#as well as how limb differences will present in the multiple arms

[luboy7rt]

How Team GHOST Would React To You Being Brainwashed (Headcanons) (GN reader) (Elias, Hesh, Logan, Merrick, Keegan and Kick and Riley)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?)

(Reader is in the infirmary after the Federation brainwashed you, after months of not seeing you, how would characters react to you being so different)

Elias Walker:

- Elias went silent as he sat in your infirmary room, his arms crossed firmly. Elias is a hit..  saddened, he knew Rorke before he got brainwashed.. he never wanted it to happen to someone he knew so well, someone he cherished.

- Elias stares into your dull eyes as he sat next to you, his jaw subtly clenched as he would force himself to give you a reassuring smile.

- Elias would talk, talk a lot despite the fact he never talked much, he would catch you up on everything and anything, telling you stories about the memories You have shared together that you might have been brainwashed to forget.

- Elias would simply spend time with you, your body chained down due to your Brainwashed state, but.. Elias wasn't able to ‘get over’ it, like he did with Rorke, He wasn't able to not visit you. He had a chance to help you, he was willing to spend his time doing so. He never got the chance to help Rorke, he regretted not trying more to save the man in the past… But the past was the past and you were his future, you were more important and the current, he decided to focus on the present.

- Elias would pull up your covers if you weren't able to or didn't/couldn't move due to your brainwashed state. Elias would personally care for you, and when he couldn't he ensured it was a trusted friend, teammate or medic to care for you.

- Elias would give you headpats, he gently murmurs when you flinch back due to the trauma you have experienced by being Brainwashed and tortured by the Federation. Elias would respect your space but also wants to gently get used to his touch again.

- He would read You stories, his voice is great for it. (If you are his child, or if he raised you it's because he wants to remember the good times… and make you remember that he's here. or He would hum a soft song he hummed to you when you were very young or maybe humming a song Ms Walker would always hum before she passed) Elias would even read out loud or hum gently even if you are sleeping, he saves the stories about Team Ghosts and stories about you, or the others for when you are awake and ‘listening’.

- Elias would be there for physical therapy, every moment, whenever you needed help but couldn't voice it. Elias would be there, and he gets really good at just guessing what you needed.

- Elias wants to be the first person you see in the day, not a medic, despite the fact he knows you have false memories, or your memories were messed with, he wanted that trust you once had for him, he wants you to understand you were safe with him.

- Elias gives you a forehead kiss when he arrives to your side and one before he leaves, just to make a habit form so you can expect affection from him or if you're not that close he would pat your head instead.

David ‘Hesh’ Walker:

- Hesh falls asleep on the infirmary bed next to you every night, emotionally exhausted as you were the first experience of someone he knew so well being brainwashed. Hesh would refuse to leave your side, willing to stay put until he knows you are aware again.

- He does cry when he gets frustrated, knowing you were in pain, knowing he couldn't help.. knowing your memories were messed with, he tries to hide it, but his hand is tightly holding yours. He's on his knees by your infirmary bed, his face buried into the mattress as he murmurs ‘I got you’, ‘you'll be alright’ multiple times over and over again.

- Hesh tries to encourage you, to get up.. to move about a tiny bit.. to strengthen your limbs once again. Hesh takes you walking around the base when you are mentally aware enough to not attack him or others.

- His hands gently clasped around yours, after days of ‘waiting’ for something.. anything from you. Hesh began speaking to you, rambling on about any topic he could think of. Trying to comfort you so he talks about any topic that you had brought up to him before you went missing, it could be about a hobby you were telling him about or a story, or anything. He remembers, and will remember for you until you could hold onto the memories again.

- Hesh usually re-does your bandages, ensuring your wounds are disinfected and bandaged in clean bandages. He asked a medic to show him the ‘right way’, (he knew how to do this already, but asked the medic anyway to ensure he did it right). Hesh does this so you can get used to his touch once again, he flinches when you flinch at his touch because he isn't used to you flinching because of him.

- Hesh sneaks in your favorite snacks for you, despite the fact you weren't supposed to eat it, but he did sneak it in for a bed-time snack, trying to coax you with your favorite snack, so maybe it would trigger the memories of all the nice times you both have shared over snacks.

- He watches movies with you, Hesh didn't really care he was uncomfortably curled up in the chair next to your infirmary bed, ends up with Riley on his lap so you three could watch movies together while you recover.

- He tends to get frustrated and cry, but only a tiny bit, a few tears slipping from his eyes when he watches you, his heart hurt for you. Of course, he has seen a lot in his time as a soldier, he lost many friends, but he hadn't ‘lost’ someone like this before. He wanted to protect You but he couldn't figure out how.

Logan Walker:

- Logan didn't react much physically to the news you were back at base, back in the infirmary. He was told what had happened to you.. But he didn't visit at first, letting the rest of the Ghosts members visit you.

- He did visit at night though, when there wasn't supposed to be visitors, he snuck in. Silently sitting on the edge of your infirmary back, staring back at your dull eyes. At first he was surprised you were awake but he simply sat there.. so you wouldn't have to be alone again.

- Logan would stay the whole night, tapping your arm.. He ignored if you flinched, he understood what happened to those who have been brainwashed by the Federation. He tries to respect your space, doing just soft taps to let you know he was there every once in a while.

- Logan formed a habit to spend every night in your infirmary room, as if he was ‘guarding’ it for you. Ensuring no one came in, no matter how many times Elias tells him to allow you to sleep.. He does, but he's going to be around while you do.

- Logan simply wants to protect you, ensuring the Federation couldn't get you again, even though there is a slim chance of anyone getting into HQ, he likes to think it eases your mind, even if you couldn't or didn't voice it. 

- He'd sit there for hours, moving to sit next to you.. sometimes he would lay his head on your forearm, to sleep near you. Sometimes he would shift his head onto your chest to simply hear your heartbeat to ensure you were alive.

- Mentally Logan is breaking down, unable to handle the fact you were no longer the you he knew well. Not taking well to the fact your memories were messed with, so he tries to make you remember, using the rare photos he has of you and the team to try and show you.

Keegan P. Russ:

- Keegan broke in the moment he got word of your return, scaring all the medics as he kicked down the door (he didn't have to, it was unlocked, but he didn't realize It) as he stormed in. He would say your name, as he walked over to you. He sorta aggressively grabbed your shirt, to check your now bandaged wounds, just simply checking you over himself to just see you were alright, his gloved hands firmly checking over each of your now bandaged wounds.

- After a bit, he would grumble and sigh as grab the chair to the side, dragging it, the noise being loud, if you flinch he would place his hand on over your collarbones as if to keep you down, murmuring a soft shush as he did so.

- His hand would hold yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he would ensure no one else was around before being a bit affectionate with you. “You better be fuckin’ alright” Keegan would mutter under his breath.

- His hand stays firmly on your body, your chest, your arm. Your hand, he doesn’t care if you're brainwashed, he silently cares that you're alive. He’s willing to put up with you, he didn’t need you to remember (despite the fact, that he silently wishes for you to), he just needs you to be aware he’s there. Silently holding you, protecting you. He won’t admit it out loud, but all his actions while being around you are to protect you from further harm.

- He stays with you for a few hours every day. Leaving for missions when he needs to but he always usually returns to your side to inform you about his day. Aggressively challenges you, pissing you off with his snide comments, riling you up to do something.. anything. That's all he wanted, to get you back to your usual self.

- He would.. be a bit more patient than usual, sighing as he settles in the chair next to you. Ends up with his legs kicked up on your bed, his hand tightly holding yours, murmuring insults under his breath at the world.

- He would end up putting your favorite shows on, informing you of anything you couldn't remember, he knows it all. You're favorite character, favorite moment, anything you question about yourself, he probably knows it. 

- He plays music too, any music you like. As if trying to subconsciously make you remember anything. He would mutter the lyrics under his breath, having learned any songs you used to like in the time you weren't around. 

- His hand rests on your chest, feeling your heartbeat. He silently counts along to it, to ensure you were alive, well, and your heartbeat was beating at a decent pace.

- Keegan was willing to get you revenge as well, working his bodies to its limits on every mission to get rid of any Federation soldier in his path, he cared for his teammates a lot, and knowing what you went through, he would make them regret it

- Keegan is angry, angry at the world, the Federation.. Maybe a bit at you, despite knowing it was stupid. It wasn’t your fault you were captured, maybe he was also angry at himself, but he simply kept that anger for himself and any Federation soldiers he comes across in the future.

Thomas A. Merrick

- Merrick is surprisingly gentle, his hand resting on your shoulder as he sits on the chair next to your infirmary bed. He shifted the binders of work he needed to do on the floor by his seat as he checks up on you. 

- He tends to just quietly work by your side. It was a win-win for him, he gets to stay by your side while also finishing up on work. Sometimes he would talk when you are awake. Sometimes just telling you about things you had missed while gone for the months you were tortured and brainwashed.

- He would also apologize for all that you went through, he feels bad. He understands he couldn't control what happened but he regretted not moving fast enough to save you.

- Merrick would check up on you as well, checking your bandages, it's not that he didn't trust the medics, he did. But he felt like sometimes he just had to see for himself you were okay.

- He would be there, he would call himself stupid if he wasn't, he liked just talking to you, it reminded him of what your relationship was like before you were brainwashed..  or just talking to you. He didn't need you to speak back if you didn't feel like it, or couldn't.

- He would take you on walks, leading the way, or showing you around HQ again, even if you couldn't remember the way around. Merrick gladly will show you around, as many times as you need. He would also remind you of funny stories, and explain where it took place to try and get you to remember.

- Merrick is saddened and pissed off, but he understands, he couldn’t be sad forever. Yes, he will grieve the past version of you that he knew very well. But he simply kept that quiet and helped you recover. Merrick knew he would like the you, you are despite you being brainwashed, and he will continue to support you through it all. But on the field? Suddenly he gets more scary, yelling a lot more, and aggressively taking out Federation soldiers.

Kick:

- Kick is there, by your side while he has a break in his work, his hand firmly holding your forearm as if to ensure he doesn't ‘lose’ you again. He doesn't talk the first few days of your return, he glances away when your dull eyes meet his.

- He would also pick up one of your hobbies, even if you forgot all about it, if it was a video game, he would play the game and remind you all about it, what you liked, which characters you liked, show you your account and make his own. If you liked drawing, he would attempt to get into it. Basically just picks up any hobbies you had, to try and re-teach you, wanting to see the passion/love you had for it return.

- He’s a bit overbearing, wanting to see everything, every injury, every one who enters your room, he just wants to ensure you are okay.

- He uses a military drone to ‘entertain’ you, even if you don't react much and just watch, he's happy, talking you through his own hobbies for hours at a time. He just is trying to spend time with you, he almost lost you, and he wouldn't take his time for granted anymore.

- His hand is usually resting on you, your shoulder, forearm, knee anywhere you feel comfortable with. 

- He would sometimes tell you about his day, or something stupid Logan and Hesh have done as of late. 

- He would sneak in food, whatever you liked before getting brainwashed, he would cook it himself for you, the cost doesn't matter, if you liked it, he buys or cooks it. Leaves a note that he did indeed bring you food for the medics incase they needed to know but he does it before he leaves so the he doesn't have to face the medics.

- He also brings you your stuff, things you liked or like to do, will bring you books, papers, yarn anything really you want or can do. 

- He frowns when you don't react to the things he brings, as he sees you don't have the passion for any thing you used to like. He doesn't like seeing you.. Brainwashed, doesn't like that you don't respond, and only respond to orders. He will be here while you heal, understanding you would never be the same person he once knew.

- He tries to hype you up, oh you sat up for the first time since getting back? He's hyping you up, you talk for the first time since being tortured, you got this! He's hyping you up every step of the way on your journey to heal.

- He’ll do something stupid just to see you smile, he would make Logan and Hesh do something stupider to just see you smile, encourages stupid shit to Logan and Hesh, saying that yeah.. that would make you smile. But ends up just laughing at the two, and using them as his own amusement while ensuring he would be by your side the whole time.

Riley: (Honorary Dog mention) 

- Riley is sat by the side of your bed when he isn't with Hesh, firmly sat there to protect You.

- Barks for medics when you ‘need’ it, swiftly learns that when your hand brushes against his tail, he needs to bark loudly for a medic to check up on you.

- He waits for you to be ‘better’ so he could get you to play fetch with him, but for now.. until you heal, he is willing to wait by your side. 

- After a few months of your healing journey, Riley sets up to lay on the bottom of your bed instead of on the floor.. flops his head by your handcuffed hand so you can pet him.

- Riley is very loyal, staying put for hours at a time, when he wakes up, his eyes glance at you. To ensure you were alive, awake, and aware. If you sleep too long he chomps (lightly) on your hand to wake you up.. if you don't, Riley goes running off to the first Ghosts member he could find to drag them over to you.

[torhues]

oikawa tooru.

oikawa loves to watch you sleep.

it's nothing new. you've been living together for a little over a year now, his mornings begin with you sleeping by his side most of the time but, but oikawa doesn't look like he has moved on from the way you look when you're sleeping.

he thinks you look funny— ugly, maybe not ugly, but definitely funny. you look like such a mess, make weird faces, leave trails of incoherent words that wake him up in middle of the night. your limbs are all over the bed and most of the time, they're above him, as if he's your bed or something. you never wake up the way you go to sleep, always ending up on his side of the bed, pushing him to the edge while wrapping your arms around him as if you're holding him for falling down, like you're not the reason why he's in that position in the first place. you end up taking the whole comforter and it got to the point where oikawa suggested using two different comforters for the sake of both of you, but it didn't help either, since you would leave yours and slide into his every single night.

but he doesn't complain, not at all. he doesn't mind if you steal his comforter and he has to sleep without one every night. it's fine if he falls down from bed once a few days, or if he wakes up with a neck or back pain thanks to your habit of having your hands and legs all over him. oikawa doesn't have any complaints because he thinks it's a blessing to wake up every night and look at your beautiful face.

he thinks you're the prettiest while sleeping because you don't seem to care about the way you have to present yourself to people, even if it's just him and you in the room. you smile while sleeping, or frown, make some sort of angry face, etcetera etcetera; oikawa thinks it's adorable, because those are the moments when he realises he's in love with you.

