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dark-konohagakure2 · 4 months

Note

Uhhh something something with Akatsuki guys breeding their (adult) lil sister :) Bonus for Konan to also breed her lil sister :,)

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, babytrapping, possessiveness

All characters depicted are 18+

Deidara has never given much thought to having children, he's still pretty young, not to mention that kids are just annoying little brats that will distract him from his art, so he doesn't want any at first, but when he catches his younger sister spending time with other guys, Deidara gives the idea of children much more consideration.

His sister isn't much younger than him. Deidara is nineteen and his baby sis is only a year younger then he is, but the blonde artist doesn't care, she's his sister and she shouldn't be devoting himself to any man but him.

Not only does Deidara want to mark her as his property for possessive reasons, but he would be lying if the thought of breaking his sister's virginity and filling her up until she's thoroughly bred with his baby turns him on like nothing else.

Even if his sister refuses, Deidara will push the issue, practically nagging her into letting him impregnate her, despite the fact that he's being too pushy and they're closely related to each other by blood. Deidara really wants to make sure other guys know to stay away, and this is the most effective way to do it.

"C'mon dummy don't be like that! You love kids, yeah?! So you should be thanking me for being a good big brother and giving you one!"

Deidara is a virgin and an inexperienced one at that, all of his sexual knowledge comes from trashy porno magazines, so he has little to no clue what he's doing when he thrusts into his sister's cunt, too lost in how good it feels to coordinate his thrusts properly.

He also doesn't know much about impregnation and the subsequent pregnancy, but what he does know is that he has to cum inside of her a whole bunch so he can properly knock her to up and keep her all to himself.

Deidara might be inexperienced, but he isn't a complete idiot. He knows that his sister has been on the pill, but he planned ahead, taking her pills and throwing them out when she isn't looking, since he doesn't want any stupid pills getting in his way.

Once he's finally done he'll keep his cock in her for a while, telling her how she better not let a single drop spill out of her, or else he'll just have to breed her all over again.

"Oh yeah, that felt great~ Now you better be a good mommy and behave yourself, or else. I'll just fill you up again, un!"

If she somehow doesn't get pregnant from that encounter, Deidara doesn't sweat it. He's already become addicted to his sister's perfect little pussy, so he's gonna be breeding it everyday anyway.

tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, age difference, puppet fucking, drugging, plugs

Sasori hates children. They're needy, loud, annoying, and just all around obnoxious. Sasori never thought he'd want to impregnate someone, especially his own sister, but curiosity gets the better of him, he wants to know if he can get her pregnant even as a puppet.

He rarely ever gives his sister much thought, she just exists to him, and he's only using her because she's the closest woman to him. But when Sasori actually bothers to be around her, he can't help but notice how cute she is, even if she is a brat by his standards.

Sasori won't go into things completely unprepared, he knows how to prepare for things ahead of time. He'll use some of his special poisons to increase her fertility and libido, slipping it into her food and drink when she isn't paying attention, although it is suspicious that her usually cold brother is cooking for her out of nowhere.

Once he's certain that his drugs worked on her, Sasori will take advantage of her, laying her down and getting on top of her. She's obviously confused, but Sasori will explain what he's doing to her in his usual deadpan and blunt way.

"What am I doing..? I'm putting a baby in you. Isn't it obvious? Or are you so stupid that you don't know where babies come from..?"

Sex with Sasori is rather uncomfortable for her. His body is a puppet, so it's wooden, and his cock feels more like a dildo than an actual organic penis, but for Sasori it feels completely normal and pleasurable, although it's hard to tell he's feeling good, since he rarely makes noise and never blinks.

Sasori is still emotionless even during such an intimate moment, he'll simply thrust into his sister's sloppy cunt, only really talking to tell her to stop being so loud with all her annoying crying and pleas to stop.

The absolute loudest he'll be is when he groans as he finishes inside of her. Sasori won't show it on his face or with his words, but he really enjoyed it, even if his sister clearly didn't enjoy it at all as evidenced by her tears.

After he pulls out, Sasori will be stern and make sure that she knows her place, letting her know that she better have his children, despite the fact that he has a very open dislike of kids that he doesn't even bother to hide from her.

"This better work... and if it does, I want nothing to do with whatever annoying children you push out... that's your problem now, little sister."

