighs.

“No underwear?” You ask, mouth curling up in a teasing smirk. He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. “No, ‘s too restricting.”

You lazily pump his dick, thumb flicking over the tip once or twice. You plan to tease him more, but then Jaehyun’s pushing your head down and you have no choice but to open your mouth wide, innocent eyes peeking up at Mark as you take his cock in your mouth. He’s so big that you can’t take him in all the way, keeping one hand curled around his cock to stroke what your mouth can’t reach. You let it get sloppy, using your spit to ease the glide until you’ve got a pleasant rhythm going. Mark replaces Jaehyun’s hands with his own, gathering strands of your hair in his palms and using that grip to control your pace. “F-fuck,” He lets out a shaky exhale, letting his head fall back against the pillows once he’s satisfied with the pace.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, a loud smack sounding throughout the room. You moan, pitching forward onto Mark’s cock and gagging as he hits the back of your throat. A strangled cry leaves the man above you, his hips thrusting even further into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

The demon kneads your stinging flesh before using his grip on you to pull your hips up. “Good girl,” You keen under his praises, sticking your ass up even higher. The warm, wet pressure against your center has you faltering, moaning almost violently around Mark’s cock. He doesn’t seem to be having any complaints, the vibrations forcing a moan of his own out.

Your eyes roll up into your head as Jaehyun wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You’re sure you’d be screaming by now if Mark’s cock wasn’t halfway down your throat. You’ve given up sucking him off by this point, content to let the man fuck your mouth while Jaehyun sucks your fucking soul out from between your legs. It feels so good, not used to being the center of even one man’s focus, let alone two.

Mark eases you off of his cock after you accidentally bite him, using your spit to ease the slide as he lazily fucks up into his loose fist. You rest your head on his thigh, alternating between moaning wantonly and mouthing messily against the skin as you feel your orgasm approach.

Jaehyun pulls away at the last second, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is cut off. The feeling of frustration leaves you close to tears, and you jiggle your ass in hopes that it will regain his attention. It does momentarily, as Jaehyun lands a harsh smack on the flesh, but he pulls away again.

“Mark,” The man in question looks up, hand freezing on his dick as if waiting for Jaehyun’s orders. And fuck, what a sight that would be: your normally brash and confident friend being so pliant and submissive to a near stranger… You blink out of it, feeling mildly ashamed even in your current state. Luckily, Jaehyun interrupts your thoughts. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you go first. You’ve been waiting long enough for this, anyway.”

Mark nods eagerly, pulling you into a desperate kiss. You paw at every inch of skin you can reach, searching for a release from the ache inside of you. Your wish is granted when he hooks two fingers in your soaking cunt, groaning at how wet you are. He scissors you open quickly, hissing at how tight you feel.

“Ready, angel? Want my cock?” The pet name has you moaning, though it draws a low chuckle from Jaehyun, who’s watching from his position next to Mark.

“Hurry up, already. Need you in me, ‘ve waited so long.”

Mark lights up at this, smile stretching his features. He looks so breathtaking in this moment, skin glowing and flushed, hair mussed up, eyes blown wide and half lidded.

“I’m yours,” He breathes, leaning up for one last kiss. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you forward so that you’re hovering above his thick cock. “Ride me baby.”

“I’d love to.” Reaching one hand down to position him at your entrance, you start to lower yourself down. Of course, Jaehyun chooses this exact moment to stop you. He truly is the spawn of Satan.

“Little bird, hold on just a second. I found something of interest in the back of Markie’s brain.” You cringe as he mocks your earlier nickname for the man. “What’s this I’m seeing, Mark? You like it up the ass?” His tone is teasing, but Mark groans in embarrassment. His face has gone an alarming shade of red by this point. “N-no,” He tries to deny, sputtering excuses but Jaehyun cuts him off with a press of a finger to his lips. “Oh, Mark, don’t get shy on me now. It’s a perfectly fine thing to like. Little bird, you’ll get your turn in a minute. You,” He snaps his fingers at Mark. “Come here. Kneel up, just like that. Perfect.” He appraises Mark’s ass for a moment, hands moulding the flesh before slipping a finger in. Mark’s eyebrows furrow, and you shoot up in alarm. “Doesn’t he need lube?”

Jaehyun looks at you, surprised that you care, before chuckling. “I can produce lube. Perks of being a lust demon.” Winking at you, he returns his focus to Mark. You can’t see what he’s doing, but the pure pleasure present on your best friends face has you clenching your thighs together, waves of need crashing through you. If you thought he looked good before, he looks absolutely gone now. Breathless groans are leaving him now, eyelids fighting to stay open as he sinks down on the others fingers. You watch him, mesmerized, before shuffling over to him.

“How close are you?”

He forces his gaze down to you. “Kind of- nngh- close, w-why?” 

Wrapping a hand around his base lightly, you start stroking. “Will you come if I blow you?”

He moans, a punched out sound that takes you by surprise. “Fuck, yes, I’ll definitely come if you blow me.” You pout in disappointment. Upon seeing your crestfallen expression, he continues. “Maybe we c-can- oh, yes- figure something out. Jaehyun,” He turns his head back behind him, struggling to get the words out between moans. “Can I eat y/n out?”

There’s just something so hot about Mark asking for permission from someone else that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. Jaehyun must nod, because then you’re being laid back, Mark settling between your thighs. He’s sucking sweet kisses into your core almost immediately, pulling your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. You’re letting out sharp cries of pleasure the whole time, eyes fighting the urge to roll back in your head in favor of watching Mark between your legs. A particularly well placed flick of his tongue has your hips rolling against his face, grasping the sheets in your hand as your mind blanks. The pleasure climbing through your system is insane, threatening to burn you from the inside out.

It only gets better once Mark starts moaning, his sinful mouth sending sweet vibrations traveling up your core. You manage to catch sight of Jaehyun behind him, kissing wetly along his shoulders and neck, features curving into a smirk once he notices you watching him.

“Little bird likes this, hmm? Like watching another man pleasure your boyfriend while he pleases you?” You hum, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze, unable to even think, letting his boyfriend comment slide. Whereas before it hurt to look directly into his eyes, you now find yourself getting lost in his dark orbs. It’s like a drug, your pleasure being amplified by the man, demon, whatever in front of you.

You finally break eye contact, head falling back against the mattress as Mark draws you closer and closer to your peak. Burying one hand in his hair, you use the leverage to grind your core against his face, chasing your sweet release. “C-close, Mark, please-” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. It’s too much but not enough at the same time. Jaehyun saves you from having to decide by cruelly ripping your orgasm away from you, again, dragging Mark’s face away from your pussy.

A few tears slip down your face at this point, frustration reaching its peak. Jaehyun wipes the tears away, laughing lowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire soon.”

He must pull out of Mark, because your friend whimpers before seeming to realize what he just did and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Mark, would you like to fuck our little bird now?” Mark nods, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.

Jaehyun smirks. “Good. On your back. Y/n, ride him.” You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble onto your knees, wasting no time in straddling Mark before dropping yourself down on him. You both moan in satisfaction, you at finally being filled and Mark at your tightness. You have to brace both hands on his chest, almost collapsing at the overwhelming relief you feel. Beyond the burn of the stretch, his cock filling you up so nicely, there’s a sweet pleasure, a satisfaction.

You don’t wait very long to adjust, grinding your hips in smooth circles before lifting yourself off of him and dropping yourself back down. You quickly start a rhythm of you bouncing on his cock, eyes rolling at how fucking big he feels in you.

Mark’s hands are locked in a vice grip on your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh and using his grip to urge you into a faster pace.