"you could've woken me up," and sometimes, he's too busy falling in love with you, he doesn't realise you've woken up already.

"thought i'd let you sleep a little more," he speaks just above the comforting silence enveloping the two of you, trying to maintain the decorum, matching the intensity of his voice with yours while caressing your cheeks. "you're making me want to sleep again,"

"well, y—" he slips in next to you, making you shift involuntarily to make space for him. his hands are a little cold, sending bits of shivers down your spine as he wraps them around your waist, letting his fingertips trace random patterns on the bare skin under your sweatshirt. "i'd love to sleep more but, we need to make breakfast,"

"what's so good about breakfast at seven on a winter morning?" he whispers against the crook of your neck.

you chortle at the contact, "may be that it can help me with my hunger?"

"if we sleep, we won't be hungry anymore," oikawa pulls back, allowing his eyes to admire your face while you take your time presuming the words behind his love sick eyes. "can i tell you something?"

"go on,"

"i think i'm in love with you,"

your lips curl into a smile, "you tell me that every day," or more so, multiple times, every day. it's more of a remind so that you don't forget he loves you, and that he loves you more than anything else in this world, as if you're ever going to forget it.

"no i mean, i'm in love with you right now, at the moment, while we're lying next to each other; like, i'm falling in love with you right now and—" a pause, as if he's trying to build up suspense or create the atmosphere. it's simply an oikawa thing to do, he wants everything about you to be special. "— and, i don't think i can ever stop falling in love with you,"

it's magical how every single word that falls off his lips manages to flutter your heart. his smile never fails to fluster you even though you've been dating for three years now. oikawa has you going crazy and also keeps you sane. it's difficult, but you're somewhere in between. he has you head over heels for himself, making you fall for him every morning that you wake up. he's keeping you afloat but is also the reason why you're drowning. he is like a pool of contradictions in your life and you can't help it because every part of him makes you feel alive.

that is the effect oikawa has on you. so, you cup his cheeks, hoping that you have the same, if not more, effect on him as well. "i don't think i can ever stop falling in love with you either,"

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 22: Ex Sex, Demon Blood, and Robot Limbs

The holidays came and went without much issue, took about a week for Carmen to adjust to walking again and even quicker to adjust to her new arms. M had holed himself back into his room for the most part, much to the teen siblings disappointment. They wanted to see how bad his jolly could get. But nonetheless his gifts were set by his door for him to collect. On HearthsWarming morning, the teens came down from their prepared rooms to find that the little humble decor that was previously put up had multiplied tenfold, the tree was almost overloaded with ornaments, a curved fortress wall of presents for every person in that HQ was sitting both under and around the tree, almost as high as the tree itself. Walls had boughs of holly, evergreen, ribbon and poinsettia flowers in a classic red green and gold motif. There were straw grass goats, menorahs, different species figurines caroling, candles of nearly every color that was specific to multiple different holidays. It was like every winter holiday exploded into a single room.

Blendin and Daring’s eyes went huge and their mouths were unable to shut for a very long time, they were so stunned. Carmen had gotten up early to start the massive amount of festive food and blinked as she sipped her coffee, leaning a little on Wally’s walking cane. “Well. That was expected. Looks like M couldnt contain it in his room this year.” The kids looked at her, “M DID THIS?!” Carmen nodded, sipping more coffee. “Mmhm. This is what I was warning you about. This is just the living room. See all this? Embody all this into a single person. Thats what he is dealing with. And he HATES it. Like a song you absolutely hate being stuck in your head only worse.”

Vasha and Drake came through the front door and stopped short, “M got loose? And we missed it??” 079 blipped up on the tv, which was decorated in tinsel garland much to the ai’s annoyance. “Yes, yes, the rude one spent all night like a cartoon whirlwind, I’m surprised no one woke up with the incessant caroling off key.” Soon everyone, other than M respectably, had seen the holiday explosion and marveled at the little personal details for each agent and family member. After a hefty breakfast of meats, waffles, pancakes, french toast and various danish and fruit, they all gathered for gifts. Predictably the kids got the majority of presents since it was their first winter season with family. “There no way we can bring all stuff this back to our dorms…” they both lamented. Asta shrugged, “Why not just split the stuff between here and there? Its not like you don’t have a place to stay right here. You can come and go as you please!” Blendin absolutely loved the idea while Daring was a little more apprehensive. She then noticed everything of hers had a gift receipt, to which Carmen nodded, “To show you that we didnt steal any gifts. I want you to trust us. Our honesty is one of our biggest gifts we have for you.” Daring smiled a bit, still torn. “Everything is so nice, and not just blindly given. All these things are all part of my interests..” she paused and it looked like she was looking for something to be mad about it all. But all she could muster was, “Well, I still think you’re up to something! Quit trying to prove me wrong!” And after muttering a sincere thank you, she proceeded to curl up on the sofa, getting a feel of her new phone and laptop complete with writing programs to make it easier to write and publish her works.

Lekir plopped a bow onto Carmen’s head and joking poked Wally, “Hey Stripes, Happy HearthsWarming, we upgraded your wife! With those augments from Sky and Sig, and the demon essence, she’s no longer a little squishy! She can actually take a hit now!” Carmen thought a moment. “So I got stronger, live longer, my appearance changed and I have fire powers. What about the new fangs and am I supposed to draw heat to make heat? Because I made something cold with one hand and something hot in the other earlier.”

Lekir raised an eyebrow and suddenly got onto the mare’s lap and started sticking her fingers into her muzzle to look at her teeth. “What do you mean cold? What fangs?" She looks closer into her mouth and quickly clasps her hands around her wife's snout, "FUCK! Okay... so good news and... not bad news!" Carmen blinks, confused, “Well you said I was only half demon now. What do you mean not ba- Ow…You mabe me bipe my tonge.. mmh, I hope I’m not venomous or poisonous. Because that would suck about now. Or am I a fire vampire?” Lekir baps her lightly and sits back down, debating about getting a chart and crayons.

“You’re not a fire vampire, you’re an idiot sandwich. But no, You don't inject anything... well you could but don't try it, you could possibly liquefy someone from the inside out or freeze them entirely while removing all the water in their body, essentially freeze drying them.” Carmen narrows her eyes, running her tongue over her teeth, “I dunno if I like that.” Lekir waves it off, “Its not really something you need to worry about, its more a conscious thing like you would need to choose to do it. So first off, don’t bite people. Ok, I told you about the pendant that had my brother's essence, right? My two brothers have different parents, but we each share one, I'll leave out all the details of that, that's not important!” She takes a deep breath and tries to figure out how to simply explain it. “So, back in Cador, my home world, Larquez is what we called a Harbinger. They are a being who has purified blood due to Ketsru blood, demon blood. Instead of it causing mixed bloods to create a lesser of the two parents like in your world, it instead enhances both or more to 100%, meaning you're 100% Jirvi, Ketsru, Vesk and... equine. None of your history is removed, just... more if itself. It's hard to explain, but the title should be a hint. You are much more than you ever were, and likely able to overwhelm me now... which means... WE CAN BE ROUGH WITH YOU!” Carmen squints her eyes suspiciously, “And you got all that from my hand being cold and hot and by looking at my new fangs?”

The Vesk shrugs, “If you were only part Jirvi, fire demon, you would not be able to switch from hot to cold. It would be just fire. And the fangs aren’t a Jirvi trait. But this does mean you can also shapeshift since you are a Cador Harbinger now.”

Carmen scratches her head, “I honestly dont think I’m Harbinger material.. I mean I probably wont use most of what you say I can do.. I’m just a little thief.”

Lekir wags her tail, “A little thief who can fight and win wars and not break when having the most intense sex of her life! I’m sure Ninoga and Kiros are gonna be thankful not to have to treat you like bone china anymore!” Carmen’s face got as red as her blouse, “I dont want to fight in wars or anything like that.. but the sex does sound pretty nice..” Daring exclaims out loud, “Omg! Can we NOT talk about my mom’s sex life?! Its fucking gross!! We are right here! We dont wanna hear about our parents fucking everyone under the sun! Right Blendin?!… Blendin?” Daring turns and sees her brother not even paying any attention as he had new headphones on and was fully engrossed in playing a new handheld video game.

Lekir snickers and pats Carmen on the thigh, “Don’t worry, you’re now able to survive the gravity and atmosphere of Cador, I can bring you there and there’s a few Harbingers there that can teach you how to control your new powers. We can go starting next month if you wish. Maybe take a few weeks off or something. I’ll get to show you around.” Wally grins, “Wow, that is a lot to kinda sink in. So she is technically a main character now, not just the odd one out! Like an anime!!” Blendin looks up, moving his headphones, “Someone say anime??” Daring just gives a slow turn look at him, “You heard THAT but not all the other stuff?!” He blinks, “What other stuff?”

After cleaning up the wrappings and ribbons, there was a modest feast complete with desserts, to which after was the mountain of dishes that took nearly three days to clean completely down to the last fork. Luckily by then all the leftovers were already devoured and enjoyed, the wine cellar had never looked as empty in quite a while.

Soon it was the middle of the first month of the new year, the kids went back to their dorms and M stumbled out of his room all haggard and hungover. The HQ had been cleared of holiday swag and was back to its normal decor for at least a week or two. He made his way to the kitchen to brew some deathwish coffee, black, no sugar, no cream. From in the very large walk in pantry, the entrance to the wine cellar glowed blue and Skyggja and Drake were hauling stacks of crates of different liquors and spirits on dollies, trying to replenish the inventory that was consumed over the holidays. “Hey its the sleeping snow angel, awake from its nap!” Drake chuckled as M leaned against the pantry door, his response was just a deep growly groan as he sipped the coffee. His somewhat tattered teal and blue insect wings twitched a bit but his tentacles were still tucked in, not shown. His long slender and brushlike tail swayed with slight growing annoyance as he watched more crates get stored.

“Where’s Red?” He grumped, Skyggja raising an eyebrow, holding a crate for a moment. “Well aren’t you your bright and festive self. This must be you normally from what I’ve heard. Carmen is upstairs with Sig, she wanted to discuss possible add-ons to her hands. I think she thinking about storing lock-picks or something in there. Which is really easy to do. We just need to make sure her new superpowers dont interfere with the system or components.” M scratched his head with one eye closed, “New Superpowers? I thought I heard something about her only having fire.. ain’t yer stuff fireproof or some shit?” Skyggja set down the crate and put her hands on her hips, “Didn’t anyone update you yet?” M grumbled, “Yer the first two souls I’ve seen since waking the fuck up. I haven’t even looked at the fuckin calendar yet.” His face showed how much of a hangover he had, even his cheeks had a tinge of queazy green. “Oh, well Lekir can fill you in with details but the shortcut version is that the essence made her more than fire but rather she won the lottery and got like three other bloods? Something confusing but she’s considered a Harbinger now and has new added strength and other things. Like you could slam a metal chair against her back and she’s just look at you, not budging.” M smacked his lips and sighed, looking into his drink. “Well la-dee-fuckin-dah. Looks like I’ll need to find a Vesk and do some fucking homework. As long as nothing fucking changed her into someone she’s not..Then I’d have a fuckin problem.”

Drake chuckled, “Oh, no, she’s her usual stubborn self, just dealing with a lot changes. Rightfully so. She says she’s taking it stride but I’ve heard her break down behind closed doors once or twice. Its gonna take a bit for her to get over what happened.” M hmmed in return and turned to walk away but paused and looked at the glowing doorway, taking a sip. “Hm. Maybe I’ll work on the C5 doorway later. We do have that interdimensional item transporter just sitting in the mech lab. I bet I can access the fuckin multiverse if I connect the ley doors and Chronoskimmer to it.” He muttered. Skyggja stacked more crates, just about finished, “Just make sure you run it past me, I don’t want any funny business running through the system. I don’t need that goofy ass Dogma Metatron digital wanna-be nagging me for something I had no clue about!” M waved his hand, “Yeh, yeh..” and proceeded to talk a walk outside by the perimeter.

He strolled the beach and stood watching the waves for a few moments before he noticed a small boat that was dragged ashore. Looks like its been there possibly an hour with how the tide was currently. His gaze wandered up towards the gardens and saw a small moving patch of electric blue hair. Cracking his neck, he magically sent (a power that he called shadowing to summon or send away items from a short distance) his cup back to the kitchen with a small puff of toxic green flame and smoke and straightened his half open button down shirt, tucking it into his pants. He silently made his way to the intruder. An extremely slender dark balance changeling female, same body color and tail shape as M, but her hair was that electric fiberoptic looking blue hair in a half shaved/ shoulder length droopy mohawk style that he had seen from the beach and her eyes, segmented and gradient like his, only in red and yellow. She was crouching behind the bushes, taking account of the security cameras. Deciding to mess with her, he crouches down near her, rubbing his chin and whispers, “Do you think they’ll notice us?” Her long ears perked up as her eyes grew wide, whipping her head towards him. It took her a minute before squealing with delight, “Oh em gee!! Skaedfryd!! I didn’t know you were here! Were you assigned here too?! We can work together!!” She flung herself at him hard, tackling him and planting her lips upon his. He pushed her off his lips and leaned up on his elbows as she stayed straddling his hips. He wiped his muzzle with his sleeve.

Assigned? What was her game? M recognized the changeling as his ex from 200 or so years back. “Uh, yeh, I’ve been posted here for a while. Why are you here?” She flitted her little red and orange wings, shimmying her shoulders, “I got hired by this big shot no name contractor to put a hit on the red lady in there! Who hired you?” His ears dipped back as he narrowed his eyes, dropping the playful act, “I was hired by the red lady in there. I’m part of her fuckin security.” She shimmied again, grinding her hips, “Oh so a secret inside hit job then? You were always the best cause of death in our generation~” she practically moaned at him. She ran her fingers over his chest, slipping into his shirt, licking her lips. He sighed in annoyance and dropped his head back. “No, you fucking dumb bitch. I mean I am literally her protector. I don’t kill. I found something better to put my talents toward.”