When he's done, he'll shove a plug into her filled up hole, not wanting her to waste a single drop of his essence, and Sasori will make it very clear that he won't tolerate her removing the plug until he says so.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, praise, infantilization, choking, cheating

Itachi is an Uchiha, so he has a natural inclination to reproduce, and he's also an older brother, so if he ever has the urge to breed, he can always go to his sweet little sister.

While Itachi could knock up Izumi instead of his own little sister, and his girlfriend would be more than willing to have his babies, Itachi just thinks his baby sister is so much more adorable and sweet, not to mention more tight and fertile.

He isn't a brute, he isn't going to throw his sister down and force himself onto her like a common thug, that would be mean, so instead he'll manipulate her into coming to his bedroom, and of course she does. She has no reason to doubt her sweet older brother's good intentions.

Itachi still sees his little sister as his baby, despite her being much too old to be considered that, so he'll be overly soothing and gentle when he eases his fat cock into her, not stopping until he's balls deep inside of her fertile cunt, cooing praises into her ear as he pounds her.

"Shhh... There there, baby. You're doing such a good job. Now keep taking it like a good girl, you're making Nii Nii so proud of you..."

He's almost too gentle when he's breeding her, treating her like a porcelain doll that can shatter with even the most slight of pressure, he also doesn't want to risk being too rough when he's trying to impregnate her, not wanting to damage the cute little womb that he's going to fill up with new Uchihas. However, he will choke her slightly, his slender hand squeezing her neck as he gets close.

Itachi is almost a completely different person when he's inside his sister. He's usually a doting yet distant older brother, but he becomes almost clingy when he's fucking her, his heavier body pressed flush against hers and his hands constantly gripping her body as he pounds into her, whispering praises into her ear.

He's nothing if not thorough, he wants to be completely certain that he's bred her well and proper, so he won't stop even after cumming inside of her countless times. She obviously grows tired and overwhelmed from the prolonged breeding session, but he's too focused on claiming her sweet pussy to stop.

When he is finally done filling her to the brim, he'll kindly manipulate incentivize her into keeping this as their little secret, offering to spend more time with her and train her despite his busy mission schedule.

"Good girl, you made me feel so good... Now, if you promise to be good and not tell anyone about this, I'll help you with your shuriken jutsu later, doesn't that sound nice?"

He'll never call himself a pervert, but he doesn't exactly hide how much it turns him on to see his sister cutely limp around the house afterwards, her big brother's seed stuffed inside her womb, unbeknownst to the rest of the family.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, monster cocks, double penetration, age difference, size difference, biting, victim blaming

Kisame has always been a more hands off elder brother. His sister didn't inherit the shark like features that he has, so it's almost impossible to believe that such a sweet and cute looking girl is so closely related to the Monster of The Mist, and Kissme himself isn't immune to her cuteness.

Kisame is a bit strange when it comes to his sex drive, on some days sex is the last thing on his mind, but on other days he's practically a feral animal in heat that needs a wet hole to breed, and his poor sister just so happens to catch him on one of those days.

He's a big guy, so he can easily just hold her down and use her like a little fleshlight, and that's exactly what she does, as soon as he gets his hands on her he's pinning her down on the nearest surface and stuffing her full of his dual cocks.

While Kisame technically doesn't need to use both of his cocks in order to breed, he wants to, and his poor sister's pussy will have to suffer for it as she's filled up with both of her brother's huge cocks.

"Fuck!! Keep squeezing my cocks like that, bitch. Your big bro wants to fill ya up real good, so no more bitchin' and whinin'~"

Even if he wasn't trying to be rough, his thrusts are still brutal, his large thighs pressed against her smaller ones as he shoves himself into her over and over again, his deadly teeth biting down on any bit of her skin that they can reach.

Due to his menacing appearance and even more monstrous reputation, Kisame doesn't get laid very often, so he is very pent up, his huge and heavy balls slapping against her clit as he fills her up with his thick cocks, shooting his pent up load into her countless times.

He has very high stamina, so the shark-like man is able to go at it for hours on end, never having to take breaks even when she's hardly conscious underneath him and begging him to stop.

Once he is finally done with her, most likely having fucked her from dusk until dawn, he'll be somewhat apologetic, although will ultimately blame her for his actions. She knows how Kisame gets sometimes, so she should have been a good girl and known better.

"Ahh~ Sorry about that, babygirl, guess I got a bit carried away... Maybe don't go actin' all cute around me next time..."