Jaehyun decides to join, coming up behind you to kiss at your neck, one hand reaching up to your mouth. “Suck,” He commands, slipping two fingers past your willing lips. You do, hollowing your cheeks and slurping around the digits, wishing that it was his dick. He hums behind you, bringing the wet digits down to your entrance, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fast circles into the little nub. You moan even louder now, feeling yourself speed towards your climax. You’ve been on edge for too long, you can’t hold on anymore.

“You close, little bird? Going to come on Mark’s cock? Gonna make him fill you up, pound into that dirty cunt?” His words get to you, your head falling back against his shoulder once more.

“Yes, yes! Oh, please, please-” He cuts off your mindless rambling by pulling you in for a kiss, one that you melt into. This is the first time he’s kissed you, and you’re quite upset that you hadn’t kissed him earlier. It’s a hot kiss, lots of tongue and teeth. It heightens your pleasure immensely, and you can’t stop kissing him. You suck on his tongue filthily, and oh, he must like that if the resulting groan is anything to go by. Even when he goes to pull away, you won’t let him, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him close. He seems to be speeding up your release, if that were even possible. Your mind feels hazier now, every sensation heightened, core screaming for release. You feel your orgasm twisting painfully at your insides, pulsing before finally exploding. The intensity of it rips a scream out of your throat, nails scratching across Mark’s chest as Jaehyun licks even deeper into your mouth, drinking up the noises you make.

When you come down, Mark is still thrusting desperately up into you, though he stops at the demons command. “From behind,” You hear Jaehyun say, but everything’s hazy at this point. Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, and it’s like watching through a screen. Like you’re high, though you hadn’t had anything the whole day.

Mark manhandles you into position, hands and knees with your ass raised high in the air. He leaves one gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before relentlessly pounding into you, cock hitting even deeper in this position. Jaehyun kneels in front of you, pulling your face in towards his cock. You moan around him as he slips inside, mouth not quite burning at the stretch like Mark, though the demon still has you gagging. His cock has the same effect on you as his kisses did, and you feel addicted. You’re slurping and sucking and moaning around him, not wanting the intense pleasure to stop. You barely hear the kissing above you, taking far too long to register that Jaehyun has pulled Mark into a messy kiss above you. The image has you moaning even more wantonly, ass pushing back against Mark.

The kiss seems to have a similar effect on the man, because then he’s slamming into you at an even more relentless rate, moans higher and more frequent before he’s coming with a shout, finally filling you up. Your core pulses again at the feeling, and you suck at Jaehyun’s dick with renewed vigor. His hands fist in your hair, keeping you still so that he can fuck your mouth as hard as he wants. You relish in the feeling of your throat being fucked raw, spit dripping out of your mouth and down his cock. He lets out a deep groan, hips slamming deep one last time as he finishes. His cum seems to ignite a fire within you, because you’re coming almost simultaneously with him, despite not even being touched.

You collapse afterwards, dragging yourself to Mark and letting him drape himself over you. You let yourself drift off to sleep, sated and still riding the high.

The demon kisses each of you one last time, drinking in the last remaining parts of your soul, watching as the two humans take their last breaths. “Thanks for the meal, lovelies.” He chuckles, petting your head almost affectionately before walking out into the night sky, not sparing a single glance back.

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao and Diluc: Opposites Attract HCs

Minor spoilers for Xiao’s and Diluc’s backstory.

Yes, more xiao content. Oh and Diluc. Diluc is there too. I wonder who my favourite child is? Honestly, it’s probably Childe. Every time I write “child” I end up misspelling it to “childe”. It’s consumed me. But yes anon I love the opposites attract trope. It’s so nice having person A be this cute cinnamon roll and person B is the ew don’t touch me go away I hate you, just mwah 💕

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Today’s appreciation post goes to imlikemoony. My entire reblog notifications have just been you and thanks for the spam haha. I love seeing new people go through my work and enjoy it so thank you^^ Please don’t feel like this is a callout post I swear it isn’t 💕💕

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Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ]

Diluc HCs

[ Comfort HCs ] [ Relationship HCs ] [ Being Fathers HCs ] [ Jealously HCs ] [ Unrequited Love HCs ] [ String of Fate [Soulmate] ]  [ Fainting ]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu​ @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav

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Xiao and Diluc: Opposites Attract HCs

Xiao

It occurs to Xiao one day that despite being alive for centuries, he doesn’t know a lot of people. Xiao has only known Rex Lapis and his fellow adepti and only just recently introduced this life to others such as Verr and Ming. It never bothered him and still doesn’t, he prefers his life to be peaceful and in solitude since it’s safer that way, but when you crash into his life with all your unrestrained energy. He’s a bit of a loss for words. The only other person he knows that acts similar is Guizhong, but it’s still a bit of a troubling memory but either then that, he’s never interacted with someone so...open with their feelings. Though he supposes that Hu Tao was somewhat similar but in a different way. Unlike the craziness and exasperated actions that Hu Tao brought, your presence was a breath of fresh air and sometimes he found himself caught up in your antics.

When Xiao thinks about it, if he were to ever find love he suspected he would prefer someone who was calm and independent. He wasn’t the most affectionate so he wouldn’t want a partner that relied on that and he liked the peace and quiet the inn provided. That was until he saved you one day and you felt it was your absolute responsibility to return the favour, even though he told you many times that you really did not need to. If you wanted to return the favour you could leave him alone. Simple as that. Which didn’t work and in hindsight he was glad you were so stubborn to hang around until you managed to find out his favourite food was almond tofu.

The moment that set in stone Xiao’s love for you is when he told you his past. When he was named Atalus. How he had been possessed and forced to kill against his will. How he devoured dreams and lived in agony before he was saved by Rex Lapis. He was scared that you would fear and leave him, only for you to slowly lace your hands with his and wept for his own misfortune. He’s never had someone cry for him and he realized that he never wanted to see you upset like this again.

At first your larger than life personality put him off a bit, how could someone run through life as if nothing was wrong? What would happen if you finally faced loss? Wouldn’t that make things worse? It wasn’t until he spent more time with you that he saw your point of view, that while he couldn’t adopt the same idea, he respected it and began to appreciate it. It was nice having some sort of solace in his day even if it was just for a few minutes. Something to get his mind of the darker things while you start chatting about this really nice old lady with a domain sized teapot.  

Though, there was a bit of a downside to this. Since you bared your heart on your sleeve, perhaps in Mondstadt it would seem normal but here in Liyue, everyone hid behind some kind of mask so people found you a bit naïve and would try and hassle you. It always sent Xiao into a worried state when you left the inn to go out on your next adventure. Verr likes to compare him to a cat waiting for it’s owner at the door, but as soon as they return he acts so moody as if he wasn’t waiting at the balcony trying to see if he could see your clothing peak over the hill. He has no idea how she comes up with these ridiculous ideas.

Another “downside” Xiao discovers is that you have mini bursts of affection. You describe it as a those anemo slimes that pop when you shoot them, morbid as that description is, you’re not wrong. Your bursts of affection always manage to startle and embarrass Xiao, especially when he was with others. He wasn’t going to tell you to change yourself, never will he do that, but when you clasp his hands and tell him with all your love and shining eyes that he’s “doing such a good job” and “you’re so proud of him”. He wants to melt because wow, he never noticed how much he values your praise and how it sends his heart flying. But he can’t because Childe and Zhongli are right there.

Zhongli smiles pleasantly while Childe looses his absolute shit, which causes Xiao to kick his spear at Childe because he refuses to let go of your hands and hisses at him. Even when you try and scold him it doesn’t last long because this has become a weekly occurrence. Only now Xiao will give you a quick kiss before he goes off to gut Childe while you and Zhongli wave pleasantly and talk about how the weather is faring. Everyone that isn’t a native to Liyue think’s you’re all insane as they hear Childe’s screams as Xiao attempts first degree murder.