This was news to her and her mood switched on a dime, “So you mean to tell me this cunty unicorn basically pussy-whipped you into submission? What the actual fuck? You were so sexy back when you were covered in blood, pieces of corpse littering the ground, your claws ripping through muscle and sinew like a hot knife through butter~” she got sidetracked again and started to grind again. She stopped and looked down, “Why arent you getting hard?” He growled, “Because I dont fucking like you, you annoy the piss outta me and I want you to get off of me.” Its not like he couldn’t just toss her, but he gave her a chance to move on her own. She leans forward, brushing some hair behind her ear, moaning, “Thats not what you said two hundred years ago~ As I recall, you used my horns like handle bars to bend my back in such a twisted way~ Ooohm, makes me wet just remembering!~” His eyes glowed as he picked her up with his tentacles and got to his feet, dusting himself off. She, on the other-hand, seemed to be in near orgasm just by the thought of being handled by tentacles. “For fuck sakes, get a fuckin hold of yerself!” He simply tossed her into a bush and shuddered. “Crazy ass bitch, get off our island and report back to yer boss that you failed. Fuck, you’re so fuckin one track minded. I’m goin back to work. Fuck this shit.”

She watched him stalk away but then hurried after him, she had shifted from her navy blue catsuit, to a baby blue pleated short skirt, a low cut light purple crop tank top and baby pink leg warmers and light green fishnet elbow length fingerless gloves. She whipped a vine around his ankles and swept him off his feet so he dangled upside down face to face to her, her smile to his grimace. “See? I turned that frowny frown upside down! We should totally sixty-nine like this sometime~” M nods, “Oh sure, how about the Tuesday after never, which is a week after Fuck off!” She laughed “You’re so funny! Now come on, you can tell me all the little details on this little chicky’s weaknesses~ I need to hurry and get this job done so I can do my nails. They’re gonna look sooo good around your cock… and scratching down your back as you take me, mmmhf!~” she squirmed as she stood in front of him, he was still upside down and quickly losing patience. He had learned to be extra cautious of his actions during his hangover, he had a bad habit of overreacting greatly. Things that normally make him quickly explode now brings him to a slow rumbling boil before going all out.

“So yer saying that you need a good fucking, right? You want me to rail you till you cant walk right for weeks, fill you up with my juices and make you my little sex pet, is that it?” He softened his tone to a low sexual growl, making her legs tremble just from listening to him. “Oooh fuck yes!!” She begged, letting him down to stand on his own. He caressed the back of her neck with surprising gentleness with his hand, the other sliding around the small of her back. He twisted her so she had her back to him as he pressed against her, his hand almost cupping her chin upwards as the other explored her front, his muzzle kissing and nipping her neck hungrily as she practically melted in his grasp. She writhed and moaned, he stroked her nethers just barely. She couldnt see his eyes but they were twitching in disgust. His hand wanted to recoil from feeling how drenched she was.

He removed his hands and grasped hers together behind her back, shadowing a pair of Carmen’s handcuffs and locking them in place before pushing her to the ground, face down, ass up. “Oohhh fuck! If I known you were going to be this kinky, I would have brought toys!! Aaahhhnnn~” she wriggled her ass as he got close behind her, he could feel her grinding, he reached and grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, “I always knew you were such a bad girl. You really want me to stick it deep, dont you? You want to feel every single inch…” she cried out and begged, her body already trembling in wanton anticipation. “Oh god yes!! Give it to me!!” He straightened up and shadowed Lekir’s spear into his grip and thrust it into her back by her shoulders and pushed it all the way through deep into the ground. The changeling mare screeched and her two vines whipped out by her wings, trying to attack him. Effortlessly, he catches both and pulls them taught, using a large folded pocketknife to slice them off by the base. She writhed and attempted to reach the spear but the way he had her positioned and bound, she didnt have proper movement nor leverage strength to rescue herself. “What the FUCK?! That shit is cold like ice!! Let me up! Skaedfryd!! I’m gonna kill you for this!!”

She, like M, was not so easily disposed or destroyed by a simple spear to the body. For good measure, he hammered the end a little bit to make sure it didnt move. He picked up the severed now-wilted vines and wiped his face with his sleeve, groaning. “Maybe now you’ll take the hint and fuckin leave.” He got halfway the path when Lekir starts coming towards him, “Where is it, bug boy? I know you took my spear! And Carmen’s cuffs. Only you have this green flamey smoky magic. I’ll have you know I was in the middle of- is that..? what is doing over there?” He looked over his shoulder at the struggling ex and shrugged. “I needed it for gardening, ya know, just doing some trimming, getting rid of some pesky horny weeds.” He tosses the vines into the compost heap and puts the knife back into his pocket.

The Vesk narrowed her eyes and looked at M’s supposed victim. “Right. Gardening.. well, you seem busy, I’ll leave you to… whatever that is. By the way, you got a bit of something there..” she gestured to a sizable wet spot on the front of his pants. “FOR FUCK SAKE I JUST WASHED THESE! YOU DAMN HORNY ASS BITCH!” He stormed off towards the HQ, “Whatever, you deal with her, put her inside an iceberg to sink the titanic for all I care. God damn stupid crazy ass bitch…” Lekir just observed the struggling ex for a moment before joining him inside the mansion, ignoring the stream of obscenities.

[cloudbattrolls]

Hazey

Thrixe Varzim | Present Night | Atlantis

This drabble is preceded by Glass Among Murk, Part 2 and followed by O Sleeper.

Thrixe woke up sweating and aching, just for a moment.

Then he shook his head, blinking. No, he was fine. He put an arm to his face, sopor slime gently dripping off it.

Yes, his forehead was its usual cool temperature, normal for a violet. He must have only been dreaming about being ill.

Odd thing to dream about. Usually he dreamt about very different things…

He shook his head. Well, he was awake now, no use in dwelling on a strange sensation.

The hybrid got out of his recuperacoon and onto his drying mat in one smooth motion. The green slime instantly began to trail off in gentle wisps of vapor, providing no lasting trace of itself on his skin.

He couldn’t breathe, the vapor was toxic, his chest was tight, his gills were overflowing with black -

He blinked again. No, he was…he was fine. Except something was clearly wrong. Should he call Gaia, see if they knew anything? Or Ullane?

He thought back. Could he himself have done something wrong to cause these hallucinations? That’s what they seemed to be, anyway.

Except everything had been normal lately. He’d been working in his pocket dimension, cooking with Karell and other times Mikiel, going swimming with Pidge…he’d visited Glasya and Hannah…

Oh, right, he’d stopped at Selatak a little while back. Or right next to it, in the hollow hills. There had been some issue with a strange illness there, and he’d done his best to eliminate it. 

Wait.

The violet grimaced. Maybe he should have called Ginger…except he didn’t really know them, and he’d admit, the horseman of Pestilence unsettled him a little. It had seemed so much easier to try to solve it himself, he was far more precise and capable with his powers now than he had been even half a sweep ago.

Besides, the trolls there had been suffering, mostly lowbloods ignored by the nearby city. He knew Ullane would have wanted him to help.

Maybe Zanzul knew something. If she wasn’t experiencing the same thing, he’d know it was something particular to him, not just because of being a hybrid.

If all else failed…he reluctantly conceded he could ask Uryali.

He could. Technically. If he became particularly desperate. If he felt like getting visions and sounds and feelings for answers.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand, but…

Whenever Thrixe looked at the entity that had once been a hybrid like himself, he remembered how easy it would be to fall as the Muted had, if he wasn’t careful. To let the music and growth of the world consume him and to consume it in return.

He shook his head and took out his hair ties, putting his curls back into their usual braid. The shadows at the edge of his room seemed darker than usual, despite his low violet lights, partially grown from his own flesh. 

His fingers came back boiling with black bubbles, crusting over and then foaming again. He quickly looked away, but could feel the cycle repeating. He could smell it; a rotten, salty odor now permeating the air.

Despite everything Thrixe had done to his own flesh, everything he’d ever become, the hybrid felt sick. Horrified.

He made a noise no troll could - a gurgling wail and lamentation of multiple voices at once - and then froze.

It echoed.

His voices echoed back to him, and when they sang, they sang of hate.

They sang of his death.

No growth. No change. Still, silent, sickened death as he became disease for eternity…

Thrixe woke up gasping in his recuperacoon.

Zanzul, he cried out in his mind, before he fell back asleep, body wracked with fever. 

Zanzul, help me.

—

Hours later, an investigation team from Atlantis followed up on reports of eerie, cacophonous singing and brief screaming from a hive in the underwater quarter.

All they found was a broken recuperacoon, a shivering miniature gryphon, and a large black trail of muck leading to the broken door of the building cracked into scattered pieces.

As if something large and many-limbed had dragged itself out and into the watery depths.

[sketch-guardian]

Mc putting bows,ribbons,stickers or just painting (with they’re consent of course) on the eye things and just being fond of them +plus mobim joining in plausibly? - Mc who loved Mobim asker

Hello Mobim lover anon!🤗 Don't worry I remember you, since your ask was quite recent and I'm glad you enjoyed last time's post about Mobim☺I'm also happy to see demons like Mobim and the eye-like creatures getting appreciated✨especially because I'm not sure how they would be canonically viewed in Obey Me honestly🤔Anyway, before starting, since you didn't specify "RAD classmates with MC", I assumed you meant just a scenario between MC and the other little monsters for this ask🙈I hope I understood correctly😣if I didn't, please feel free to tell me so,in that case I'll try to fix the problem as soon as I can😢Now, moving on to your ask:

MC BEING FOND OF ODON'S EYE-LIKE CREATURES (+MOBIM)

Odon's eye-like creatures have each shown to possess different behavior traits, so MC may receive conflicting answers depending on which creature they interact with. Usually only two eyes are mainly shown in public, one rather cheerful and playful while the other serious and exasperated. MC would have no problem dealing with the first one, it would prove to be a rather affectionate, cordial creature and willing to be scrambled, provided MC doesn't touch it right in the eye with fingers or other objects, because if they did so,even on accident, both creatures may lash out involuntarily out of pain.

Besides that point, bows and ribbons would be not only cute, but also pratical, useful for distinguishing them, as it is particularly difficult to do so and the stickers and painting would be an interesting experience for them, having never tried anything like that on skin, however it would be safer to use non-harmful products and then help them remove them after a while, for although they are hardy, they have no arms to clean themselves with and it is unknown what effect human products might have on them,still they appreciate being asked for consent and MC's concern for them. As for the other eye-like creature, the grumpy one, it would show a little more resistance to being touched,playing hard to get, despite secretly wanting to feel MC's affection too and in the end, it would join the fun, still a bit jealous with Mobim in the same room, who would not understand the situation or notice the glare of the grumpy eye, therefore limiting itself to gladly helping MC to decorate the creatures, to arrange the details and in turn act as a model too.

The eye-like creatures and Mobim, if we don't count the slight jealousy present when MC has to decide who to spend their time playing with, get along quite well and help each other both for serious things and for activities such as playing together,after all they're all very fond of MC and they don't want to upset them.

Basically, the eye-like creatures would respond with silent enthusiasm, some more and some less, but there is something MC should be aware of: although usually only two eye-like creatures manifest, these monsters just like Odon's limbs in their demon form are multiple and by taking care of them with love and care, there is the risk of attracting a whole up to ten or more of these creatures, waiting for their turn to receive their dose of affection from MC and some even from Mobim. In that case MC could boast, feeling like the most protected and kept in sight human of Devildom, but perhaps it would be better to avoid such situation, because taking care of so many different eye-like creatures and distinguishing them with bows, stickers and paint could be complicated,so perhaps it would be better to limit to three creatures only for the moment, namely the two main eye-like creatures (who Azul once playfully named Bob and Rob-) and Mobim

[dkniade]

January 7, 2024. 11:09 PM

Small Dragonspine snippet about cold to practice description

Coldness sure is… something. I wrote this to practise doing descriptions, after watching “Fear of Cold” by Jacob Geller, which is very engaging and well-presented, threading together multiple stories and their perspectives.

Notes: generally depressing tone, detailed description of the cold, snow, alone in the wilderness, scavenging

Generally speaking, Mondstadt is blessed by the Anemo Archon with warm gentle winds and soft grassy plains. As you look up from your feet, the clear stream babbles as it flows towards Starfell Lake, encircling the great oak tree, protecting it. Sweet sounds of chirping sound in your ears, as though Barbatos himself is singing a tune. No matter how weary you are from your travels, you can always rest in the shade of that tree.

But Barbatos’ voice cannot reach you here on this mountain.

Dragonspine is cold. It’s cold in the sense that a pyre doesn’t feel as warm as it looks. And the lake and the sugar-like snow that stretches on eternally is beautiful, certainly, but there’s a difference between looking at a picturesque scenery and experiencing it with your body firsthand.

Indeed, the hostile environment earns the mountain its grim reputation of claiming various adventurers. In the Starlight Cavern, you hear the crunch of snow beneath your boots echoing throughout the space, revealing its labyrinth-like scale and complexity. While walking over the fragile wooden bridge to the alchemist’s camp, it creaks under your weight, and chips of wood splinter and fall down into the emptiness of the great valley below. While resting at an abandoned camp and gazing into the fire, you hear rustles in the bushes around you but see nothing as you look out.

But the cold stalks your body like a ghost possessing your flesh. It steals feeling from your fingers. You paw ungracefully with your stiff gloved hands at the rectangular stone mechanism you occasionally find around ruins. The strength in your arms diminish as you feel the freezing wind biting your skin. With a slow creak, the mechanism comes to life and reveals the glowing amber core inside along with the warmth you had craved like an animal without food.