Kisame isn't trying to knock her up because he wants kids, he's too busy slicing his enemies to ribbons for something like that, he just can't control his feral urges when he's around he sweet little cunt.

tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, sadism, abuse, degradation, blood kink, ritual sex, threats, bondage

Unlike some others, Hidan doesn't want to knock his sister up because of a deep possessiveness or need for control, Hidan just wants to breed her because the sadist thinks it would be absolutely hilarious to see his sister all knocked up.

He isn't a nice big brother at all, Hidan is always picking on his sister and making her feel dirty about herself, so his little sister will try to avoid being alone with him at all costs, but Hidan gets her alone eventually...

He'll drag his sister into his room under the guise of a ritual for his beloved Lord Jashin, he'll even threaten her into accepting the "ritual" telling her that she either gets to participate in a breeding ritual or a blood ritual with him, so she has little choice in the matter.

He's quick to tie her down on his bed, making sure she can't move when he has his way with her. Hidan doesn't gag her however, since no one else lives with them and their parents are out of the picture, she can scream and cry in pain as loud as she wants, it's music to his ears.

"Cmon, just take it you dumb little hoe! You're always dressed like a slut anyway, so just take my cum and get knocked up already!"

Hidan is brutally rough with her, almost to the point of drawing blood, and if she does end up bleeding from his treatment, then that's even better, since blood turns Hidan on like nothing else.

While not inexperienced, Hidan doesn't know how to be gentle during sex, nor does he care to learn, so his cock will roughly bully it's way into her tight pussy while Hidan pounds into her and breeds her with all the carefulness and grace of a rabid dog in heat, even drooling like one during the act.

Hidan never shuts up when he's fucking her, he always has to be making some sort of noise, whether it be degrading her, openly fantasizing about her pregnant body, or just loudly grunting and moaning like a pornstar while he's fucking her.

He has quite a bit of stamina, so he can stuff her full of cum all night long. When he's finished cramming her womb full of his seed, he'll make sure she knows her place and what she's supposed to do now.

"Phew! That felt great, slut! Now you better raise this stupid little brat to follow the ways of Lord Jashin, got it, little sis?"

Hidan doesn't care to be a parent or an uncle to the kid, in fact if his sister doesn't behave herself from now on, the brat might just be his next sacrifice.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, age difference, abuse, tentacles, bondage

Despite his very old age, Kakuzu does have a younger sibling who is, while an adult, is also significantly younger than him. Kakuzu doesn't really get along with his sister very much due to their age difference, not to mention how expensive it is to keep her housed and fed.

He can't stand having a girl around his home "mooching" off of him and being a little freeloader. Kakuzu values his money more than anything, including her, so he figures that it's finally time to make her earn her keep and get some responsibility.

Kakuzu is a very big and muscular man, so he can easily manhandle and drag her away to whatever room is closest so he can breed her fertile womb. Her struggles are hardly felt by him, his skin and pain tolerance hardened by decades of battle.

He'll use the threads in his body to stretch out her pussy and prepare her for his cock. The process is incredibly invasive and uncomfortable, especially with her struggling underneath him, but Kakuzu will just scold her for attempting to fight back against him.

"Shut up you little brat. I'm just stretching out your little cunt for me, it wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't so damn tight..."

Once she's properly stretched out to his liking, Kakuzu will use his black threads to restrain her, wrapping around her limbs and keeping her legs spread apart and open to Kakuzu's greedy eyes. The immortal man wastes no time, shoving his cock inside of her without any warning or permission.

Kakuzu is almost as experience in sex as he is in battle, he's nearly a century old so he's had quite a few partners, some more willing than others. Kakuzu isn't experienced in lovemaking however, just in fucking and getting his rocks off.

He isn't very talkative, occasionally groaning and telling her to shut up at the very most. While Kakuzu doesn't want kids, there is a primal part of him that wants to stuff her full of cum and make her his, his thrusts will speed up ever so slightly when these thoughts cross his mind.

While his stamina isn't bad, he won't fuck her for too long, having more important things to do, but he'll still empty a lot of cum inside of her, not even bothering to use any protection. He is rather old anyway, so he probably doesn't have to worry about her getting impregnated from his seed.

"You better not go having any children now, you little idiot. I already have one brat to deal with, the last thing I need is another..."

If she does end up having his child, Kakuzu won't be very happy about it, only tolerating the kid if it somehow benefits him financially, or just keeps his little sister out of his hair and wallet.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, God complex, praise, mating press

Pain is an incredibly busy man, being the leader of an organization full of eccentric and dangerous individuals, so he's more focused on that family of his instead of his actual one, which comprises of only his younger sister, whom Pain deeply cherishes despite his cold demeanor.