It interesting to see you both interact to outsiders. Xiao has his piercing yellow eyes and reserved demeanor while you’re this sweet and bright person. Before Xiao met you, people could never get a good look at the mysterious man that stays in the top balcony of the Wangshu Inn. But now if they came at the right time, they could spot a soft smiled man in green listening to a very animated talk with someone else, using their hands with a dramatic flair. That is until the man notices them trying to eavesdrop and the softness in his eyes drops and goes to irritation as he glares at them, curling a hand around his partner’s waist, and he let’s off a warning growl. His partner never seems bothered, only turning around to give a small wave in greeting, smiling as if the dangerous aura radiating behind them didn’t exist, before giving the man a small kiss as they go back to their conversation.

While you live a larger than life way, you also enjoy the small moments with Xiao. Xiao prefers to spend his time sitting above the inn and overlooking Liyue which you enjoy too. Resting near each other as you watch the sun go down is calming and takes the stress of life away. But sometimes you just want to bring Xiao out and have some fun.

Which ends up with you dragging him off to the pond near the Wangshuu inn, you wanted to catch frogs for whatever reason. Weren’t you both a bit too old to be playing with frogs? But he stands by and watch's you chase around the poor animals, tracking mud all over your clothing and skin, he can’t help but let a small smile slip. It isn’t until you end up falling into the pond after slipping that he’s on alert mode that he runs over worried.

Only for you to pop up and start bursting out into laughter. Xiao is stunned for a few moment as he watches you laugh at your own mistake, mud scrapped all over your face and clothes, the fact that you’re still in the pond with a frog on your head. He can’t help but feel his face fall as his mouth twitches into a smile as he chuckles along with you. He reaches over to try and scrub the dirt off your face but it only ends up smearing it more but you appreciate the effort. He carefully lifts you up as he carries you back to the inn. He thinks back to when you both first met, how he spent so much time worrying over his life as an adeptis and you as a human, but now those thoughts have been flung out of his mind. He wants to take your approach, that why worry over the little details of the future when you can enjoy the bigger moments you have now.

Diluc

On days that Diluc works as the bartender for Angel Share, if you come at just the right time when the sun was still high in the sky, you might be able to catch the ever distant man smiling and engaged with a conversation with one specific patron. Of course, this silly “rumour” was made up by the ladies of Mondstadt with too much free time on their hands but given Diluc’s reputation and demeanor it did make some travelers curious. Only for them to write it off as this special patron to be a green bard or cunning captain. One that Diluc surely did not crack a smile at. In fact it seemed to be the opposite. But the tavern isn’t so bad, there’s this nice individual that will listen to all your sorrows with kind eyes and a gentle heart.  

As soon as the last customer leaves and Diluc locks the door, does he let his shoulder drop and he breathes a sigh of relief. Before turning and walking to you as he let’s himself relax in your embrace. He listens as you re-tell on the woes of a jewelry saleswoman from Liyue to how Venti is still getting ID checked at the Cat’s Tail as he basks in your warmth. He’s glad that this is what’s troubling the people of Mondstadt and not anything incredibly dangerous relating to the Fatui or the Abyss Order. He asks if you’re doing alright to which you grin and nod that everything was perfect, before placing a small kiss on your forehead and he leads you out back and into the night and ready to return home.

Kaeya finds a lot of enjoyment going to up to you and discussing his “concerns” about Diluc. It always leads to you fretting over his health and if he was working too hard and he should take a break. Diluc is whipped and cannot say no to you so he always begrudgingly let’s you lead him away as Kaeya smiles and waves him off. It’s gotten to the point that no matter what Diluc is in the middle of, unless it’s of the upmost importance, if he catches Kaeya anywhere near you he’s swooping in and leading you away.

Diluc has always been straight to the point, non-nonsense idle talk, but when you drag him away to simply lie down at Starsnatch Cliff just because you were worried about him, he can’t help but feel his heart warm. Watching you blow on dandelions and enjoy the peaceful winds of Mondstadt does he let his hectic life standstill. 

When Diluc first met you, it was during his three year long journey to discover the truth of his father and the Delusions. You had saved him during his escape from a Fatui stronghold and explained you were apart of a third-party observer from the North. A vast underground intelligence network that approved of his actions and wanted him to join. Diluc, still deep in his anger and untrustworthy state of anyone, declined the offer but you still hanged around him. He didn’t understand why, and frankly did not want you anywhere near him, but you did save him. Something you very much liked to bring up, even after returning to Mondstadt. He couldn’t necessarily push you away and despite leaving the Knights of Favonius, he still maintained the same chivalry that all knights had.

From then on it had just been the two of you, him looking for the next Fatui base while you travelled with him as an “observer” despite helping him and being overly chatty. Asking where the next destination is like you’re some sort of overeager kid. At first, he really disliked your presence. A lot. In his mind you were a second Kaeya and after the events of what had happened, he might have been far colder to you than he should have been. He thought you were hiding behind the same kind of mask Kaeya did and that you were secretly some Fatui agent sent to kill him. But that never seemed to deter you, even making fun of the idea that the Fatui would seriously try and send an agent to con him rather than try and kill him outright with all the information he had on them.

You both had your clashes when it came to certain things, especially when it came to taking breaks and sightseeing. He felt that you were way too relaxed for something so important and you felt he was way to uptight and needed to stop running through life. But overtime, he found that he actually somewhat enjoyed your personality and quirks. While you could kick a Fatui’s guard head off if you tried hard enough, you would also drag him to feed the ducks by a pond. He had come to learn that you and Kaeya were different, you didn’t wear a mask and bared your heart to the world. He thought you were a bit foolish for doing that since you can never really trust anyone but you instead offered that not everyone was a bad person, that if he spent every waking moment trying to backstab someone would that really be a life worth living?

It’s during the lantern festival in Liyue does he really come to understand his goals in life. Writing down wishes for the new year to send off in paper lanterns is when he acknowledges his shortcomings and finally agrees to join the underground intelligence network. You offer him a bright grin as you cheer that he finally finally got off his stubborn self and you’re now officially partners in not-really-but-still-technically crime. For the first time since Diluc started his journey, he gives a small smile and let’s himself relax as he watched the golden lanterns fly through the sky beside you.

When he decides it’s time to return to Mondstadt and take up his position as Diluc Ragnvindr, he tries to not so subtly ask if you would want to join him. He knows that you still have ties to that secret organization and you probably have your own agenda but Diluc has gotten used to your bubbly personality, he doesn’t want to live without you. But his worries are quickly squashed when you tease him for a bit but slip your hand in his and ask where the next destination is. 

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Gripping my writing hand, I went overboard and ran with it. I really want to write pre-hcs of how you met Xiao and a continuation of young Diluc and you. But I must finish my inbox.  Also my joke of Xiao beating things into submission started all the way back to my first Xiao HCs of friendship. I did not know this lol. I just think it’s funny to imagine xiao doing it. I’m about to high five my past self.

By the way, should I break up my hcs more? I feel like they are actual paragraphs and that might be annoying to read.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Thirty-five: Hell and You

soulmate au Choso x Reader

Warnings: not sfw. fluff and smut. implied virginity loss. Fingering, missionary, multiple orgasms. Some angst towards the end. Reader is afab but they/them pronouns are used for them

Synopsis: ngl i just wanted an excuse to write smut

a/n: if you wish to skip any of the sexually explicit content in this chapter, skip everything past the initial conversation with Tengen. but, lets face it, the smut is probably what you've been waiting for

word count: 3.5k

prev - next

masterlist

"So you think Kenjaku has sorcerers outside the barriers forcing more players in?" Asks Tengen. 

He joins you at the kotatsu, sitting with his legs crossed. Tengen sets down two cups, each made of fine white porcelain. He only fills yours halfway, while filling his own completely. Steam curls from the amber colored liquid. 