And the waters are not any less dangerous just because they’re not frozen. Mondstadt’s ponds and lakes are generally okay to swim in and it never gets too cold in the plains and valleys. But in Dragonspine, the cold spreads across your limbs faster in the freezing water, like a fisherman’s web that entangles you and slows down your movement. Between your safety and the loss of that notebook in the waters, it’s best to pick only one.

Food is scarce. Far from the ripe berries and sweet flowers abundant in the grassy plains, you must learn to hunt boars silently and strike with impeccable timing before you or your weapon gives in to the harsh and unforgiving environment. Even then, scavenging for amounts of flesh you could carry from the body is no easy task and you’re always vulnerable to whatever masked entity behind you, locked and loaded.

The cold reminds you of the dangers of your journey. No matter how prepared or graceful you thought you were in combat, the cold reduces you to a small creature that looks out into the horizon to admire its beauty while at the same time scan for warning signs. Your once-quick swings are replaced by slow and stiff dodges and lunges. Physical enemies could be killed, yes, but the sharp winds whispering by your ears promise a grey eternity with Dragonspine leading the dance.

But you must keep going, traveller.

[paragonrobits]

so the way i see there are broadly three types of fusion/combination/mashing up 2+ characters into a more powerful form

Appearances Combos/The DBZ Style: Arguably the most well known and classic variation. The characters combine into a form that has elements of their physical features, though specific aspects beyond that vary a lot; the combined form may be physically larger, for instance, but in general physical features (hair, coloration, nonhuman elements) have attributes of all component characters, or average out their distinctive characteristics. If there enough people taking part in the fusion, averaging them out may become a necessity.

A Whole New Shape/MONSTERIZE ME CAPTAIN/The SU Style: The fusion is a completely new form entirely, and while individual features or aspects of the components may be present, they otherwise will look completely unlike their components. This fusion is often completely monstrous or at least distinctive in nature, though this is not universal. SU itself gives a very broad spectrum of forms, with the most inhuman ranging from all manner of multiple limbs and eyes in very distinctive and nonhuman arrangements (multiple arms set in many pairs, or multiple arms that branch off from elbows), drastically different coloration. The general focus on these forms is a cool transformation or interesting design above all else. An SU style form also generally takes a specific theme based on the dynamic between the components, which makes it relatively easy or the most difficult fusion to figure out depending on how well you have your characters figured out.

One further addendum; SU itself also features fusions that are a borderline case with DBZ fusion, as these fusions have few, if any, monstrous/nonstandard features and look like a composite of the combined characters. Stevonnie (as a much larger human with combined elements of their components) is an excellent example of this. Accordingly, for your own fusion ideas it may be a good idea to treat the DBZ to SU spectrum as an in-universe spectrum so you can choose fusion extremes to suit your desries.

Combined Forms/Mecha Fusion/Transformers Style: In this fusion form (also potentially named for combiners, a specific Transformer variant that codifies the visual of this fusion style for me personally), the bodies of the components physically merge and transform into the desired shape. This is most often seen in purely mechanical or robotic characters; while it is possible for non-robots to merge like this, it may be difficult to imagine it, as it is often depicted as a purely mundane ability, if one that represents an ideal of teamwork and the power of friendship (at its most positive) or the dissolution of the self in service for the faction as a whole (at its least charitable interpretation). The actual form can vary a lot, but the basic assumption is that the resulting body is made up of the components physically transforming into a section of the body; classically you get at least five components, each one becoming the limbs and central body respectively; other variations may require far more components for an even larger and more powerful form, split up into many more minute divisions of body.

This is also the classic combiner form for mecha in general; Voltron being arguably the most iconic example, as the show itself is named for the titular combination (which is not an individual robot, at least normally, but is the combined form of the five lion mechs). Accordingly, its the fusion form that requires the least amount of work to make sense; with the others you must often incorporate magic or similar fantastical concepts, but a robot transforming into a new form can be considered a bit more plausible, if leaning towards the fantastical itself.

[spookyscarycreepydollgirl]

Warning: The following snippet contains; Minor mentions of blood and gore, some body horror, lots of arachnophobia triggers. Size difference. A shady fae creature on their best behaviour. Unspecified bargains with said shady fae creature. Some very dead monsters.

The face was familiar, though the size of it was not, nor was the number of eyes, the chelicerae protruding from his jawline, the sharpness of his canines or the number of arms. Speaking of his arms and indeed his limbs in general not only were they larger but proportionately they had elongated to the border of grotesque but merely the border as if Bastion were fighting to maintain some semblance of the illusion of humanity in her presence. That illusion was already well and truly lost, because the being before her was not merely huge and grotesquely proportioned but it’s movements were more like a spider than a man.

“Do not run Ida.” The creature cautioned, in that all too familiar, ever gentle voice, albeit this time with the disturbing addition of distorted reverberations, as though the same voice were overlapping with itself, just slightly out of sync and speaking at both higher and lower frequencies at intervals.

“If you run, I will most definitely chase you and I fear even with our agreement, I will not be able to control myself”

“Are you going to eat me Bastion?” She asked carefully, after all, when dealing with inhumanity, it never hurt to clarify, for all she knew he was simply warning her away from a more painful death, not warning her away from the prospect of death in its entirety, in which case, she was in fact going to have to run.

He laughed and despite the distortion there was something quite deprecating about it. “As much as I would love to, in this particular instance I am in fact trying to behave myself, come here Ida.”

Naturally she stayed where she was. He huffed at her. “Yes I realise it seems counterproductive, but please come to me” There was a note of desperation in his voice and after taking the correct amount of time to assess if this was a ploy, Ida took pity on him, moving towards the hulking thing before her, though even she wasn’t quite sure how she managed to cross the distance.

Multiple arms wrapped around her, the embrace was warm and oddly gentle but there was an undercurrent of strength to it and Ida held no illusions about her chances of breaking free should he not want her to. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and sighed. Honestly at this size he was a little heavy but the way he seemed to sag with relief as he held her, made her feel obliged to weather through it with dignity.

“Apologies Ida, I did not think they would be so brazen as to attack you while you were under my protection. It was terribly rude and I am quite upset with them.”

As she patted one of his arms in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Ida thought about the numerous dead monsters presently leaking blood and viscera onto the forest floor and concluded that The Spider Prince had a remarkable talent for understatement.

[comedyloser]

NO. NO. I’M NOT HOLDING IT BACK ANYMORE.

THEY AREN’T DESIGNED BUT I HAVE IN MY HEAD PLANNED OUT NINE 035 x 049 FANKIDS

AND I’M ABOUT TO EXPLAIN ALL OF THEM

BEFORE WE GET STARTED

1. I have no clue how they could have had kids it’s magic

2. Do not proceed reading if uncomfortable with the following concepts: DEATH, NEEDLES, DRUGS/overdose?/BODY HORROR/FEAR OF SURGERY OR THE DENTIST

3. Later Note: This is some au so I wouldn’t have to keep on character with 035 and 049 (this took me a couple of days to figure and type out which is why some things may not line up)

GENERAL NOTES

All kids are musically talented in some way

All kids are medically talented in some way

“AGE” is more of physical/mental appearance and in no way affects actual age (for now)

#1 - VIVO

Female, She/Her

Age: 21-22 (Young Adult)

Musical Talent: Dancing + Singing

Medical Talent: Immediate “Euthanasia” (Through Needle) (More of just Drug Overdose)

Apperance: VIVO appears as a humanoid figure (6’5/1’9) with a performing drama mask for a face. Instead of limited to two expressions such as comedy and tragedy, VIVO can move her face such as a normal person could move one’s own, minus pupils or the inside of a mouth. Eye and mouth holes secrete a black acid such as SCP-035 does except in certain light the acid appears to be swirls of different colors (ranging from red to purple across the rainbow with some mixing). VIVO’s face is composed just like a drama mask made of the same porcelain material and can crack, melt, or even break under circumstances.

Despite the face the rest of VIVO’s body appears human, minus the ability to create extra limbs (preferably arms) out of the same secreting acid (read above). When possessing said limbs, the hands if put in motions such as drumming and playing keys on a piano seem to mimic the sounds of what they are playing, despite no instrument being present. Creation of how said sounds are forming is unknown. As well as mimic instruments, if VIVO holds one hand on another entity and uses another hand in a puppet-mouth moving motion, VIVO can recreate said entity’s voice perfectly. Whether or not effect lasts once hand is removed is unknown.

VIVO can also euthanize people using an unknown liquid in a needle. Whether euthanization is affective on non-humans in unknown. Whether others can use the needle is unknown. Upon death, victims of said attack are unknown said victim has died. Victim believes they were “transported” to a black void, as well as being able to interact with others killed by VIVO’s attack. VIVO’s has been shown to bash in the heads of two security personal who were not shown to be present in the “void”. Whether VIVO is required to use the needle or it is by choice who goes in unknown. Whether personal are actually dying or being spiritually relocated is unknown.

Spirits of the deceased can be viewed with special lighting. No sound can be heard between the “void” and the world. Only form of communication is words written with a white chalk can be viewed in the corresponding location in the “void”. VIVO can leave it’s body and enter this “void” with full awareness of the current world and surroundings, but being able to interact with the deceased spirits. Usually using this chance and interaction to dance or perform. VIVO can then renter said body with no hesitation.

Sidenote: VIVO can sing in any range including pitches of which humans can not hear. This has caused multiple casualties such as when [REDACTED] as well as the death of — personal as well as — faculty members when [REDACTED].

VIVO was discovered —/—/2023 last out of the nine siblings performing in ————— on an abandoned stage. It claims it was “practicing” for a performance after having [REDACTED] in it’s last show. No record of said show has yet to be found. VIVO has shown no interest to escape containment. “Yet.”

#2 - FORTE

Male

Age: 15-16 (Teen)

Musical Talent: Rapping (Or deemed by VIVO, “useless”)

Medical Talent: Physician

Appearance: FORTE wears a traditional plague doctor’s uniform minus the traditional mask. Pupils are dark and black and teeth are pointed and yellow, eyes faded red. Leather gloves with a reinforced glass layer on the inside due to the fact most of his forearm as well as his hands are made up of a goopy corrosive black acid. Similar pattern due to boots on his feet. Most of FORTE’s front chest has been dissolved from the black corrosive acid leaving the rib cage exposed, despite majority of the inside chest cavity being empty, minus a few hanging blood vessels. No organs are visible from the outside. Upon sticking a hand into the area they can be felt, resulting with the removed hand completely dissolved just moments after being removed from the cavity. Feeling can not be detected any other way. Whether organs are actually there or feeling is being recreated some other way leaving an imprint on our brains through touch is up to determination.

When gloves are removed, FORTE has the ability to dissolve everything it touches, but prefers not to out fear. Minus his personality and insecurity with the gloves off FORTE is sassy and doesn’t listen. Constantly getting into arguments, sometimes purposely starting them, and will even cause fights.

However FORTE does understand every pill and drug known to man, able to recognize them without a label, including ones from other languages, and is able to know what they do. Often gives his “patients” a prescription with a note completed indecipherable minus the words “Dr.Deadman”. No record of such a person is yet to be found.

#3 - MEZZO

Male

Age: 13-14 (Young Teen)

Musical Talent: Piano

Medical Talent: “Professional” Surgeon (can successfully remove and replace organs with robotic made ones to “cure” patients)

Appearance: MEZZO has the appearance of a plague doctor as well as a hood and sometimes a small black top hat. Plague mask secrets a black acid with no noticeable corrosive properties. Mask is removable and reveals a humanoid figure under minus greasy curly black “hair” made from presumably the same material as the secretions. Eyes are a dark brown near black. Rest of figure is humanoid. Whether outfit is part of body or there is a body underneath is unknown.

MEZZO has the ability to swoon anybody into sleep, or a state of unconsciousness, and usually when the victim wakes up they are strapped down in an unknown room, similar to that of an ER. After waking, MEZZO will soon put them back to sleep before performing surgery to “cure” them. Often resulting in either complete death of the victim or reanimation due to replacements of organs with robotic parts MEZZO crafted. MEZZO only works with mask on and often does not remove it, may remove in some circumstances but never during operation.

#4 - CODA

Male

Age: 10-12 (Preteen)

Musical Talent: Drums

Medical Talent: Stitching

Appearance: CODA wears a completely removable plague mask, robe, and many tied ropes as well as many pieces composed from leather or fabrics fixed with sown-in parts from other fabrics. CODA’s body is completely composed of a black goop which is why it completely cover’s its body always to retain a form. CODA also always carries on hand (visibly) various sewing needles and always seems to have on hand what they need for stitches, fabric or body. Stitching pattern is unique and is not seen anywhere else. Sometimes when bored CODA will stick in Roman or Greek symbols into the skin of his “patients”. Victims of these words do not seem them despite being clearly visible and claim their “doctor did an amazing job”. Including times when they are forcefully woken up mid-procedure when blood is still leaking, they claim nothing is wrong. In cases where tissue is visible they have a small chance of visibly noticing it and freaking out, often leading to a dramatized overreaction and often resulting in death in some way.

Personality of CODA is unknown. Face of CODA is unknown. Voice of CODA is unknown, minus “patients” who claim to have talked to their “doctor,” yet are unable to explain what he sounded like.

#5 and #6 - OCTAVE and OCTET

Males, He/They Respectfully

Age: 7-9 (twins)

Musical Talent: Guitar and Violin (In that Order)

Medical Talent: Nurse’s Role

Appearance: OCTAVE and OCTET are two twins that despite their constant bickering are almost never seen separated. Both wear a robe like outfit with long excess sleeves and a hood tied together around the waist with a rope. Ends of robe and sleeves are tattered and either partially torn, each twin’s tears being the mirror opposite of the other’s. Both wear leather boots and gloves, as well as both wear a leather plague doctor’s mask (with goggles) and are almost never seen with it off. Both have identical faces and under circumstances can cause black liquid to drip from the eyes and mouth, sometimes nose.