While not a very remorseful individual most of the time, Pain can't help but feel somewhat bad for neglecting his dear sister, so he decides to give her some very special attention when he finally makes time for her.

Pain starts off rather slow, putting an arm around her shoulder in an affectionate gesture before escalating, holding her against his body, which is as cold as a corpse and rigid due to the rods in his body, the proximity quickly makes her very uncomfortable.

Pain can tell she is uncomfortable but doesn't let that deter him very much at all. He wants to make up for lost time, and he won't let her shyness get in the way of that goal.

"Hush now, little one. You should be feeling very grateful right now, not everybody is lucky enough to bear the child of a God."

He'll fuck her on his bed so that his cold body doesn't cause her too much discomfort during the breeding. While he doesn't go out of his way to be rough, he doesn't make much effort to be gentle either, the end goal is to cum inside of her, not to provide pleasure.

Pain is an incredibly imposing figure, even when he doesn't mean to be. His Rinnegan is staring into her very soul as he thrusts into her, the purple circular pattern showing his overwhelming power over her and almost every other human in the world.

Pain is strong physically as well, not just with his eyes but with his body as well, holding his sister down in the mating press while he pounds into her cunt, making sure none of his precious seed spills out of her.

He cums quite a bit, being rather pent up due to his lack of partners and sexual release, so she'll almost certainly be thoroughly knocked up by the time Pain is done with her, he'll even spare her a few kind wonders afterwards.

"Good girl, you did well. Now you'll have someone too keep your company while your elder brother is too busy. Aren't I so benevolent?"

Pain won't be a very attentive parent, he's already too concerned with running his organization and planning their world domination, but he won't be cruel either, occasionally making time for his little wife sister and their offspring.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, futanari/dickgirl, age difference, manipulation, slight misandry

Konan is a very gentle older sister, helping her dear younger sister with whatever she needs. But Konan is only human, and even she has some urges that are very far from gentle or angelic.

Konan is a very unique woman, she has both a cock and a pair of beautiful breasts, so she can satisfy her sisters emotional needs for a womanly presence, and her physical needs for a male one. But of course her innocent little sister isn't very aware of her elder sister's secret part just yet.

When Konan can't resist the urge to have her dearest sister any longer, she is easily able to manipulate the situation to get her sister alone. The younger sibling adores her older sister, so she'll think nothing of Konan getting rather touchy feely at first.

Even if she does notice Konan getting too close to comfort, Konan can easily talk her way into things, telling her sister how good and normal these sorts of interactions between family members apparently are.

"Shhh, there's nothing strange about this, my little angel. We're both girls after all, so we're allowed to be close like this..."

Konan is almost too gentle, being slow when she pushes her cock inside of her sister, making the younger woman feel every single inch as it slides into her virgin pussy, the feeling is both pleasurable and torturous at once.

Konan's cock is rather big despite her lithe frame, so she's easily able to hit her sister's womb with each thrust, her thick meat stretching her out and filling her fertile depths to the brim with her cum.

She would never wittingly harm her dearest sister, but even a woman as angelic and composed as Konan can't help but get lost in the heat of the moment when she's so deep inside her most cherished treasure, her thrusts speeding up when she's getting especially close to cumming again.

Konan won't stop until she is certain that her sister has been impregnated, then she'll finally be able to keep her sister to herself completely, and without having to worry about any undesirable men getting their perverted hands on her innocent baby sister.

"That's my good little girl... Now we can make a new family together, just the two of us. There's no need for any mean, scary men when you have me..."

Once she's impregnated her little sister, Konan won't let the girl out of her sight for even a minute, keeping a close eye on her little angel and the growing bundle of joy growing in her womb.