"I've seen them," you say, "one tried with me. Didn't end very well for him, though."

You bring the cup to your lips, and let the scalding liquid pour over your tongue. It could be much improved with a bit of sugar, and milk, you think. The heat sleeps through the ceramic, and into your hands, almost painfully so. Tengen's expression is hard to read. Maybe it's his face. Whether he looks at you with pity, or something else entirely is a mystery to you.

“Like I said, I haven't had contact with anyone within the barriers,” you say, “all I know is what I was told before they entered. There's a plan to free Gojo, and find Angel, which involves adding in new rules: one to exchange points between players, one to establish contact with other players, one to allow travel between barriers, and another to get unwilling players out of the game. But I can't tell you how well this is going."

Tengen brings his cup of tea to his mouth and takes a sip. The mug is comically tiny when compared to his face. You expect him to say something. Anything. But he stares at you as if he expects you to continue speaking.

"My brother wants to put in place an extra rule: one where two people joined by the string of fate are counted as civilians, and allowed to leave. If he does that, then at least Fushiguro and Itadori will have a way out." You say. “But with his cursed technique, he could free others too.” 

You sincerely doubt he will. But he could, if he so pleased.

"And you?" He asks.

Well, for starters, your own brother threatened to murder you if you enter the game. You're waiting for something. Something that may never happen.

“I go where I’m needed,” you say. “Wherever that may be.”

Much to your surprise, he accepts this as an answer. He pours more tea into your cup, filling it halfway yet again.

"I advise against traveling in and out of my barrier." Tengen says. "If you're here, I'd prefer you be here to stay."

You want to stay with Choso. But what if you're needed at the school? Cold fingers of fear climb up your spine. Not knowing what will happen isn't what scares you; it's knowing what will, and not being powerless to stop it.

"You think he's going to attack this place?" You ask. “Kenjaku I mean.”

"I don't think such a thing is entirely off the table." Tengen says, leaning back in his seat. "But I believe has more planned before he will make his move."

That doesn't make you feel better. With one swig, you finish the last of your tea.

"If Kenjaku isn't the game master, who is?" You ask. "And would killing him end this game?"

… 

Choso lays beside you on the bed. You can hear his breathing, but it's too dark to see him. He kneads your thighs like a baker kneads his dough. Soft, steady. The warmth of your skin leeches into his hands.

You can't bring yourself to sleep. The action of shutting your eyes, and forcing your thoughts to stop seems like an impossible task. So you don't bother trying.

If Choso does notice this, then he never mentions it. You can feel the weight of his body beside yours, leaving a dip in the mattress which you lean into. His chest rises and falls with each breath. Each of which is so slow you're certain he's asleep, but the firm hands on your skin tell you otherwise. He can't sleep either.

You roll over onto your back, folding your arm behind your head. Choso props himself up on his elbows. He hums, as if he’s asking “what’s the matter?”

"If we're going to take down Kenjaku, we need Geto's help," you say. "Or at least that's what it sounds like,

"He's still alive up there. That's what James was saying, at least. Something about his soul still being tied to his body…

"It's a bit of a catch 22 though. To free Gojo, we need Geto. But to bring Geto back, we need Gojo."

You hate this. You hate having to be so reliant on others. But there's no way someone like you could fix a mess like this on their own.

“What about your brother?” Asks Choso.

Your stomach seems to twist itself into a knot. Nausea rolls over you like a wave. “He's in one of the barriers right now.” You say. Fighting in the culling game. Probably regretting his decision right about now, if you had to guess.

He wouldn't do such a thing to be selfless. James has an ulterior motive. There's something in it for him, whatever that may be. Or maybe this is just the worlds longest, most drawn out suicide note.

That's what bothers you the most. James threw himself into his almost certain death, and you don't even know why. And the thought fills you with a cold, silent terror.

You sit up. Solely because you don't know what else to do, yet you’re filled with the need to do something.

Choso’s lips brush across your bare shoulder, where your shirt collar has slipped off, and down your arm. This time you’re the one to kiss him. Roughly. It feels like fight or flight has kicked in. Your movements are nothing short of desperate, and Choso seems to notice this, acting as a rock for you to cling onto.

When you pull away, a line of saliva connects your lips. His hands are cupping your cheeks so gently, it's as if he fears you’ll break. And you're practically melting into his touch. So warm and responsive under him. So human. He leans back down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you feel as if you could combust. There's a heat that accompanies this kiss. Warmth spreads from the center of your body outwards.

You’re trembling. You can't help it, he just smells nice, and feels good in your hands. You want to bury your face in his chest. You wish to be closer to him than you do any other human being. To intertwine your limbs with his until there's no telling where your body ends and his begins.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I don't know,” you say meekly. “Do you want me to stop?”

He shakes his head. A lock of hair falls from behind his ear, which you tuck back behind it. You kiss him again, your arms wrapping around his neck, knee gently nudging his thighs apart. And he complies, body reacting to yours. So pliant and responsive under  yours.

“Do you want to…” your voice stops in your throat with a squeak.

“Do I want to what?” He asks.

“Do you want to have sex,” you say, nearly choking on your words, “with me?”

And you swear you can hear your own heart beating. Racing. Like it wants to jump out of your chest. The room is so silent all you can hear is a slight ringing in your ears—you never get true silence anymore.

"Yes," he says softly, "but- I'm not sure what to do-"

"Do you want me to take the lead?" You ask.

He nods, pulling away for a moment. Your heart is racing. So fast you’re certain it's going to leap out of your chest.

It's not like you haven't watched porn. Or, in one particularly awkward case, opened your brother's laptop without giving him a chance to close the tab that was open. Growing up with pretty much unrestricted access to the internet will do that to a person. You've seen some… things. You know what happens. Vaguely. But porn is a lot different from the real thing.

He coaxes your—his—shirt over your head, eyes widening at the sight of your bare breasts. Your nipples harden when exposed to the open air. Choso has never seen a more beautiful sight.

Your arms move to cross in front of your chest—mostly out of embarrassment. It's not that he hasn't seen you naked before, but something about this context makes you want to shrivel and hide. Choso is having none of that; large hands wrapping around your wrists, gently guiding your arms away. His eyes trail down your body; the soft curves, and hard planes of muscles. Your calloused hands, and scars. He lingers particularly long on the one on your shoulder, thumb brushing across it. He leans down to press his lips to it, trailing soft kisses up your collarbone, then your neck.

Choso slides your shorts down your hips slowly, sliding the soft fabric down your body as if he’s savoring the action of undressing you. Your hands slide under his shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach and chest. His body is cool to the touch. Mahito does have taste, you think. If this situation were any different, you’d be embarrassed at how long your gaze lingers on him. Not now. Not when it's just you, and him.

You sit with his chest to your back, your legs splayed across either side of his lap. Though you can't see his face, you know it's red, as his hardened cock presses against your ass.

"Use your hand," you say, your fingers lacing with his, "I'll guide you through it."

This feels lewd. Blood has risen to the surface of your skin, turning your face, ears, and neck warm. He lets out a soft gasp as you guide his hand to your clit. Aren't you supposed to be the one making that noise?

"You're wet," he says, shyly.

"Yeah," you say, "that's supposed to happen."

“I just… have hardly touched you,” he says, “and you're so…”

You widen your legs a bit, a silent invitation to him. His lips find your neck, pressing soft kisses to it, and nipping the sensitive skin. Choso likes the noises you make when he touches you here. His middle and ring fingers draw lazy circles around your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your spine.

"Here-" you say, "that's-"

"Is that right?" He asks. Though there's no hint of smugness to his voice. He's genuinely asking.

"Yes," you say. If you were facing the other way, you'd bury your face in his chest. "There!"