Both when “treating” a victim, or “taking a patient into their care”, work together and act sweet and kind to the “patient”. Despite acting like everything is normal they use tools and perform actions that are traumatizing, injury resulting, and could be deadly. But their little act always ends with the victim passing out due to a blow to the head.

Minus the trauma, they would be great nurses. If put into a situation they have studied and know every way to care for a patient, including emergencies. But, that’s not fun. But making your own cure is.

#7 - VIVACE

Male

Age: 5-6 (Kid)

Musical Talent: Cymbols

Medical Talent: (Nightmare) Dentist

Appearance: VIVACE is around 4’ feet tall and takes parts of appearances from 1800’s-2000’s doctors. VIVACE wears a tattered robe with long arm-length gloves that the sleeve tucks into around the middle of the forearm as well as boots with pants underneath following a similar pattern, boots provide 2 inches to height. VIVACE’s robe has a hood that he always wears as well as a bird’s skull he wears over his face, with various small needles poked into it and a dark face mask. Face is not visible through holes and cracks in the bird skull as they appear to be solid black, despite light hitting it directly on. No object present is detected to be causing this complete blackout as a finger could be stuck through the skull’s eye sockets, which was discovered during testing and aggravated VIVACE which lead to [REDACTED].

VIVACE constantly carries with him various scalpels and dentistry tools as well as many shapes and sizes of needles, including small semi-transparent bottles filled with various liquids, none of which to be determined as known elements but react as if completely clean with no impurities.

VIVACE when bored will often practice on those around him, knowing what he does can hurt others whether intentional or not and will take this to his advantage. Such as demonstrated during a test where ————————— aggravated VIVACE every day for a week leading to [REDACTED] and all future tests postponed.

Sidenote: VIVACE has been seen using cymbals to bash people’s heads in. Whether this be for fun, out of pure spite, revenge, or some other motive is unknown.

VIVACE appears to be very mature for it’s age. Despite appearing only 5 VIVACE seems to have the smarts and knowledge of someone much older, such as a 12 year old, and possibly a mentality of someone even older.

Whether VIVACE is mature for age or is simply not as young as they look is unknown. No tests have come back positive for either as knowledge varies between topics yet personality does not seem to switch from straightforward and “in control” no matter what.

#8 - RUBATO

Male

Age: 4-5 (Kid)

Musical Talent: Flute

Medical Talent: Medicine Mixing

Appearance: Compared to the others, RUBATO wears a much more, oversized, scientist-like get-up. Including an oversized lab coat, plague mask, oversized strapped lab goggles, and much more. Yet retained a dark color theme like the rest of them.

RUBATO is chaotic and can hold its energetic nature and energy for days at a time without sleep, food, or water. It can sleep if it wants to, but refuses to eat. Upon forcing RUBATO to consume food test conducted [REDACTED] ending all future consumption of food or liquids.

Not much is yet to be discovered about RUBATO except for his chaotic nature and love for mixing things together. Including two or more types of liquid soaps to make “potions”.

Sidenote: When watching RUBATO mix —————, ——————, and —————— brand dish soaps together and forcefully having a D-Class with a sore throat drink it, she was magically cured. Upon recreating the same mixture with all the same parts results concluded unsuccessful.

#9 - JJ

Masculine

Age: 2-3 (Toddler)

Musical Talent: Tambourine

Medical Talent: UNKNOWN

Appearance: JJ is around 3’ feet tall, about 1 meter, and takes on an appearance similar to SCP-049. As a plague doctor. No noticeable different from a common plague doctor appearance except for the height, a small black top hat, a black liquid lightly seeping from the eye holes. The “mask” is a flexible skull part of JJ’s bone structure, similar to 049’s. The acid from the eyes does not seem to be corrosive, as much as 035’s at least.

JJ can barely walk and is often carried by others, as well as being very light for his size. (At least 2/3s lighter than he should be). Speech is limited and agility is limited to that similar of a small child’s.

Sidenote: Having been noted of JJ’s tambourine skills, personal asked JJ to hit out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. As to then VIVO responded, (having been present in the room to watch JJ), “Seriously? You need to give him something easier! Like the opening to [REDACTED].” To which JJ played flawlessly despite seeming more “complicated” to personal. Again JJ was asked to play “Baa Baa Black Sheep” to which showed no understanding of the pattern. But when asked to play [REDACTED] JJ showed no flaws in all three despite being deemed more complicated.

JJ was discovered —/—/2023 first out of the nine siblings. Such as when discovery began that said children even existed, to which when questioned SCP-035 and SCP-049 admitted to there being more. JJ has made numerous escapes outside of the facility, to which how is still unknown, and JJ does not seem to show it is fully aware of the scenario it is in. Both SCP-035 and SCP-049 seem to be in distress and even sometimes anger when learning JJ is not still under care in the facility. Resulting in 9 casualties as well as [REDACTED].

Other Notes/Bonus Notes

VIVACE and RUBATO often get into fights, into which VIVO takes command and gets them to get along (when present in room). If no authority (family) is present/“threatful” enough (035, VIVO, 049) to stop the bickering the two will continue to fight until [REDACTED]

VIVO will act cheery around her siblings but doesn’t show that same kind of emotion around others, being annoyed or even getting angry. The siblings all know about this too, so in events where she is angry infront of them they don’t get in her way.

VIVO sometimes pronounces words with an “ee” sound as “tee” // funny -> fun-te

JJ when upset or convinced something bad happened to one of his parents will have a tantrum with a blood curdling scream (but siblings are a matter to laugh at)

CODA often gets nosebleeds (somehow)

MEZZO can get pretty sassy at times and is one of the few kids to stand up to their parents

VIVO and FORTE often get into fights, usually resulting in the younger kids to learn a few new words, not necessarily for the better

[weirdfanfic]

Chapter 3, My Future Wife

London is a cold place to be, with no glimpse of the sun, men rushing to work, women cleaning their homes sending their little ones to beg for work or food. I was born lucky a Noble, the daughter of Phantomhive well known to be the queen's guard dog, I was no different so that's why I'm here in oversized pants and a torn dirty button shirt to blend in. There was multiple killing close to the poor side of London and I was assigned to see what was left. I understood I could go as myself and Scotland yard would let me in but my goal is to gain the trust of the people so they speak to me with ease. Arriving at the scene the body was already taken away and the scene was cleaned but it didn't mean there was no evidence left. The crime scene was inside an alleyway looking around I saw scratches on the wall it was clear it wasn't a human. It can be an animal that escapes its habitat or an early personal exotic animal. But the only way to find out is to gather clues.

I only arrived home late at night when I found the twins playing with my future husband or instead it was Ceil playing while Sirius was playing with their cousin Elizabeth. Ceil notices my present and runs towards me sending me a big hug I return by picking him up in my sore arms "Uncle Muzan was playing with me with my soldiers! It was so much fun can you play with us too?" Muzan met my gaze as I put Ceil down. "I'm a bit tired from working my dear why don't you go play with your brother for a bit while I talk to my fiance." The sentence was bittersweet as Muzan gave me a devious smirk "Come my darling let me take you to the game room so you can relax." with a smile I followed him to the game room.

"Your brother was looking for you, he was a bit worried about you." "He's always worried when I go out alone but I needed to do some things for my job,"  taking off my coat that hid my disguise and just fall on the couch sinking off the soft pillows of the hard day of finding clues the detective couldn't find it was hard but I found some hints and statements of witnesses saying it was some sort of beast... "Did you go to the murder scene from that tragedy at the Whitechapel? Rumors say that the killer ate the poor person when they were alive." "Yes, I was curious sadly I arrived too late the police already cleaned up the alleyway when I got there but I don't think it was a person that killed the people it just didn't make sense" I sighed snuggling close to the pillow. "I heard your brother took the case by the queen he looked excited." I lift my head to send him a deadly glare, of course, my brother will take the case but he has the advantage he can look at actual evidence when I have to scavenge for the scraps. "I can be much better than my brother if only they can give me a chance. Even the Queen assigned me to this case too, do you know how hard it is to gain evidence when everyone treats me as a fragile flower, 'You're a woman you should be taking care of your husband and kids.' " I mocked sitting up on the couch. "Why don't we play some chess while we discuss the situation I may be able to help you." Muzan holding the chest board believing I didn't see the smirk he was hiding.

Putting the board on the table makes the first move.

He moves his pawn to start the game

"I overheard your brother talking to a man with grey hair about the killer's move believing the person has an aim but I believe it is not the case, I checked your brother's evidence I noticed the people killed at random covered in their blood."

I move my pawn 

"Looks like someone was a bit curious and started putting their nose shouldn't be, according to the witnesses it was some sort of beast that killed the poor people male or female  but it is brutal mutilation of the body and some with missing limbs,"

He moves his knight 

"I may be able to help with catching this person, most of the crime scenes were done at the alleyway and the autopsy on your brother's desk revealed they were attacked around late to midnight I suggest be bait, and when he attacks hold him at gunpoint and take him to the nearest station. Your respect will be handed to you on a silver platter."

I move my bishop 

"Now where is that gentle Act the last time we met you were oh so gentle and kind are you finally showing your true nature to me? I'm so flattered."

He chuckled moving another pawn toward me

"I'll do anything for my future wife to make them happy is my new goal so why don't you go back and get the respect you deserve."

I captured his castle with my bishop giving a small smile waiting to make his move and taking his horse away.

"I'm growing bored with this game why don't you take your leave, I'll stay here to keep your brother distracted, I suggest you go back to the Whitechapel he kill most of his victims there, and good luck my dear."

I normally won't take sides with any of my brother's business partners but this one is different somehow. I am able my feeling how his crimson eyes give me the comfort of a rose but pain by their thorns, his voice smooth but strong like a snake waiting to strike, and his demeanor like a loin full of pride. But he's a coward with fear in his eyes, his voice stutters at the thought of losing and his demeanor is a disguise of the man he is.

But he can wait for his hints can help me with this case, I need to go back to Whitechapel and find the killer before more people get killed.

(A/N: Hey this is a bit new thing wanted to try out hope y'all like it see you next week. Also made a cheesy Y/N edit to)

[sstabhmontown]

What is a Hit Die? What is a Damage Die?

They are a unit of a character's ability to avoid death by whatever measure. Starting characters with 1 HD might have one fundamental chance to avoid it—a tumble or parry to take less of a blow, the grace of the lord. When you gain a new HD by going up level, consider naming the technique, practice, or gift that aids you, and call it by name when you need to spend the Hit Points.

When a character goes up level, we already ask them if they want to reroll all their dice, or to keep their current total and roll the new dice on top of it only when needed. That's the perfect time to introduce your new practice.

When a monster attacks, then, its damage is also measured in dice. If in doubt for how much damage the monster does, ask—how many things would someone in its grip have to do to avoid death? From my Bestiary:

Against monsters with great gnashing teeth, or massive strength and long arms, or a rolling boulder or great fall, no single movement will save you: such foes deal two or more dice of damage. For each die, the victim must make a separate excuse to avoid death: against a giant, parrying the blow is only half the play, and the character must roll aside as well. Only rare specific monsters may make multiple independently rolled attacks.

No pluses here for measuring small differences: if the attack is nastier, simply move it up a die, or declare it not damage but some other tactical result: swallow whole, paralysis, level drain. And of course, monsters get to attack again when they strike down a character, once for each hit die beyond the first.

Rejigging Giants

In OD&D there's essentially no notes about monsters damage, but a lot of confusion from the two combat systems. Greyhawk proposes some changes and in doing so creates even more confusion—with three possible systems presented: Chainmail Combat, Variable Weapon Damage, and the older Alternate Combat system with some modifications. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the Giants:

STORM GIANTS: These creatures are found only in out-of-the-way places. Typically their abode will be a castle built underwater or on a mountain or upon a cloud. They are intelligent, about 24' tall, and do 3 + 3 dice damage (unless the alternate damage system is used). These giants are able to employ a Control Weather spell in order to cause a storm—their favorite kind of weather—when angry or in battle.

If the alternate damage system is used, Storm Giants are quoted at 7–42 damage, falling back to the old unclear notation to boot. And that's listed separately from the older giants, of course. Our Bestiary used a lot of numbers from Swords & Wizardry Whitebox which imported these tables in all their glory, despite not by default using the alternate damage system, directly against the advice given—but only for the giants' stones, with other numbers for their blows. Woof.

So this is a problem to solve, and a perfect case study:

Hill Giants simply deal you a blow at an enormous scale. 2d6, and the same for Stone Giants.

Frost Giants' stones shatter and their frigid natures might slow your movements. Add a die to 3d6.

Fire Giants deal the same elemental splash, but you'll have to avoid the flames catching upon your own apparel. Add another die, 4d6.

Cloud Giants are simply enormous, even sprinting you'll be hard-pressed to escape their blow: 3d6.

Storm Giants, the same, but they throw actual Lightning Bolts like a wand.

Other examples:

Hatchling dragons have a simple bite for one die. Adult dragons wide mouths could sever a limb, and might come at you with great slashing claws too, two dice. Old dragons great jaws could swallow you whole, plus their tails and wings, ok, three dice.

Bears, Lions, and the like set the standard for mid-tier monsters at 2d6 for their size, demeanor, and multiple techniques. We can upgrade Ogres from an awkward plus in OD&D to two dice and bring trolls with all their varying appendages along.

Generally by mid-tier, monsters always deal two dice unless they have some other terrifying way to attack, like undead.

Multi-limbed monsters at high level can be treated in two ways: those defined by independent action like the Hydra or Kraken can make multiple attacks. Demons, made from numerous parts of other creatures and with plenty of other actions to take, can easily have dice added as appropriate for their limbs.

Masters of Fencing

Of course Player Characters are not monsters. They have their own systems for dealing more damage: Fighters get to roll a d8 at level 2, d10 at level 4, and d12 at level 7, as well as adding bonuses from Magic Swords and Strength. But other bonuses can be treated the same: Giants Strength and Flaming Swords already add another die.