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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Hello, Neil Gaiman. I am writing this letter of gratitude because I am in despair, but I am obliged to you. I am Russian, I live in a small town in the south of Russia, in the Caucasus. a month ago I turned 16, so now I am fully responsible for all my actions. I'm bisexual, which is now illegal. you understand what I mean, but I’m simply scared to write about such things. absolutely no one knows about this, and I have to hide every day. this is an unbearable burden, but I must say thank you. because your projects are what gives me life. you have no idea how much pleasure it was for me, at eight years old, to fearfully admire Mr. Bobinsky. when, at 14, I finally saved up money for the Russian edition of Good Omens, which I had to order via the Internet not directly, but through my friends, I was quietly delighted. it is worth paying tribute to: this edition is really good and very warms the soul, its design may not be filled with elegance with a golden border, but it is very homely, cozy and imbued with love for the work, this can be felt, even if the translation is not the best. and on the very first pages I felt something that I had never experienced, having problems with the nervous system and anxiety: I felt protected and happy. I felt complete. each line was a sip of life-giving water for me. let me be so bold but this book is perfect for me and it's hard to believe it wasn't written for me personally haha. like two pieces of a puzzle. I hold the book of Good Omens, and I cry almost every time because it feels good just to hold it in my hands. you shouldn’t put this next to fanaticism, it’s just personal happiness. sometimes I felt so safe with this book that I hugged it as I fell asleep. then I saved up to the translation of script book for the first season, and I must say that I am confused, because there are no deleted scenes in it with Crowley shopping or the opening of Aziraphale's bookstore and others, and this was not clear to me. and a month ago, on October 30, my cousin, who is like my own sister, gave me the original Good Omens for my birthday. can you imagine? in all of Russia she was able to find only one person who carried out such foreign orders (please forgive me, I have little understanding of this). so, in some ineffable way, a copy was delivered to me via America from Corgi Books, I think, 2014. soft cover and thin pages, of course, but I'm so happy. and I’m also grateful to myself, because I’ve been learning English since I was seven, and therefore I’m glad that I can read the original. oh, you should have seen with what rapture I waited for the release of the second season at three in the morning! and with what delight I watched it in English without subtitles, understanding what was happening. this is happiness. what I want to say is that you bring…indescribable happiness to my life. you give me strength, and I don’t give up. I cry every time I allow myself to dream that I am escaping from here. that I can meet you and say thank you in person with my stupid accent, not so much because of my native language, but because of the braces, hahaha. but I never stop dreaming about it, although even this is hard. thank you for everything. I wish only peace and love. with devotion, love and gratitude, A.

I'm sending thoughts of love and concern. Stay safe.

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

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Lookism x Reader: Simps

G/N. Gun Park, Ryuhei Kuroda, Jake Kim. Just stupid and silly.

Goo calls Gun a simp.

He says it mocking and derisive as if it is something to be ashamed of.

Maybe it is. Gun doesn't know what a simp is. Goo opens his mouth and most of the time only shit comes out. Gun isn't about to ask and neither does he care.

"Wrapped around Y/N's finger," Goo sneers and that, Gun understands.

Maybe that's true too. He still aims a punch at the blonde's head.

Leaning over Gun's shoulder, you peer at the search box and chuckle, "Simp? Why are you searching for simp?"

"I'm researching what it means."

"Huh." Your brows knit together, wondering how he came across the term, when this is the kind of person who likes to text in either simple emojis or full sentences and no inbetween, has no idea about pop culture references and terminologies, and you had to teach him what the eggplant emoji actually meant.

A lightbulb goes off.

A Cheshire cat smile creeps over your face, " Did Goo Kim call you a simp?"

Gun turns towards you, traces of annoyance on his face, "He did."

"Well, aren't you?"

He looks down at the definition of simp again, doesn't really understand why it's meant as an insult, when at the crux of it, for Gun, it's simply someone attentive and devoted to their partner.

Gun grumbles, but he supposes: Yes. For you, he is a simp.

Kenta and Ryuhei are Executives.

Part of the exclusive club of Senior Management at Workers yet they both wait patiently in line at the coffee bar as their assistants (and yours) fidgets behind them.

"They're worried," Kenta murmurs in his native tongue.

"Why?" Ryuhei glances over and indeed all three appear concerned.

"That you think they can't do their jobs."

"It's just a coffee." Ryuhei shrugs, "Anyone can get a coffee."

"Exactly," Kenta wonders if he's being deliberately obtuse. "And it's expected that assistants get the coffee. They think they're doing something wrong because you're here."

"I know how Y/N likes their coffee."

"So does their assistant."

"I know precisely how Y/N likes their coffee."

Kenta sees the beginnings of a sulk, Ryuhei's bottom lip starting to jut out and the furrow of his brows, and sighs.

Ryuhei is being deliberately obtuse. It's not even a particularly adventurous order. Even Kenta knows how you like your coffee, having unfortunately been dragged here by his friend enough times.

They both shuffle forwards.

"One large Americano. No sugar, no milk," Kenta demonstrates, rattling off your drink of choice to the barista.

It's difficult to get wrong.