Instead, your head rolls back against his shoulder. His free hand greedily palms at your breast, kneading the soft flesh. He draws slow, lazy circles around your clit, drawing quiet moans from you. You're trying to be quiet, he notes. Not that there's anyone around to hear you. Except Tengen—who may or may not know exactly what you’re doing right now. But you don't want to think about that.

If he moved down a bit, his fingers would be pressing right into your cunt. You're very warm. Warmer here, than the rest of your body. He tests the waters, working lower, stroking your clit with his thumb, pressing one finger into your entrance. A set of dark eyes remain glued to you, searching for any sign of discomfort. Choso adds a second, his pointer and ring finger now stuffed inside you, down to the second knuckle. And all he can think about is how much he wants to bury himself in the warm spot between your legs.

"Choso!" You gasp out his name, with no thought behind the reason why.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asks.

"No!" You say, almost too eagerly. "No- it just- feels nice. Don't stop."

And he doesn't, bringing you to your peak, and then some. But you never tell him to stop. And he continues to work you through your orgasm, letting you clench around his fingers. It's not until overstimulation registers in your lust-addled mind that you push his hand away.

Choso lets you lay limp in his lap. Exhaustion sets in slowly. It could be hours, or even mere minutes that you lay there. If allowed, you’re certain you could fall asleep then and there. 

Choso’s erection presses against your back, straining against the confines of his pants. You’re neglecting him.

Stretching, you lean back to look at him. Your faces are mere inches from one another. He kisses you again, shamelessly giving your breast a squeeze. Heat blooms in your chest. You love him so dearly. So horribly it makes your chest ache.

"I-" you pause. "I guess I'll ride you. If that's alright?"

Choso nods, feeling his throat has gone dry. He misses the warmth of your body the moment you pull away, moving to sit on your knees.

His hands find your hips, guiding you to straddle him. Your fingers press under the waistband of his pants, tugging them down slightly. His cock springs free. The soft hair that trails down his stomach, to the base of his shaft, is dark and unruly. A bead of precum collects at the head.

He's… big. Not that you have a whole lot to compare him to, but this seems larger than average. No matter how much you try to act calm and collected, you’re far from it. One wrong move and you’ll find yourself unraveling like a spool of twine. Your eyes shut as you take a few breaths to calm yourself. This is a lot harder with him watching you. 

"Is something wrong?" He asks.

"No," you say, swallowing hard, "you're just… big." Bigger than you expected. Not that you've given this much thought!

His cool hands find yours, your fingers lacing with his. It does little to stop them from trembling. Choso gives your hands a reassuring squeeze. 

"Do you want me to be on top?" He asks.

You nod.

With one hand on your lower back, Choso guides you to lay down, lifting your hips just enough to slide a pillow under them. “I saw this in one of Mahito’s magazines.” He says. “He had lots of them.”

And you’re not certain you could look any more embarrassed; one hand gripping the pillow behind your head, the other covering your mouth, legs splayed wide enough to allow Choso to kneel between them. 

“Is this alright?” He asks, hands squeezing your hips, the tip of him barely touching your slick sex.

Again, you nod. Nervous sweat leaves your palms damp. You find yourself relieved he’s not holding your hands anymore, for fear that you’ll gross him out with this.

He presses into you. Slowly. Achingly slowly. There's a slight sting. It hurts less than you expected. You let out a whimper, digging your nails into your palm so hard they leave little crescent shaped indents.

"Does that hurt?” He asks. You’re making noises like you’re in pain.

"Hrngh- yeah," you say, "feels good. Don't stop."

With one final movement, he sheathes himself fully. You watch as his pupils shrink into pinpricks. Choso shudders, before resting his body weight against you, chest pressed against chest. Like the strength has been completely sapped from him.

“You can-” you say between breaths, “move now. Please.” 

“I can't.” He says.

“Why not?!”

“‘M gonna,” his eyes widen, and he looks down as if to confirm if he’s cum or not. He hasn't. It's the slick from your cunt, mixing with his precum, nearly dripping down your thighs.

There's really no pattern or consistency to his thrusts, but that doesn't seem to matter. In mere seconds you’re both reduced to sweaty, gasping messes. Hungry flesh reaching out for hungry flesh. His lips find the corner of your jaw, then your neck, then one of your nipples. Now you understand it. Why all those women in porn scream like they’re having their organs rearranged. 

His free hand—the one that's not currently planted above your head—traces down your side, before stopping at your mound. You feel yourself throb around him. Choso makes a noise as if he’s felt this too, a noise like he’s choking. His thumb finds your poor, swollen clit, dragging across it.

The relentless stroking of his thumb brings you to—and through—your second orgasm. He’s not far behind. 

Choso’s face is red, and his neck is white; his thrusts growing sloppier as he nears his own release. With a shudder, and a groan, he spills into your unprotected womb.

His head falls into the crook of your neck, his hands finding yours. He pulls out. Slowly. Trying his best not to make more of a mess. 

He came inside. Panic leaves your chest feeling cold. You didn't use protection.

But really, you've been under so much stress these past few months that you haven't even had your period. And until this mess is over, you're assuming things will stay that way.

You're too tired to even sleep. To shut your eyes. To force your thoughts to stop. There's a lot that doesn't bear worrying about. You lie in bed, pretending to sleep. Choso's breathing is so quiet you fear he has fallen asleep. But he hasn't. He's on his side, one eye open, gazing at your still form. The heavy shadows left by the low light leave his eyes looking sunken, and shadows beneath his cheekbones. His hair has fallen out of its twin buns, loosely framing his face.

You are what makes Choso human.

“I want a family with you.” He says.

If a year ago he had said that to you, you would have laughed in his face. Even now, such a statement sends a cold feeling through your chest. Back then, you claimed you were too selfish for children; that you valued your youth, money and freedom far too much. And you still view that as the truth. People—mainly your mother—told you that you would grow more patient and selfless with age. But really, it feels like the opposite has happened. The older you grew, the more you realized that having children was expected of you. That those who made the choice not to were often viewed by society as lesser, yet those who decided too, were miserable. Being alone, but happy was viewed as some great sin, and being together, but unhappy, was painted as the ideal. Misery must love company. Those expectations were never something you wanted. You simply wanted the freedom of choice.

You told yourself that if things were different, you may consider it. That if life were better, rent were cheaper, work paid more.

You are still selfish. And nothing has changed. Now, having a child brings on different connotations.

Choso isn't entirely human—not by jujutsu society standards. What if your child is a sorcerer? What if your child is born part curse? What if your child isn't even human at all, and somehow it manages to kill you before it's even left the womb?

He can feel your trembling form next to him. Your voice shakes as you inhale. “Do you know what will happen when that child is born part curse, part human?” You ask. “Satoru Gojo, or whoever else is in charge will kill it! And then they will kill you for fathering it. And then they will kill me for allowing it to happen.”

You don't mean to get angry with him. You really don't. But there's no stopping it once it's started.

There must be a way to care for wounds without reopening them. But sometimes it feels like this wound existed long before you, and you were made to embody it.

“I do not need children to be happy,” he says. His voice is stern, but not angry. “Don't get me wrong—I would like them. I would really, really like them. But at the end of the day, it is your choice.”

The dam has broke. Hot tears are spilling over your lash line, down your cheeks. Your sobs are the next to follow. Quiet, choked breaths leave you. You do your best to try to stifle them, but the pot is boiling over. Weeks of pushing down your emotions leaves you too exhausted to stop them once they come back up.

You feel so small cradled against his chest like this. The muscles in his arms feel so solid against your body. He smooths a hand down your back, fingertips lightly brushing across your spine. To avoid having to look him in the eyes, you bury your face in his chest.

“I'm not mad at you!” You say between sobs. “I just don't think I can give you what you want!”

“And what is it you think I want?” He asks.