When the players face off against other men and women, you then have a choice: it's fun to play by their rules sometimes, to roll the funny shaped dice in sword fights. But it's fussy too, so be quick to decide that a corrupt and cruel leader of men is in fact an Ogre and fall back to your 2d6.

The results of this place the game on a curve: at low level, combat is unpredictable as characters and their foes both miss often, but deal damage comparable to their own hit points with each blow. At mid levels, combat is specifically weighted against the players because most monsters deal more damage than them. Only at high level, when they have magic swords and mighty spells of Haste do the Fighters catch up, and indeed can stand toe-to-toe against giants.

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

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

Words: 4.3k

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

--------x--------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawks snorted immaturely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good. That showed the little bastards.

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

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

“Excuse me, sir?”

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

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

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

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

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

[ynscrazylife]

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist 

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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[ragingbookdragon]

When Will My Weight Be Too Much For You?

Barry Allen x Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6 Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Based off this ask right here! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Diana said this is the way to leave my grievance where you can hear it instead of straight from my mouth. I must deliver it this way because if I were to see you at this very moment, I would say things that would be improper of a princess and a partner in our relationship. Bartholomew, I do not say this lightly, but your unattendance to the unveiling of the museum exhibit has wounded my heart. You promised you would make it in time to see me reveal it to the world. I know you are busy, believe me I know, but I had asked you multiple times to check your schedule to clear it. Please wait for me to contact you again, it should be within the next few days. I would like to exert this potent emotion from mind and body before we meet once more. And though this event has occurred, please understand that my love for you has not changed. I still love you very much, Bartholomew Allen and I always shall. Farewell. End of message. To repeat, please press the pound key.

Barry banged his head on the desk as the message ended for the eighth time that night. He felt like such a fool. Such a bumbling, moronic fool. (Y/N)’d called him the day before and reminded him and he still forgot about the museum exhibit being unveiled today. He’d been so caught up in the labs that day that by the time he’d actually gotten a break, it was past three—four hours past the event.

So much for having super-speed. He’d been late. Again. And this time, he’d upset (Y/N) so much that she didn’t even want to see him for a few days. And Barry wasn’t sure what he was more upset about—missing the event and hurting her or hearing the devastation in her voice from the message. Whichever it was, it hurt Barry to the core. The type of hurt that made even his chest feel sore and his eyes sting. And all Barry could do was sit and wait, planning out how to make it up to her, and hope that she still wanted to be with him after.

***

(Y/N) hefted the javelin by her head, cocking it back as far as she could before she threw it with all her might, taking out an entire tree in the backyard of Wayne Manor. It’d been four days since the museum event, four days since Barry hadn’t showed, and four days since she’d called in sick, instead of being at home, being at Wayne Manor. Oddly enough, it was the one place she could work out her emotion—there seemed to be no end to criminals and Bruce’s family didn’t seem too particularly bothered by an Amazon being present or watching her break the Joker’s legs—they enjoyed that.

With a heavy sigh, she collapsed into the grass, gazing up at the sky as she let her limbs sprawl out. She wasn’t angry or upset with Barry anymore. Well, there was a little annoyance, but the majority had been worked out. All that was left was the feeling in her chest that made her sigh all the time—exasperation. Barry was the greatest man alive, probably better than Clark Kent, but Gods if he wasn’t the latest man alive too. He was always late

Another puff of air escaped her, and she closed her eyes as the grass crunched near her. “Have you come to gloat?”

Someone chuckled. “You’ve been out here since four AM, (Y/N). Aren’t you tired?”

“Not particularly, Bruce.” She returned, cracking one eye open to see him dressed in his suit; he’d probably just gotten back from work. “Are you going on patrol soon?”

Bruce glanced at his watch. “It’s a quarter to six. Sun’s going down. I’m going to get ready.”

(Y/N) nodded, starting to rise. “Then I shall get ready too.”

“Actually, (Y/N), I think you should go back to Central City.”

She paused, looking down at him—though their height wasn’t much different, a few inches give or take—and asked, “Have I overstayed my welcome? I apologize if I have.”

He shook his head. “Never.” Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “But I think you should go home and talk to Barry.”

An eyebrow arched on her head, though her heart was fluttering at the mention of Central City being home. “Why?” she was genuinely curious, or perhaps suspicious of his answer. It seemed like he wanted her to talk to Barry more than he wanted her to leave.

“Because Barry Allen is moping so much during League meetings that it makes me look cheerful,” Bruce scowled. “I’m sick of seeing the poor man so distraught over his mistake.”

(Y/N) frowned. “My intentions were not to cause such distress, I just—”

“You left him a voicemail that practically tore his heart out.”

“I just—” she stopped, gaping at him. “How did you know?”

Bruce blinked. “That’s not important. What is important is that you go home to your boyfriend and tell him you love him and that you’re not angry anymore.” He shifted his hands, grabbing her face gently but firmly. “For the love of God, (Y/N), please, forgive the poor bastard.”

(Y/N), with a pinched face, looked down on the man and grunted, “If you wish to keep your hands, I suggest you remove them. Now.”

“Just go home. Please,” Bruce griped, pulling away from her. “I’m so sick of looking at Barry moping like a lovesick drunkard.”

She waved in defeat. “I shall back my bag.”

Suddenly, her duffel bag was in her face. “Already packed,” he said. “Go home.”

“I am feeling the love,” (Y/N) laughed, tugging the tight strap over her body, and rose into the sky. “Until we see one another again, my dear friend.”

Bruce waved as flew off. “See you around, Vanguard.”

***

By the time she’d returned to Central City, it was well into the night, quite possibly the early hours of the morning. The city was asleep, few cars were on the road and even fewer skyscrapers were lit up with company. (Y/N) slipped into the apartment through the bedroom window, too lazy to walk up the six flights of stairs and through the front door like she knew she should, but no one was watching, so who cared?

Apparently, Barry did, because the moment her second foot touched the floor, she was being yanked to the ground, faster than she could realize what was happening. She thrashed beneath the weight pinning her to the floor, one hand wrapping around Barry’s wrist, the other his throat as she cocked one of her legs up underneath his pelvis and to her chest, shoving at him.

Tipping their weight, he went down, and she flipped atop him, then shifted her hand to grab his other wrist, holding them both beside his head.

“Peace Barry!” she comforted firmly. “It is me, (Y/N).”

Barry stopped squirming, blinking in the darkness. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes,” she answered, letting him go so she could reach up and flick the night-side lamp on. The room was illuminated with soft yellow glow, and she glanced down at him with an easy smile. “I cannot imagine how you heard me. I was dead silent coming inside.”

He blinked. “I was awake and rolled over. All I saw was someone in the bedroom.” Barry reached up, cupping her cheek. “You’re home.”

(Y/N) leaned down, brushing her nose against his. “I am home.” Smiling sadly, she added, “And sorry I left like I did…and for making you hurt. I hope you can forgive me, Barry. I should have acted maturely and not run from my problem like a child.”

“No-no-no-no,” he worried, sitting up, taking her with him. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“But I—”

Barry shook his head, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “I broke my promise to you, (Y/N). You reacting how you did was understandable.”

“Perhaps to a human,” she argued. “But not for a princess. And especially one of Themyscira.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to hers. “It was just a museum exhibit, Barry. You are more important to me than pieces of history.”

His blue eyes were bright even in the dull light and his smile was as wide as a mile. “I love you, (Y/N).”

She matched his smile. “I love you more, Barry Allen.”

“Well, I love you most,” he countered, and she giggled, shaking her head.

“Impossible,” she bantered. “My love for you knows no bounds.”

“Oh yeah?” he bet, wrapping one arm around her waist, whilst the other fumbled for the bedside, rising to his feet. “Hmm, my love is eternal.” He turned, (Y/N) sinking into the mattress as he climbed onto the bed, looking at her.

An evil smirk crossed her lips and Barry’s body flushed with heat as his cheeks darkened, and before he could even blink, he was being flipped, staring up as she gazed down at him. “H-honey,” he stuttered as her fingers deftly undid the buttons of his pajama shirt, spreading it open to reveal his toned chest. He really flushed when she bent down and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, ebbing upwards to his throat, only leaving a trail of crimson love bites in her wake.

“Your love is eternal, hmm?” she cooed against his skin, heatedly kissing along his jaw to whisper in his ear. “Prove it to me.”

[let-them-read-fics]

What Could've Been

Requested By Anon: "pls do a rosé or jennie imagine where the reader is into them but they just keep rejecting her. then they just cross the line one day and say hurtful things to y/n so the reader just ended up stopped pursuing them. then someone else (could be the other rosé or jennie also of yk what i mean) became interested in y/n and they get all petty and jealous yk djajdua,, COULD BE ANY ENDING HFHSHAU I'M JUST A REAL SUCKER FOR IMAGINES LIKE THIS TYSM"

Pairing: Love Triangle -- Jennie x Fem!Reader and Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,333

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Rejection, Crying, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: ⚠️ Important ⚠️ Class, gather round -- we have some things to discuss. I'm not angry, just... disappointed. *dramatic music*

First off, I want to address something with asks: as I've stated before, there's no certain amount of time that any one request will take me. Sometimes I'm more inspired by one than others, and sometimes I legitimately lack the time or brainpower to write a piece that holds true to my standards.

Please, refrain from messaging me multiple times about a request. Once is fine, especially if it's been awhile since you first asked, but I'm doing my best to give you starving fans the content you wish to see, and that takes time.

To those of you who continue to be patient with me: I sincerely appreciate it.

Secondly, I hope you enjoy this. ♡ Happy Reading ♡

PS ~ Anon, I still love you. Now enjoy this fic or you're grounded.

PPS ~ It gets better as it goes on

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Thank you," you politely say to your driver, handing him some money before stepping out of the sleek black car and onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of your shoes crunch lightly as they come in contact with the concrete, steadily announcing your course towards the performance hall. 

You let out a breath as you stand in the elevator, alone with your thoughts in the small space as it ascends. 

Your hands nervously palm the fresh bouquets of flowers you purchased on your way here -- the girls just finished a comeback stage, so you've decided to surprise them and show your love. You spent time picking out a personalized batch for each of them, making sure to mix their favorite colors and types, but you went even further for Rosé: you hand picked a larger, special array, choosing them based on their meaning and how much you think she'll appreciate them. Over the years, you've made sure to note her favorite ones; that came in handy tonight, and the florist assisting you definitely appreciated your attention to detail. 

Too chicken to go to her first, you decide to bring the other girls their gifts now and save Rosie for last. All of them are unwinding independently in their dressing rooms right now, enjoying some much needed alone time before coming back together later to celebrate. 

"Jisoo-yah!" You sing-song, rapping lightly on the door. It's slightly ajar, but you still knock out of respect for her privacy. 

In an instant, the door swings open to reveal a very happy unnie. "Y/N! I've missed you!" She nearly shouts, pulling you in for an eager hug. A surprised noise leaves her lips as her hands come in contact with the bundle behind your back, crinkling the plastic slightly in her excited state. 

"I got you a present," you say, smiling softly. Jisoo can feel the way your cheeks raise up, brushing against the skin of her neck as your head rests there, and her heart melts. After pulling out of the embrace, she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well? Let me see!" You do as she asks with a chuckle, pulling her bunch out of the hold of the rubber band that's keeping them all together. "I got your favorite." You grin, sticking them out for her to see. Her eyes widen at the sight, and she's touched by the kind gesture. Flowers aren't particularly unique in terms of what companies and fans send them, but seeing the effort you put in makes it incredibly special. She couldn't be happier. 

"Y/N, you're the best." She presses a small kiss to your cheek as a thank you, and invites you in right after. Jisoo considers you to be one of the closest friends she has, so being apart hasn't been easy on her. You're the only person she's okay with venting and crying in front of, and she's been needing that lately. Sensing this, you pull a chair up to her vanity and let her fill you in on all the mayhem you missed out on during your time away, holding her hand for reassurance. When she gets a little frustrated, you rub her back gently, telling her to take her time. 

Jisoo is beyond thankful for you, and that becomes more and more apparent the closer you two get. Times like these hold a special place in her heart and remind her of why she loves you so much. You truly are a great friend to have, and there's no one she'd rather have in her corner. 

----

"Incoming! 3...2...1…" You call out, standing in front of Lisa's door, ready to knock it down and barge in. The greeting is an inside joke between the two of you, though neither of you know where its origins lie. 

"Yah! Hold on!" She shouts, nearly tripping and falling from how quick she rushes to the door. You laugh at the sounds of chaos coming from inside, wincing slightly when a thud rings out. Hair slightly disheveled, she opens the door with a huff. "This had better be good, because I almost died." 

Wordlessly, you reveal her present and smirk as the halfhearted scowl on her face disappears completely, giving way to a dopey grin. "You remembered?" She asks quietly, running her fingers over the petals of her all-time favorite flower. The fact that she sounds so shocked makes you sad -- not many people take enough time to notice the little things. They'd rather focus on profiting off of the girls' talents than actually caring enough to get to know them. 

"Of course I did, Lisa. You're one of my best friends; how could I forget?" The maknae pulls you in for a meaningful hug, allowing the gesture to tell you all the things she doesn't know how to express. She's not always the best with her words, but she makes up for it with her actions. 

"I really love you, dork. You know that?" She asks as she pulls away, ruffling your hair lightly. She cracks that smile that seems to make the world stop, and you just shake your head. 

"You'd better. Your flowers were the most expensive!" You tease, dodging her when she reaches out to grab you for that one. 

"Get back here!" She shouts, chasing you down the hall like a 5 year old, planning to get her revenge. 

---

"Jendeukie, open up!" You squeal, pounding on her door while throwing a look over your shoulder. Lisa is dangerously close, ready to tackle you as she continues charging down the hall. 

"Y/N?!" She exclaims from the other side of the door, clearly not expecting you to be here. 