Ryuhei gasps dramatically at Kenta stealing his thunder, and receives an eye roll in return. Who cares about who places the order? Ryuhei is going to be the one that hand delivers the coffee anyway, then hang around you all afternoon being a nuisance.

"You're such a simp." Kenta complains.

Any hint of indignation disappears, and a wide cheerful grin spreads over the blonde’s face.

"I know!"

For someone of Jake Kim's size, he can be surprisingly sleuthy.

He pokes his head into the room, where the majority of his inner circle sits, hears both his and your name being mentioned and his ears perk up.

Oh?

With quiet, measured movements, sneaks over to the table, and slides into the empty space between Jason and Jerry.

"-I can't believe he is such a simp!" Brad chuckles.

"He really is," Jason agrees.

Jake leans forward, "Who is?"

Lua rolls her eyes, "Jake!"

"Me?"

Hasn't this guy kept up with the conversation? "Yeah, obviously!" Lineman adds-

And then eyes widening in shock, recoils sharply. As does the rest of the table.

Jake?! When did?! How?! What?

An uncomfortable silence descends, festers, stretches taut-

Snaps, when Jake raises his eyebrows and asks the group, "I'm a simp, huh?"

Jerry, his ever loyal sword, speaks for the first time. "You are."

Jake considers it, thinks about himself, thinks about you and his eyes soften. He grins, toothy and lovestruck, "I am."

#you should absolutely be a simp for your partner 😌#lookism #lookism fic #lookism x reader #gun park #gun park x reader #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei kuroda #ryuhei #lookism ryuhei #ryuhei x reader #jake kim #jake kim x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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boulevardk · 28 days

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (preview)

Pairing: Gojo x reader (afab)

Genre: cowboy!gojo x bandit!reader + smut

Word count: uhh like 1.7k (haven't finished the full fic yet lmao we'll see what the wc gets to)

Summary: how does the strongest fare in the wild, wild West as the newest sheriff? we're about to find out!!

a/n: shout out to whoever made this fanart bc jesus fucking christ. i have more written for this fic so I'll post it in the next day or so I just wanted to give a preview lol this isn't proofread my apologies

xx Jay

---

You were fucked. And, fuck, did you know it.

“You idiot!” you cursed, “Do you wanna die? How could you be so stupid?”

Your partner in crime (literally) turned to you with a crazed grin on his face, high on the rush. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of some little sheriff.”

The sheriff, in question, is none other than Gojo Satoru. Not only was he the youngest sheriff in the region, but he was an incredible shot and phenomenal horseback rider. The man was known all throughout the west for his strength, wit, and impeccable skill as a marksman. And he just so happened to be the man hunting you down as you speak.

“Am I scared? Am I scared?” you yell in disbelief, “Hell fucking yeah I’m scared! You just had to rob that bank, didn’t you? Toji, this is insane. We’re going to die, and it’s all because you wanted a little extra cash to blow at some saloon since you’re shit at cards and are always too drunk to make a reasonable gamble!”

His eyes widened at your statement, “I’m just down on my luck that’s all!”

You roll your eyes and continue pacing around the small room, almost internally counting down the minutes until you're inevitably caught and thrown in a cell to rot. Maybe Toji could tough it out in jail (assuming he wasn’t hanged for his crimes), but you knew you weren’t cut out for that kind of life. It’s not like you meant to get caught up in this life, after all. A few bad decisions led to this nightmare of a reality, and now you were about to ride this sinking ship with the buffoon in front of you who was pushing 40 and still thought it was a good idea to devote the little cash he had on reckless gambling instead of caring for the adorable, perpetually scowling son he left behind to pursue a life of crime.

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” his tone is sickly sweet but showing no real affection or warmth. “Don’t forget that you’re an accomplice in this crime too. Who was in the carriage waiting for me when I ran out of the bank with the cash, huh? Oh, that’s right! It was you!”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sit down and rest your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me, asshole,” you spit out, tone equally as harsh. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t know you were gonna do that shit! I owed you a favor- one favor, Toji! What, you think because I owed you one, I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the most feared sheriff in the west? Believe it or not, but I don’t want to live this way!”

He huffs and sticks a cigar in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a puff of smoke before meeting your eyes again, “Well, tough shit, doll. This is the hand you were dealt, and now you’ve gotta decide whether or not you’re gonna fold.”

You roll your eyes, sensing a migraine coming on. “Shut the fuck up with your poker references, Toji. You’re not good enough at any card game to warrant that kind of talk.”