“A family.” You say. “You told me that.”

The pad of a rough thumb drags across your cheek, swiping through the trail of tears down your face. He laughs, softly. Something akin to sorrow clings to his voice.

“I don't need those things to live a fulfilling life,” he says. “All I need is you.”

[disturbedbydesign]

A Night At The Museum

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Length: 4K

Summary: Your job as a museum tour guide was growing tiresome until a mysterious stranger showed up to claim what was his.

Warnings: Dubcon (slight mind control), Violence (mild), Light Bondage, Explicit Sex (oral, vaginal). 18+ only, no minors.

_____________________________________________________________

Your last tour of the day was about to start and all you could think about was getting off work and meeting up with your sister for drinks. You had always dreamed of one day working at the British Museum, but having been a tour guide there for the past year—doing the same thing, so many times a day, every single day—you found yourself growing tired of it and anxious to move on. Much as you loved art history (you did go to school for it, after all), you had grown thoroughly bored with your job. You wanted some excitement in your life. You needed it.

When you first started, you had been one of the museum’s most enthusiastic guides, always trying to engage all the members of your groups and fielding even the strangest of questions with grace and ease. These days, you were just going through the motions, especially for tours this late in the day. Over the course of the year, you had become adept at instantly identifying the one or two people in any given group who actually cared about the subject matter, and you found it simpler to focus on them and ignore everyone else.

As you performed your perfunctory scan of the last group of the day, you saw the usual suspects: a group of unruly children with intentionally oblivious parents; a travel group of obnoxious middle-aged Americans; an older gentleman, alone, who looked like he could be a professor of some sort (he was the one to pay attention to); and a young couple, clearly on one of their first few dates, who would have eyes only for each other.

And then you saw him.

You were immediately taken aback, struck by the fact that, for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t get a read on someone. The man was tall—really tall—with long, black hair slicked back. His skin was almost inhumanly pale and smooth, like he was sculpted of the same marble as the statues surrounding you. Despite the summer heat, the mysterious man wore a black suit and tie, a white dress shirt, and a long black coat with a scarf. He carried an ornately crafted cane, which seemed more an accessory than a walking aid. Compared to the rest of your tour group, he seemed a man out of time.

And then you saw his eyes—his impossibly green eyes. You could see them from across the room, almost glowing and staring at you, unblinking. your breath caught in your throat and all of a sudden you felt very, very cold.

As the hour-long tour progressed, you went through your practiced speeches about each artifact, moving across the room in the pre-established order and fielding questions here and there. As anticipated, the older gentleman was very engaged in the tour and asked intelligent questions, which you happily answered. Also unsurprisingly, one of the loudest Americans (probably trying to impress his friends) kept asking questions that he thought would make him sound smart and cultured but which, in reality, had the opposite effect. After one particularly ridiculous question, you had to turn your head away, pretending to be thinking about the answer but really trying not to laugh. That’s when you got caught in the emerald stare of the mysterious man with the cane.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire tour—hadn’t so much as glanced at any of the art that he was ostensibly there to see—and up until then you had done your best to avoid meeting his gaze. Something about him absolutely terrified you, although you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly you were frightened of. He was standing completely still at the back of the group, but he was so tall that he towered over everyone and you could see his face as clear as if he were right in front of you.

His piercing eyes were locked onto you; they moved where you moved. His gaze was intense and menacing, but it was more than that: you could physically feel his eyes on you, penetrating you all over, making you feel naked. You wanted to look away but you felt like some strange power was holding your eyes onto to his. You stood dumbfounded and locked in a silent stare with the dark-haired stranger until the loud American spoke up, demanding an answer to his previous inquiry. You had never in your life been so happy to answer a stupid question.

You managed to make it through the rest of the tour without meeting eyes with the man with the cane, although there wasn’t one second that went by when you didn’t feel his presence in the room. You even went so far as to forgo asking if anyone had any final questions at the end that they wanted to stay after and discuss with you. You ducked out of the exhibit hall as fast as you could, feeling the man’s gaze boring into your backside as you exited the room, and headed for the staff room to gather your things. You didn’t notice until you got to the employee lounge that you had been holding your breath the whole time.

The museum was officially closed for the day, and as you left the staff area you couldn’t help but notice that the usual security guards posted around the building were nowhere to be found. In fact, there was no one around at all. The main lights were dimmed and the place was impossibly silent; the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps as you quickly made your way across the building to the exit. You were rounding a darkened corner when you felt an ice-cold hand reach around from behind and clamp over your mouth.

“Don’t be afraid,” hissed a smooth voice in the darkness. “You’re going to like what comes next.”

Before you could think to cry out, you were spun around and face to face with the dark-haired man. He wore the devil’s grin as he leaned down to you, his face barely an inch from your own. One hand still clamped firmly across your mouth, he brought his cane up with the other and traced a gentle line down from your temple to your chin. He let the tip rest under your jaw, pressing in on your throat just a little too hard. He put his lips to your ear and whispered, “Come with me, my pet.”

In one swift motion, he swung you up and over his shoulder and held you there with one arm, the other arm brandishing the cane, which clicked rhythmically against the marble floor, keeping time with his long strides. You were still dazed and breathless from the force of the cane’s tip on your throat and before you knew it, you found yourself in some dark recess of the museum basement, on the floor of a room you hadn’t even known existed. It was filled with strange artifacts the likes of which you had never seen in your extensive studies. There were no lights on but the room was bathed in an eerie shade of blue, which seemed to emanate from the relics themselves. You managed to mumble out a few words.

“Where am I?”

You saw the cane flip once in his hand as he strode toward you and then felt only searing pain as it came crashing across the side of your face.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked.

You brought your hand to your cheek where he’d struck you, expecting to feel a bloodied gash, but when you took your hand away and looked there was nothing. The blow had left no physical mark, only an icy hot streak of pain. He reached down and traced the line of his blow with a long delicate finger, and suddenly the pain was gone and replaced with a pleasurable tingle.

“As you see, I can inflict both pain and pleasure,” he said, his voice like honey. “What happens next is entirely up to you.”

You should have been terrified, screaming, looking for some outlet or escape, but you found yourself completely paralyzed by his gaze. Going against every survival instinct screaming inside of you, you dared speak again.

“Please… please just tell me who you are and what you want.”

You closed your eyes and braced yourself for another blow but it did not come. You glanced up to see him looking at you inquisitively from the corner of the room, resting his long, lean frame on the tip of his cane.

“You are a bold one, I see. Deserving of my punishment, yes, but also worthy of the pleasure I can give you. I am going to ask you three questions and you are going to answer them honestly. If you lie, I will know, and you will suffer for it. Now tell me, do I frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“Do I excite you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to leave? And before you answer this last and most important question, know this: If you say yes, I will let you go. I will not harm you. I will not follow you. You will never see me again. But you will also never know who I am or what I am here for, the memory of this night will haunt your dreams forever, and no one will ever believe your story. Within a week, you will go mad wondering whether I was a dream or reality.”

In one seamless motion, he crossed the room and yanked you to your feet by your shoulders, holding you an inch from his face, which seemed to glow with its own light.

“Now answer the question. Do you want to leave?”

The final answer flew from your lips before you even knew what you were saying. “No,” you whispered, and he eased his harsh grip on your shoulders, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

You stared at him, motionless and feeling almost paralyzed as you waited for permission to speak.

“Well,” he began, “I suppose it’s only fair that I offer you the same courtesy you have allowed me, so you may ask me three questions and I will answer them honestly. Choose your words carefully, because you get only three.”

He released his grip on you and returned to the corner, watching you and waiting.

“Who… who are you?” you stammered.

“Ah, a good question and excellently phrased. Had you asked just my name, that is all you would have received. But who I am is much more complicated.”