"Hurry!" You can hear footsteps eagerly rushing towards the door, and just as she opens it, disaster strikes. 

Lisa's arms wrap around your waist, pushing you forward and right into Jennie. The three of you fall into her dressing room in a messy heap, limbs splayed in various positions as you yell together on the way down. You manage to keep the flowers out of harm's way, thankfully, and your arm remains stuck out just in case Lisa tries anything else. 

"Hello to you, too, Y/N." Jennie groans with a chuckle, the words coming out a little strained from all the weight on her. Lisa stands first, pulling you up right after, and you turn to help your best friend up as well. 

"I sure know how to make an entrance, huh?" Your lopsided grin makes Jennie weak in the knees, much like it has ever since she met you all those years ago, and she has to fight to contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. After bantering with Lisa for a few more moments you eventually push her out of the room, shoo-ing her back to her own in order to give yourself some one-on-one time with Jennie. 

You stick your tongue out at the maknae one final time before shutting the door and turning around, finding a very soft looking Jennie peering back at you. Her cheeks are pulled back in her signature gummy smile, and the fluffy sleeves of her Chanel sweater engulf her small hands as she cradles her face in them. 

Perhaps, if circumstances were different, you'd be hopelessly pining for this 5'4" angel instead of Rosé. Love knows no logic, though, and you're stuck chasing after a certain Australian beauty that never seems capable of giving you the time of day.

"I missed you," she pouts, pursing her lips adorably as she steps forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull her in and pick her up with a spin, smiling into her neck when she giggles in your ear. 

"Well, I'm here now. And luckily for you…." you start, allowing for some anticipation to build, "I come bearing gifts. Well, a gift. Singular." Jennie chuckles at your rambling -- it's one of the traits she finds most endearing about you, and she always hates it when people cut you down for it. It's adorable in every way. 

"Oh?" She asks, intrigued as she raises an eyebrow -- she's keeping the act up for you, of course, too fond of the cute smile on your face to tell you that she already knows what it is. You hand over the flowers with a little jig, too excited by how happy she looks to contain yourself. 

"They're beautiful, Y/N." She stops herself from adding a, "just like you," to the end of the phrase, wishing she was able to say things like that. You deserve to be reminded of how special you are everyday, and she knows her bandmate fails to do so. 

"So, what've you been up to?" You amble over to the couch that's tucked away in the corner of her dressing room, plopping down onto the cushions with a small bounce. Rosé's flowers lay beside you, and Jennie eyes them. 

"Same old, same old," she says, finally looking back at you with a tiny grin. "Practice for the comeback has kept us really busy lately, and somebody hasn't been there to tell us jokes at 3AM and keep us going." She playfully rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. 

"My most sincere apologies," you hold a hand over your heart in mock regret, bowing your head with closed eyes. "On the bright side, though, I'm back in town for next month or two. I finished the business deals we had to handle abroad, so now I'm all yours." 

She knows you didn't mean hers, but that doesn't stop her from pretending. 

A happy noise of approval slips past her lips, and she claps excitedly. The sight reminds you of some of the childhood videos she's shown you, the two looking eerily similar to one another. No matter what may happen in her life, Jennie will most certainly remain that innocent young girl at heart, getting scared by everything that moves and loving with her all. She's an amazing person to know, and part of you feels sorry for everyone who'll never get the privilege of knowing her personally -- after all, everyone deserves a Jennie Kim in their lives. 

"Are you celebrating with us later?" She asks from in front of her mirror, now brushing her hair to busy herself. She runs the risk of making her feelings too obvious if she doesn't keep herself occupied. 

"I was planning to, yes. But that might depend on Rosé." You inform with a nervous chuckle, an anxious smile playing on your lips. When you look up and find her brows furrowed, you elaborate. 

"I'm gonna try to ask her out today when I bring her these flowers." You lightly chew your bottom lip out of habit, rubbing your hands together. The mere thought of such a task is daunting, especially with your not-so-perfect track record when it comes to her. You still try to cling to what little hope you have squirreled away in your heart, wishing with all your power that your sweet present will convince Rosé to at least give you a chance. 

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the way that Jennie's face falls. Her heart is breaking in silence, splintering into pieces far too small to put back together. She knew this day would come eventually, given that you're a determined person and head over heels for Rosé, but that doesn't mean she was prepared to find out like this. The lovesick glimmer in your eye hurts Jennie even more, knowing that you're probably imagining what it would be like for her to say yes to you. This whole time, Rosé has been stringing you along -- giving you just enough hope to keep coming back to her, using your devoted acts of kindness selfishly -- and Jennie would do anything to make you see that. You don't deserve what she puts you through. 

"...Earth to Jennie!"

The brunette snaps back to reality and clears her throat, attempting to gather her thoughts again. 

"Sorry, just got lost there for a second." She says, looking back into your eyes after a moment. A curious look plays in them, and she can practically see you debating on whether or not to question her further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when you accept her answer, choosing instead to smile at her. 

"It's alright. But what's not alright, is that I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and you haven't come over to cuddle me. I mean seriously, a girl's gone for forever and her best friend doesn't bombard her with love?" You shake your head with an amused smile, throwing your hands in the air. 

Oh, the things she would do to change that title. 

Successfully suppressing the pang of longing that runs through her, Jennie quips back, "A month and a half is hardly forever, Y/N." 

"It felt like it, though. I missed seeing you." 

She finds you pouting, your arms folded across your chest like a toddler, and her heart melts. Any amount of time without you is too long for Jennie's liking, and she's happy to know you missed her as well. 

"Fine, I guess I can spare some cuddles." She pretends to be put out as she approaches you, really playing the part by huffing and looking uninterested. Inside, though, she's celebrating. She can't wait to hold you close again, even if it may lead to her hurting herself with the what-ifs and scenarios that play in her mind. 

"Yay!" You shout, pulling her into your lap before laying your head on her shoulder. Her heart beats rapidly at the proximity, and she prays to every higher power in existence that you don't notice it. 

She relaxes after a moment, releasing the tension from her muscles as she sinks into your embrace. It's warm and comforting, and she never wants you to let go. Her head rests on top of yours, and she's content just running her hands through your hair, feeling your calm breaths against her skin. 

She's so in love it hurts. 

-----

This'll convince her, you whisper to yourself, attempting to sound confident -- key word: attempting. If there's one thing you know about Rosé, it's that she loves to be difficult with you. You caught feelings for her years ago when you were first introduced to each other at a company event, and ever since then you've done nice things for her nonstop, hoping that she'd fall for you with time. The longer you wait, though, the more discouraged you get. Regardless, those times that she appreciates your efforts make up for all the rest, and you'd gladly take 100 instances of the "bad" in order to have even just one of the "good". 

After taking a deep breath, you knock on the door a couple times.

A sigh can be heard, sounding like a complete 180 from the reactions of the other girls. The subsequent footsteps are heavy -- like she's dragging her feet, not even wanting to get up in the first place -- and they work to dishearten you a bit. Nevertheless, you imagine how happy she'll be when she sees the surprise, and a small smile makes its ways onto your lips. All you want to do is brighten her day, if only for a moment. 

An indifferent expression rests on her face when she first opens the door, likely expecting someone else to be standing in your place. Not much changes when she realizes it's you, though a sliver of a smile does quirk up at the corner of her lips. 

"Hiya Rosie," you greet sweetly, unable to contain how wide your smile grows at seeing her again. She makes you feel like a giddy school girl, and you can't decide if you love it or hate it. 

"What's up?" She asks, more out of common courtesy than anything else. Her body leans against the doorframe, her left arm resting behind the door. She didn't throw it open or invite you in like the other girls, so that tells you that she probably doesn't want visitors. 

When you take too long to answer, she asks dryly, "Are you just gonna stare at me?" Her voice is laced with a slight undertone of annoyance -- one that makes you shrink down a bit. You can practically hear how exhausted she is, and part of you feels bad for disturbing her with your presence. 

"N-no, sorry." You curse yourself for looking like a fool. "I got you something that I think you'll enjoy." Her eyebrows raise slightly and you can tell she's intrigued, even if she may try to deny it. 

"Here." You declare, nervously fixing the plastic as you hold the bundle in front of you. You want it to look perfect for her. 

"I, uh, hand picked it." 

"Thank you, it's lovely." She says politely, taking them from you and bringing them up to her nose. She admires the gentle, pleasant scent of them, and smiles appreciatively at you.

You blush under her gaze, slightly tripping over your words as you respond, "Of course, I'm glad you like it." 

Now, the part you dread: when the conversation dwindles down, threatening to end entirely unless you step up to keep it going. 

"Well, how've you been?" You cringe at the overused question, but you're willing to employ it in order to hear her sweet voice for a little longer. 

"Look, Y/N, I really appreciate the gift and all, and I'm really happy to see you again, but I don't feel like talking right now. I just want to enjoy myself for a little bit." Her denial makes you scrunch your face up, embarrassed beyond belief as her words sink in. You should've known that flowers wouldn't suffice. Perhaps that last line stung the most -- you try not to read too far into it, but the idea that she doesn't enjoy herself when talking to you nags at your heart. 

"Yeah, yeah. For sure." You scratch the back of your neck, awkwardly taking a step away from her door and back into the hallway. 

"I'll see you at the get together later though, right?" You ask, kicking yourself when you realize how hopeful you sounded. You have to get better at hiding it. 

"Sure," she nods, sending you a smile and little wave before saying goodbye and shutting the door. 

Well, that was a bust. Damn. Back to the drawing board, it is -- though your ego will need a few hours to recover. 

---

"Lisa, I swear to god, if you come near me with that I'll punt you across this room." 

Your very serious, totally-not-exaggerated warning evidently worked against you, because the maknae soon raises her head to look at you, grinning like a maniac. Frosting from the cake she just messily cut into covers her hands, looking threatening as she wiggles them at you. 

"I mean in!" You shout as a last resort, slowly backing away. You accidently bump into Jennie in the process, but you fail to realize that it was part of the plan all along: she and Lisa are in cahoots. When the maknae lunges, swiftly striding across the room towards you, you attempt to move out of her path and get somewhere safer. Steady hands on your waist keep you anchored in place, though, and you try to fight them. 

"Jennie?! Let me go, she's right there!" You squeal, trying to pry her fingers off of your hips one by one. She merely laughs, whispering a sorry into your ear right before Lisa's hands run across your cheeks and neck. You squirm, leaning further back against Jennie to evade the younger girl as she does her worst. 

Now, practically having a face mask of frosting, you step away from the girls and glare at them. 

"Bullies, I tell you." You say to Jisoo, groaning when she busts out laughing. It doesn't take a genius to know that you look a mess, and you'd probably laugh at yourself if the roles were reversed. The others soon join in, and a chorus of belly laughs fill the air around you. 

"Go ahead, laugh it up," you tell the girls, nodding your head, "Just wait til I get my revenge. I'm coming for you, Manoban." You point a finger at her as you exit the room, grinning when you hear the oooo's that they let out at your threat, and you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway before you.

On your way back, you hear Rosé's voice filtering in from one of the lounge rooms that branch off of the main corridor. Intrigued, you stop walking and listen in. 

Big mistake. 

Your ears perk up when you hear your name roll off her tongue, though her subsequent sentences crush your spirits. 

"...I know, right? She's honestly so annoying. Like earlier, I was finally getting cozy after our performance and then she just showed up."

Too shocked to leave now, you stay where you are and try not to let her words hurt you too much. She listens to the person on the other end of the line, laughing at something they said. That sound -- one you’ve grown to love more than anything else in the world -- is turning into something you hate. It feels like she's laughing at you; which, in hindsight, she probably is. 

"Exactly! She had flowers for me, as if I don't get those almost everyday already, and I guess she really thought that that would win me over. It was sweet but, c'mon, you know?"

Every insecurity you have is nagging at you, and you can't stop the few tears that roll down your cheeks at her brutal honesty. She's really hurting your feelings, and you can't help but want to call her out for it. So, you do just that: you step into the open room, one that lacks an actual door, and say, "Next time you wanna talk shit about someone, maybe you should make sure they're not around to hear it." 

Her smile falters slightly, and she spins around to face you. A hint of guilt plays on her features, but you're sure it's only because she got caught -- she definitely meant everything she said. 

"Y/N--"

You don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. Her change of behavior surprised you, and you can't trust that she's even sorry for it. 

Your pace quickens as you hear her voice become clearer -- she's in the doorway now, calling after you, but you don't even turn around. The salt of your tears greets your tongue, and you're once again reminded to wipe your face as you rush down the hall, rounding a couple corners and darting past countless doors on your way. You just want to get out of this place and be alone. 

A new voice slows your strides as it greets your ears, feeling like a security blanket in its gentleness. It's Jennie. "Y/N? Why are you crying?" She came to look for you when you took too long to return from the bathroom. 

You're far too embarrassed to look at her, so you simply sniffle and raise a hand up in her direction. "Don't worry about me, Jen. It's not important." 

"Hey, yes it is. You're upset and that matters." She steps towards you, saying the words that you had no idea you needed to hear so badly. Your heart aches, still shocked by the fact that Rosé would say such things about you. You thought you were friends, if nothing else, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now. 

When you don't move away, Jennie takes that as a sign to bring you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. The kind act hurts your heart more for some reason, and you want to pull away. Jennie senses this and decides to rub soothing circles on your back, her warm embrace comforting you as she says, "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but I'm right here. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, either, but please don't leave like this. I hate to see you upset." 

Something about the way she's holding you, so close and tenderly, is comforting beyond belief and you can't find the desire to leave anymore. 

"Can we at least go to your dressing room? I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on." 

Sweet phrases of reassurance are whispered to you as she leads you away, keeping you safe from prying eyes the entire time. Jisoo appears in the doorway of the party room, raising a concerned brow when she sees the two of you approaching. Jennie shakes her head at the unnie before she can utter a word, giving her a silent answer as she uses her eyes to communicate what's happening. Jisoo eventually understands, and she offers a sympathetic nod when you pass by.  