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You turn around and are about to rip into him when you hear the sound of incoming horses and a voice call out, “They’re just up ahead!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Toji curses as he puts out his cigar and stands up hastily. He looks around the room frantically and meets your eyes before darting out of the shared space.

“Fuck! Toji, come back!” you shout as you rush after him. You’re not all that well-versed on running from the police given you’ve literally never had a reason to do so. To say you’re relying on Toji to get you two out of this predicament is an understatement. After all, that man has committed more crimes than interacted with his own son.

Running out of the room and following his footsteps, you exit out the backdoor. Your jaw drops to the ground at the sight in front of you. Toji’s sat on top of your very own horse, grabbing her by the reins and turning to you with a devilish smirk on his face. “Sorry, doll, I gotta cut ties here. ‘Can’t afford to get caught, you know? I’m sure you understand. Let me borrow your horse, yeah? I owe ya one.”

You can’t even fully process his words, you’re seeing red with the amount of rage consuming you. Frozen in place, you watch Toji ride away on your horse, effectively abandoning the house that was about to be raided by police.

Toji gets a fair distance away from the house before you hear the same voice yell, “There he is! You lot track him down. I’ll stay back and search the rest of the house. He had an accomplice. I’m sure they’re hiding out here somewhere.”

As soon as the man is done speaking, you hear multiple horses run off in Toji’s direction. You’re scared shitless of what’s to come. You just know the man about to search the house is the famous sheriff you had just been professing your fear of to that backstabbing bum who stole your fucking horse. Even though you know you’re thoroughly, laughably, undeniably fucked, you can’t help but laugh internally at the thought of Toji being captured by the sheriff’s men. You hope they don’t hurt your horse, although you doubt she’ll be yours much longer since you’re about to be sent off to jail.

Cutting your losses and acknowledging defeat, you walk back into the house, ready to face the renowned sheriff. Walking back into the kitchen, your footsteps alert the man of your location, and he makes his way into the room.

If you weren’t scared out of your mind at what’s to come, you might have started drooling, honestly. If this man weren’t known for his near superhuman abilities, he would have been known for his looks alone. You had never seen or even heard about a man that looked like him. He had bright white hair that peaked out from his hat. His skin was so fair and beautiful you swore he was made of porcelain. His lips were a pretty pink that somehow had a glimmering shine to them. He wore black denim with a black button up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his large hands and delectable arm veins. For a reason unknown to you, he wore a blindfold over his eyes. You could only wonder what his eyes looked like, although you imagined they were as beautiful as the rest of him.

He looked unreal. This whole situation felt unreal. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that you were about to be arrested let alone the fact that you were standing in a room with a man that looked like that.

“Well, well,” Gojo chuckles, “Here I was thinking Toji’s accomplice had to be some ugly brute with a tobacco addiction. But here you are instead.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet out of nerves, “I- I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He laughs fully this time. “And a sense of humor, too? What did Toji do to get you roped into this in the first place, huh?”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. It’s like he could see right through you. Was it that obvious that you didn’t live a life of crime? You suppose it’s times like this where your naturally expressive face and body language actually benefited you, as Gojo must have known about the true nature of your involvement just by the way you reacted to his presence.

“I, um…” you tried to pick your words in a way that made you look the least guilty of committing a crime. “I only agreed to help him since I owed him a favor…”

This seemed to pique Gojo’s interest. “Oh? And what did the lying, deceitful, manipulative, gambling addict do to earn a favor from a pretty girl like you?”

Your face flushes when you process his words. Warranted and accurate insults about Toji aside, the human embodiment of perfection called you pretty.

You must have been frozen in place for a second or two because when you blink again, Gojo is standing closer to you and leaning inward, “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

Eyes widening, you nod your head vigorously and elicit another chuckle from the man.

“Well,” you sigh after being able to mentally calm yourself, “he helped my family in a tough situation. My mother was very sick, and Toji just so happened to have the proper remedies to heal her…”

Although you can’t see his eyes, you can tell that Gojo raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and his silence prompts you to continue.

“Believe me, I never wanted to help him out. Or, at least, when I agreed to help him, I had no idea he was gonna drag me into this mess. But I couldn’t just walk around my house and pass by my mother without thinking that, if it weren’t for that lunatic, she wouldn’t be with us anymore.”