He sauntered toward you and lifted his cane, pointing it in a sweeping circle around the room.

“You see these things here? I am not so different—I was just another stolen relic from another world, locked away until someone might have use of me. But I have broken free of my shackles, and I have come to claim what is mine. You as who I am? I am a God. I am your God.”

You should have thought him completely mad, but you believed him. For whatever reason, you believed him.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He shook his head and chuckled low. “That’s far too vague a question, my pet, for I want many things. I could tell you simply that I want a glass of water, and I would not be lying. But since you are such an exquisite creature and so well behaved, I will answer the question you meant to ask, which is what is my purpose here.”

Something was happening to you, something strange and terrifying and wonderful. You were mesmerized by the way he spoke and the way his long, cold fingers brushed your cheek when he had called you exquisite. You hung on his every word and could not take your eyes off of him.

“I am Loki of Asgard and I have come to reclaim what was stolen from me. This room holds all that I need to take my rightful place as your master and overlord—to claim humanity as my own and rule the people of Earth as your king.”

You searched your racing mind for the words needed to get the answer you so desperately wanted, but your brain would not cooperate.

“One last question, my pet. And don’t keep me waiting.”

Finally, the words come to you in the correct order. “Why have you chosen me?”

Loki smiled lasciviously down at you. “I could tell just by looking at you that you crave subjugation,” he said, his voice smooth and so deep you felt it everywhere. “You were made to be ruled, and you will be the first to kneel for me.”

In a flash he was on you, grabbing your hair hard and pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips felt ice cold but his breath was hot and moist as his tongue twined around yours. You raised your hands to run them through his hair when he abruptly pulled back and caught you by the wrists. He spun you around and bound your arms behind your back with his scarf, pushing you to your knees once he had secured you.

“I told you to kneel,” he growled.

He was behind you and you could hear his ragged breathing, the rustling of clothes, and the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor. When he spun you back around, he was completely naked and you drank in the sight of his pale skin and lean, powerful body. His cock was enormous and rock hard.

“Pleasure me, my pet. I know this is what you crave.”

He grabbed you by the hair and shoved the whole length of his shaft down your throat repeatedly, fucking your face until you almost passed out for lack of air. When you thought you could take no more, he yanked you off of him, tilting your head back and looking down at you with glowing green eyes.

“Very good, my pet. Now slower. Worship it as you will worship me.”

He grabbed the base of his cock, holding it at an angle above your face and willing you to lick it. You complied, running your tongue slowly from the base to the tip, feeling his blood throbbing in the veins that ran the length of his massive shaft; the blood was hot but the flesh was icy cold—a very strange sensation, but one that fascinated you. He let out a series of short, carnal grunts as you swirled the tip of your tongue around his head. You took just the tip into your mouth and began to massage it gently with your lips as he ran his hand lightly up and down his shaft. You could taste his leaking juices as you tongued the slit, and the taste of him was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—it was delicious, addictive even, and it made you insatiable and impossibly wet. You moaned onto his cock as you let it drip down your throat, sending vibrations of pleasure running through his entire godly frame and causing him to groan in ecstasy.

Before you knew it, you were on your feet and your wrists were freed from the scarf that bound them. Holding the scarf between gritted teeth, he ripped your blouse open and straight off your body. He cupped and squeezed your breasts in his icy hands, and your already hard nipples became almost unbearably erect against the lace fabric of your bra. He unclasped it and let it fall to the floor next to you as he yanked your skirt down around your ankles. One hand cradled the back of your neck and he let the other trace a line in between your breasts and down your stomach. When he reached the top of your thong, just above your mound, he stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat and you looked at him. He took the scarf from between his teeth.

“Turn around,” Loki commanded.

You did as you were told and he brought the scarf around your head, blindfolding you. You felt his strong arms lift you up and moments later you were bent over a cold metal table, facedown and arms over your head, gripping the steel. You felt his breath on your pebbled skin as he ripped your thong off your body with his teeth, and he pushed your legs wider apart with his knee as he traced down the length of your spine with two fingers. When he found your entrance, you were already soaked for him—an almost unnatural level of wetness that you’d never felt before in your entire life—and he plunged two long fingers deep inside you without ceremony. You cried out your pleasure as he moved them furiously in and out of you before he slowed and found your sweet spot with his middle finger, working it violently until he started to feel your walls tighten around him and your cries faded to jagged breaths. He stopped just before you found release and you whined loudly.

“You are ready,” he said—telling you not asking you. “Now we shall see where your loyalty lies.”

You were left wanting and stranded on the verge, and the absence of sight heightened all your other senses. Every inch of your body was buzzing and the sound of your own heart beating was deafening in the silent room. That’s when you heard the rhythmic clicking of the cane moving slowly toward you and then stop.

“Who is your God?” Loki asked, his voice cold and commanding.

“You,” you wailed. “You are my God.”

He brought the cane down across your bare ass with all the power of Asgard and you screamed out in delicious agony.

“I said, WHO IS YOUR GOD?”

You tried to answer but your mind could not form words. He brought the cane down on you again, three hard lashes in quick succession, and you made a noise that sounded inhuman in your own ears.

“I’ll ask you one more time: who is your God and your King?”

The sensations coursing through your body threatened to put you over the edge of consciousness, but somehow you managed to yell out to him through the haze of pain and pleasure.

“LOKI! Loki of Asgard is my God and my King!”

He laughed maniacally and you could hear the clatter of the cane dropping to the floor. You felt his magic fingers trace a line across the searing flesh of your ass and the white-hot agony turned instantly to a pleasure unlike any you had ever known. You almost achieved release just from his touch. He untied the blindfold and he rolled you over on your back, pulling you up to face him. His eyes seemed warmer as he leaned in and grazed your ear with his lips as he spoke.

“You have proven your loyalty to me, my pet. I know that you will worship me as I deserve. Now you will be rewarded.”

He stood between your legs and cupped your face in his hands as he kissed you slowly and deeply, more passionately than he had before. For the first time, when you went to touch him, he didn’t try to stop you. At last, your hands found his long black hair and you grabbed fistfuls of it as you pulled him down on top of you, the tip of his cock teasing your opening as you devoured each other. He pulled his face away and buried it in between your breasts as he massaged them, taking one nipple in his mouth and nibbling it lightly as he rubbed the other between two fingers. Every flick of his finger or tongue on your body dragged a sound out of you that you didn’t know you could make. You untangled one hand from his hair and found his massive cock, gripping it firmly and stroking it up and down as you rubbed it against your clit.

“Fuck me, my King. I beg you. Take me any way you want me.”

He lifted his mouth from your breast. “Not so fast, my pet. I must taste you first.”

He pulled you down to the edge of the table and threw your legs over his shoulders as he settled between your legs. He licked you slowly up and down a few times before latching onto your clit, holding your hips firm as he swirled the tip of his tongue around and around, faster and faster until you started to cry out and buck against him. He brought a hand down from your hip and teased your slick folds with one long finger as he continued to work your clit with his tongue and his lips. He brought another finger to your entrance, sliding the two fingers together from the top of your folds to the bottom, and when he plunged both fingers inside you, you came so hard you nearly fainted. His touch was godly, and you knew then he had ruined you for all mortal men.

You had barely recovered from your climax when he sat you up and took you all at once, shoving his cock inside you to the hilt, filling you with ice and fire. He grunted like an animal with each forceful thrust and you screamed with pleasure as you clawed at his back. Your hands found his muscular ass and you gripped it tightly as you screamed his name, keeping time with his rhythm.

“Loki… Loki… My God… My King...”