-------

7 Months Later

"Hey Jennie, do you think you can go answer the door? I'd do it myself, but…" Jisoo trails off, glancing down at the bowl of partially mixed dough that sits in front of her on the counter. Her hands continue to knead the mixture as she looks up at the younger girl, subtly sighing in relief when she agrees. 

There's more than one reason behind having Jennie be the one to answer it. 

The brunette grabs a pen as she pads her way over to the door, ready to sign for a delivery package -- that's usually the only thing they get at the dorm, considering guests are discouraged for the most part. Screw YG and their rules. 

Being a bit clumsy, Jennie accidently knocks her phone out of her own hand as she opens the door, muttering out a quiet “shit” as she bends down to retrieve it. Her eyes trail over to the stylish boots that set just a few feet away, and her breath hitches. 

"Hi baby." You greet with that healing smile that she's missed so much, peering down at her with a look in your eye that makes her heart trip and stumble over itself. 

"Y/N!" She shrieks, jumping up from the ground and right into your arms. 

"Uumph--" you let out in surprise, making sure to catch her and prevent her from falling. Ever since you two began dating a few months ago, leaving has become harder and harder. Jennie is beyond thrilled to have you back again, and she tries not to think about the next business trip you'll have to take. It's a methodical rhythm -- a month or two abroad and the same amount back home, then you're left to repeat the cycle over and over. Both of you hate it, and you'd much rather spend all your time with her instead. After all, ever since the incident with Rosé all that time ago, Jennie has steadily worked her way into your heart and become someone you can't live without. You were close before, but you've reached a new level now -- and that's about the only thing you can thank Rosé for. By hurting you and showing you how little she cared, she effectively pushed you right into Jennie's waiting arms.

"I'm so happy you're home." She says with a sigh, truly grateful to have you in her arms again. You wrap your arms tighter around her waist and sway a little bit, both of you content with just holding each other for a while longer. The weather outside is dazzlingly perfect; signs of summer apparent in everything around you. Birds chirp their looping songs as they fly through the air, feeling the sun's gentle heat on their wings all the while. 

You move your head enough to be level with hers, bringing her in for a long-overdue kiss. She smiles into it, cupping your cheek with one of her hands as she languidly moves to deepen it. 

Rosé should've stayed in her room. She should've ignored her stomach's incessant grumbling for a snack; but she didn't. 

She gave in, and now she's stuck, rooted in place as she watches Jennie kiss you, the one that got away. It's like watching a train wreck: she can't look away, and part of her psyche knows she deserves this. The apple in her hands is the only thing working to distract her, and she grips it tightly within her clutch to comfort herself. You look good -- so good -- and Rosé doesn't know whether to be happy or not. She knows she didn't treat you right -- then or ever -- but for some selfish reason that she doesn't dare give voice to, she wants you to still be hurting. She wants you to be suffering like she is now, crying into your pillowcase at night when she crosses your mind. She wants you to miss the good times, though there may not have been enough of them, and she wants you to want her again. 

You've turned the tables on her, and she doesn't know how to cope. 

She realized what she had once it was gone -- once you were gone, too busy falling in love with Jennie to pay her any mind anymore. She misses how devoted you were to her and how much care you put into everything you did; she misses the consistency that you offered; she misses every sweet thing you ever did for her. Hell, she even misses hearing you ramble and seeing you blush when all she did was smile at you. 

But you're gone now, destined to be with her member when all she wants is another chance. She'll never get it, certainly not after everything she's put you through, and she resents herself for treating you so badly. All you ever did was care, and she was too self-centered to give a crap. 

She deserves this. She deserves to see you happy with Jennie, happy in a way she could never make you. For you, she deserves to hurt; to silently cry in her room when she hears the two of you on call, laughing about whatever new thing you experienced that day. Because it wasn't just the one instance of pain she inflicted on you; it wasn't just that one night at the performance hall -- it was a steady build up of rejection and half-assed excuses, and even she can't blame you for getting tired of it. She wishes she hadn't been so stupid to deny you. 

What's worse is that she's actually fallen for you now; she imagines what could've been, what would've been, had she given you an honest chance. She's never tried to deny how gorgeous you are -- that's a given -- but now you're bruisingly beautiful, shining with the happiness that Jennie's worked hard to instill in you again. Shining with the love you hold for that 5'4" angel. 

Maybe, if circumstances were different, you'd be in Rosé's arms right now. Perhaps in another life. 

---

"Do you want to come in? Jisoo's working on some dessert for the lunch we just made. We can heat you up a plate in the meantime…" Jennie trails off, hoping to persuade you. She knows it's risky, considering the tension that feels almost tangible anytime the three of you are together, but she doesn't want to let you go so soon. 

"I don't know…" The uncertainty in your voice is clear, and Jennie watches as a slight grimace crosses your features when you look past her and into the dorm. Luckily Rosé had already found the will power to move to the dining room, so you're spared from seeing her just yet. 

"If things get weird or uncomfy we'll leave, okay? I promise." She says, knowing she's convinced you once you give her a little nod. 

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because I missed Jisoo's cooking." A playful glint shimmers in your eye as you quirk your head to the side, teasing her. 

"Hey!" She groans, pushing your shoulder as the two of you walk down the little concrete path that leads to the front door. "I'm kidding! I missed Lisa's jokes, too." 

You laugh at the gasp she lets out, and you make sure to turn around and press a kiss to her temple to stop her from pouting. 

--

"So, Y/N, where did you go this time?" Jisoo asks, leaning against the marble island of the kitchen as she pops a piece of tanghulu in her mouth. The crack of the sugary coating pulls your attention away from Rosé, where it had momentarily been -- she looks awful. Bags rest underneath her eyes, her normally vibrant features crestfallen now as her gaze scans across the food on her plate. 

You look at Jisoo as you answer her. "The states. We worked with some local companies and small businesses to get more promotional material out in front of people. It's actually pretty amazing, guys -- you're blowing up over there. They love you." The girls smile at your words, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell within themselves. Back when they were trainees they never imagined that they'd end up this far, and yet here they are, seeing their dreams come true, day after day. 

You're just happy to be along for the ride. It's not easy by any means -- people often crack under the pressure and get discouraged by the hustle and bustle of everything that such a major operation entails -- but you've never been more thankful for a position in your life. 

"As they should," Lisa smirks, looking self-assured with the little cocky motion she does. You almost choke on the piece of food you just stuffed in your mouth, laughing at how ridiculous she looks. 

After successfully not dying, you look at her and shake your head. "Lisa, what is wrong with you?" She puts on her infamous meme face, pretending to be shocked by your question, and you cackle again. The sound makes Rosé jealous; she wishes she were the one making you laugh like that. 

Another hour or so passes with the 5 of you just relaxing and snacking together at the table, taking turns trading stories and jokes in the meantime. After finishing your dessert and complimenting the unnie's cooking skills, you make your way towards the kitchen with a groan of, "I'm so full" thrown over your shoulder. 

You begin washing the dishes, finding it only fitting seeing as they spent all that time preparing such a good meal. It's the least you can do. A smile tugs at your cheeks when you hear the door open, followed by light footfalls against the hardwood. Jennie. 

Warm arms snake around your waist as she hugs you from behind, resting her cheek against your back. Your brows furrow when you notice an unusual thing -- either Jennie grew a few inches in the last 5 minutes, or someone else is holding you. Their cheek reaches a place Jennie isn't tall enough to, and it all hits you.

It's Rosé. 

You go to shut the water off and step away, but the sounds of her quiet sniffles give you pause. "Please don't." She whispers into your shirt, bunching the material up within her fingers against your stomach. A pang of sadness pulls against your heart strings, the long forgotten feeling reignited by the waver in her voice. "Rosé," you start with a sigh, ready to launch into the practiced speech of how happy you are with Jennie now and how you've moved on. She tugs at your shirt, slowly turning you around, and you can't find it in yourself to break her heart even further in this moment. Her eyes are filled with what tears have yet to stream down her face, brimming with the salty liquid you hate to see. 

Even after everything, you can't stand to see her cry. 

So, perhaps stupidly, you allow her to lean forward and rest her head against your chest; you let her fall into your arms, sinking into the embrace she never intended to miss so much. 

It was innocent. Completely, utterly innocent, but Rosé couldn't stop herself -- not when you were there again, right in front of her, looking so good it hurt. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pushing her lips against yours in a kiss you weren't prepared for at all. Her mouth moved quickly against yours, knowing you'd be shoving her away at any moment. But she was okay with being selfish again -- she needed you then, and you allowed her to keep kissing you until you realized what was happening. 

As you go to stumble away and put distance between the two of you, the door once again opens; only this time, it's actually Jennie. Her eyes immediately dart between the two of you as she notices how Rosie's hands are still holding you close, both of your lips swollen from the kiss. All at once you realize how the situation must look, and you begin panicking. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." You shake your head, finally freeing yourself of Rosé's grip as you take a couple steps towards your girlfriend. She takes an equal amount back, scoffing lightly at the memory of the scene she just witnessed. 

"Yeah, okay," she says, sounding anything but convinced as she makes her way towards the door. You go after her, but she holds a hand up -- after knowing her for so long, you've learned that that signal means to give her some time alone. Both of you know you'll go after her again later, but she needs some time right now. As she leaves the dorm, the heavy sound of the door shutting is the only noise that cuts through the palpable tension. 

"How could you do that?" You ask, voice small, not even turning around to look at Rosé. You doubt that she's even sorry. 

She isn't sorry. At least, not for kissing you. It felt good to have you like that, and she doesn't regret it. However, from what angle of your face your side profile offers to her, she can see how upset you are. That's what makes her feel the slightest bit guilty for her timing. 

"I spent so much time trying to get you to notice me, and now you choose to do that? You're unbelievable, Roseanne-- I'm finally happy, and what, you want to ruin that?” She takes the blows as they come, staying quiet. “If you've ever cared about me at all then you'll stay away." You set your jaw, willing the tears to go away. You've wasted too many on her, and you'll be damned to look weak right now. 

"Y/N, I-" 

"No. Don't apologize when we both know you don't mean it. You've always been selfish, Rosé." You bite back, not caring if the words cut her down like her old ones always used to do to you. Earlier, before her little stunt, you were starting to feel sorry for her; clearly though, that was yet another mistake on your part. 

You leave without another word, praying that she doesn't further complicate the situation by following after you. Jennie is the only thing on your mind as you hop in your car, having an idea of where she might be.

--

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." 

Your worried voice replays in her mind for the millionth time, further tormenting her. She's been cheated on before, so that phrase isn't a new thing to her. 

She was always afraid this would happen. She used to lay awake at night, overthinking as usual, wondering when the beautiful thing the two of you created would ultimately come crashing down. It was too good to be true, and she curses herself for foolishly believing any different. 

The better part of an hour passes by as she sits on the park bench, reminiscing on all the memories you've made here. The idea of ending things with you and starting over with someone else sinks in, and she hates the feeling. She only wants you -- she's only ever wanted you -- and the thought that things could really be over now hurts her more than she cares to admit. 

Your eyes scan across the park, ghosting over the playground equipment until they zero in on her, sitting near the fountain that you shared your first kiss. Such a sap, you smile bittersweetly. 

You ruffle through the plastic bag that sits in the passenger's seat, moving the receipt out of the way so that you can pick up what you're really after. Returning your hands to the steering wheel, you grip it while giving yourself a little pep talk before exiting the car. You press a kiss to the present in your hand for good luck, hoping this encounter will go well. 

Water spouts from the top of the fountain, the sound growing louder the closer you get to Jennie. Her back is turned to you, and for that you're thankful -- you're not quite prepared to see how she'll be looking at you. Now just a few feet away, you say, "Marry me."

You’ll do whatever it takes to show her how crazy you are about her.

Her head whips around, completely taken aback by your proposal. She thinks that there's no way you're serious, but when she looks down to find her favorite flavor of ring pop in your hand, her eyes widen. You're sick of wasting time, and seeing that she hasn't yelled at you or turned you away yet, you take advantage of the situation. 

"Marry me, Jennie," you repeat, taking small, careful steps towards her until you're right next to the bench. "She kissed me, but I tried to push her away. I told her that you're the only one for me." 

She blinks, taking in your words as she notices you nervously toy with the plastic wrapper of the candy. She knows you're telling the truth; you're a terrible liar, and you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't want her back. If you wanted to choose Rosé over her, you had the perfect opportunity to do so back at the dorm.

But you don't; you want Jennie, and now you're standing in the middle of your favorite park, proposing with a piece of candy to prove that to her. The things you do for love. 

"It just scared me, Y/N. Seeing her wrapped around you like that--"

"I know, baby. I know. But I promise I didn't want it, and it meant nothing to me. I'm so in love with you, Jennie Kim." 

She smiles at the dopey grin on your face, seeing how smitten you are. 

"Okay," she answers back, yet again looking at your hands. 

"Is that a yes?" You ask, slowly beginning to tear open the wrapper. 

"Yes, dummy. I'll marry you." She declares, nodding her head with a laugh at how slow you are sometimes. 

"Yay!" You shout, stepping forward to pick her up in your arms. You set her back down with a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger as your heart soars. 

Jennie kisses you, letting the action convey all the emotions she's been through in the past few hours. "I love you." She sighs, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I'd surely hope so, jagi," you smirk against her lips, giggling at the squeal she lets out when you playfully pinch her side. Her kisses are replacing all traces of Rosé, and she's comforted by the fact that you'll so adamantly choose her, everyday. 

With a smile, Jennie realizes something: never again will she be forced to dream of having you in another life -- her wishes came true, and now she'll have you in this one, always.

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag​ Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror. 

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.  

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.” 

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright. 

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.” 

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?” 

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.:  curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum. 

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!” 

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again. 

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow. 

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?” 

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.” 

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.  

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible. 

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.  

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!” 

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.  

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.” 

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away. 

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.  

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.