You brought your arms up around his neck as he lifted you off the table, his strong hands gripping your ass as he walked you over to the side of the room. You clung to him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your arms at his neck as he fucked you senseless against the cold basement wall. The light of the otherworldly artifacts tinted his skin an inhuman shade of blue; it was beautiful, he was beautiful. He quickened his pace and then stopped, remaining motionless with the full length of him still throbbing inside of you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered. “Such a good little pet. I think maybe I’ll keep you.”

He walked you back over to the table and laid himself down on it so that you were straddling him. You moved up and down on his cock slowly, almost teasingly, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of you. As you rocked up and down, he brought his cold thumb to your clit, circling it while you rode him and bringing you close to the edge again. He began to buck underneath you as you fucked him and you knew he was close, too. You leaned in and grabbed the hair at the back of his head as you continued to slam yourself onto on him.

The words fell from your lips—“Fill me with your God seed, my King, I want every last drop you have”—and even as you said them, you had no idea where they came from, almost as if they were planted there and forced from you.

That had Loki’s eyes rolling back in his head and he moaned deep as he sat up, grabbing your hips as you rocked back and forth on his lap. He tightened his grip on you and quickened his pace, pounding into you hard and fast. As the muscles of your tight walls rippled with pleasure and you cried out your reverence in his ear, Loki found his release. He held your squirming body tight against him, your muscles shaking uncontrollably as he came roaring into you. You felt his warmth spread inside of you—such a contrast to the chill of his flesh—and you stayed locked in his embrace, completely limp with exhaustion.

“Thank you, my King,” you whispered, and Loki brought his fingers to your face.

The last thing you remember is two cool fingertips pressed to your temple. When you awoke, you were naked and alone in the basement room. The artifacts that had filled the room were now gone and there was no sign of Loki but for a pile of clothing next to you on the table—new clothes to replace the ones he had destroyed in his lust—and a handwritten note that said only “Fit for a Queen.” You put them on, wondering if he would ever be back for you. You were nothing now without your king. You knew you were made to be ruled.

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

[skywardscroll]

the language of love

✧ summary: mondstadt boys (diluc, kaeya, albedo, & venti) and their love languages.

✧ warnings: mention of death & depression in Venti’s. gender neutral reader!

✧ a/n: my first headcanon post! it’s p cute, me thinks :D <3 hope you all like it!!

Love Language: gift giving

✧ Diluc was a mysterious man. Though you two were an item for a long while now, you were still finding out new things about him every day.

✧ In the last week, you found out that when he piles up his parchment, he preferred it the be placed longways, rather than vertical, on the edge of his desk, and that he disliked white grape juice, but loved red grape juice.

✧ Today, which was valentine’s day, you learned that Diluc, though clueless on what to get most of the time, loved buying gifts.

✧ It was a sacred form of love to him, buying someone a gift. He only ever did it to people he really loved.

He stared at you silently in subdued anticipation. He spent a month searching for the perfect gift, getting council from various shopkeepers and friends, always thinking Maybe there’s something better. Diluc knew, deep down, that you would be happy with anything. You were always so gracious, never expecting anything and always being thankful for the small gifts Diluc would sometimes give you. He trusted that you understood that he was not the best at voicing his feelings, but that he felt he could properly show his love and feel loved in return when giving you gifts.

Tearing into the red wrapping paper (Lisa and Klee wrapped it for him!), you let out a small gasp at seeing the gift he bought for you.

The Shared Experience: A Poetry Collection was a collection you had your eyes on for a while. Diluc, not being one for flowery language like that, even found himself taken with the compilation with poetry from all over Teyvat. Somehow, these poets from Fontaine, Natlan, and the likes, had managed to put into words what he wished he could say to you.

It was the perfect Valentine’s present, which was only to be expected from Diluc, who used gifts to show his love.

Love language: words of affirmation

✧ Unlike his brother, Kaeya probably spent 80% of his time telling you how much he loved you, how pretty you were, and how lucky you were to have such a handsome boyfriend.

✧ (The last one always earned him a gentle fist to the arm and a groan of half-hearted disagreement from you. Totally worth it everytime. You’re so cute.)

✧ He holds you in such high regard, thinking you’re the better half of him.

✧ He fell in love with you because you brought out the best in him.

✧ You were always there to make him feel better when the stress of being a Knight got to him. Tonight was, sadly, one of those instances.

“Y/N?” His sweetened voice, which always seemed to lift your spirits, had an exhausted tone to it. And, considering how much he liked to talk, especially to you, you were able to pick up on this immediately.

“Kaeya? Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, instead just sitting beside you on your couch and laying his head in your lap, completely blocking your view of the book you were previously reading. Of course, you didn’t mind, though. You’d rather spend time with Kaeya anyway.

Truthfully, you had a feeling that something like this was coming. He’d been particularly busy during the week with hardly enough time to spend leisurely.

“You work so hard…” You sighed, running your fingers through his dark hair. You could feel his shoulders relax against your legs immediately as he laid in silence. “I’m so proud of all you do for Mondstadt. You are a true hero. I’m so lucky to call you mine.”

He didn’t say anything – no smart remarks, no smirking or joking. He just laid there with his eyes staring up at you.

He loved you. So much.

Love language: physical touch

✧ Frankly, it surprised you how often Albedo just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

✧ He’s reserved, you know, and he likes his space. PDA is certainly not his thing.

✧ But… At home is different.

✧ At home, he always requests to have your hand in his and he always wants to lay with you (though, this does conflict with his desire to work constantly.)

✧ But the feeling of your skin on his was just so fascinating.

It was the temperature difference; he was sure of it.

The warmth of your body compared to his, which was always on the cold side, made his heart flutter with… Something. Love, he hypothesized it was.

Actually, maybe it was just the feeling of your skin – Your skin, which was just so soft; so smooth and comforting against his calloused fingertips (the downside of being an artist.)

Speaking of which, you were painting again. He encouraged you to tap into your artistic side, even lending you his painting equipment. Though, he failed to foresee the frustration that came with it.

“Bedo… I can’t do this.” You whined, putting down the paintbrush before rubbing your tired eyes.

“You can. Here.” He came up from behind you, sliding his hands down your forearm until his hand encapsulated yours. He slowly lifted your hand, dragging the paintbrush in your grasp against the canvas. “Try doing small circles. It makes the texture look right.”

He didn’t want to let go, but he did. Seeing the blush against your supple cheeks made him smile.

Whatever the reason, there was one thing he wouldn’t question: His love for you.

Love language: acts of service

✧ It’s an unwritten rule of the Archons that you just don’t fall in love with the people you’ve sworn to protect.

✧ Venti knew it was foolish of him. You were a mortal, someone who would die  before he could even blink.

✧ But he couldn’t help but be enamored by you because, when his role as Archon became overwhelming, somehow you knew just what to do to help.

Stanley was in another fit of depression, Klee was moments away from accidentally burning down a building, and Anthony was in the fountain… again.

This week was just… A lot.

Venti wanted nothing more than to just sit underneath the Windrise tree with a bottle or two of wine and his lyre. He knew he had all eternity to do so, but after the week he’d had, he really needed to take a break.

You didn’t know of Venti’s… true nature yet. He knew it was wrong to keep it from you, but how was he to say ‘hey, you know Barbatos? Yeah, that’s me’ without sounding crazy?

The thing was: He didn’t need to tell you. Somehow, you just knew that he was going through a lot even without him saying so. And, still without your full understanding, you helped him in so many ways around Mondstadt on your good nature alone.

Today was exceptionally quiet, though. When you returned home and asked him how his day was, he could truthfully say that it was rather uneventful.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“Oh! Today, I happened to run into Klee before she burned down the pier. Apparently, it’s the second time she’s almost destroyed Mondstadt? I love her, but she’s such trouble sometimes.”

Venti hid his shock easily, as it was soon replaced with admiration and thankfulness for you.

“It’s a good thing you were there, then.” He spoke.