Gojo hums and brings his hand to his chin as if in thought. “I bet your family would be pretty disappointed to see you now though, right? Doing all this for your mother is admirable, but you still committed a crime… What kind of sheriff would I be if I just let you off the hook because you told me some sob story and batted your eyelashes at me, hm?”

You didn’t know how to react to his words. Sure, he’s right, your family would be disappointed to see you in this position. You’d never gotten into any sort of trouble before- certainly never done anything illegal.

“You thought you owed a simple favor, sure… But last time I checked, the pathway to heaven wasn’t paved with good intentions.” he tuts. “But jail time seems a little harsh, no? What do you think we can do to solve this little problem?”

Your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if Gojo could hear it from where he stood. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ve never broken the law before, and I can’t afford to leave my family and go to jail.”

“Anything, huh?” Gojo smirked and pulled down his blindfold to reveal the most striking, beautiful eyes you have ever seen in all your life. “Well, how could I turn down an offer like that?”

---

i want him on me and in me I need him carnally I want him in my guts, so deep in me that I feel him in my throat okay bye I'll release the full fic soon lmao <3

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ravenna-reid · 6 months

Text

devotion

Timmy x Reader because I am currently going through Tim Drake brain rot

⊹✧⊹

"Tim?" His name rang through the comm like it was a warning.

"Yeah Nightwing?"

"I think you should come back to the cave. It's kinda urgent."

Tim's footsteps stilled. "What do you mean?"

Dick let out a long sigh. "It's y/n."

In that instant, it was as though someone had replaced Tim's bones with lead. He felt it weigh him down as anxiety began to pulse in his chest.

"What do you mean Dick? What happened?"

Tim already had his cellphone in his hand, but there were no missed calls or messages from you. He knew you had gone out on patrol tonight; Bruce had put you with Dick and Cass, whilst he was forced to go with the bat himself.

Prior to going on patrol, you had given Tim sweet reassurances, and as much as he hated being separated from you, he reluctantly agreed.

His finger had instinctively hooked around your pinkie. "Remember the knuckle busters I gave you." He'd said.

And you had smiled. "Of course."

Now Tim was torturing himself thinking about all of the possible things that could have happened to you on patrol.

"I don't know Tim," Dick continued, "But something happened tonight and she won't talk about it. She's gone mute."

"You better hurry up and get back replacement." Jason chimed in, the sound of the thugs he was beating hitting the ground in the background.

"Shut up Jason." Tim snapped.

Ripping his comm out, he looked over at Bruce, assuming he heard it all. Bruce could tell Tim wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Go."

⊹✧⊹

Tim basically tore through the cave in search of you, his bo staff and mask disregarded on the ground. He immediately saw Cass sitting on the med bed and Dick standing beside her, arms crossed, and headed for them.

"Where is she?" He asked, voice eager and breathy like he'd just sprinted all the way back to the manor.

Cass glanced over at Dick, and Tim didn't miss the sorrowful look on her face.

"She's upstairs in your room-"

"What happened?" He cut Dick off.

The two exchanged glances, then Cass eyes averted to the floor and Dick's eyes went back to Tim. "The mission was going fine. Y/n was fine. Her usual self; strong, determined, hell she was taking out most of the guys herself." Dick shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "Then we got separated for a few minutes-"

"What do you mean you got separated?" Tim asked, tone stern and accusatory.

Dick continued on with the story. "Cass and I couldn't find her and when we finally did, she was like a ghost..."

Tim's face was going red with anger and his expression read blame, until Cass grabbed his arm. His eyes shot over to hers. Cass raised her hand and pointed upstairs, and with the nod of his head, Tim agreed and left them without another word.

⊹✧⊹

Tim wanted to practically walk through the door to his room, but instead, he gently opened it so he wouldn't startle you. He had no idea what condition you were in, and that made it agonising. So preparing himself for the worst, he quietly crept through the door.

The room was dark, the only source of light coming from his ensuite light. "Y/n?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he finally looked over to the windows, and there on the window seat sat you. Staring up at the full moon. A relieved sigh fell from his lips. "Y/n."

You turned to look at him and got to your feet as he quickly rushed over to you.

"Tim." Those were the first words you had spoken in almost two hours.

Tim's hands traced down your arms, seeking any sign of injury, before his eyes skimmed over your torso and neck. Then his hands moved to cradle your face, his gaze searching your eyes for any hint of conflict or pain.

"Y/n, where are you hurt? Are you alright?"

As stupid as it was, shame began creeping up on you. "I'm ok Tim, I promise." You grabbed hold of his hands and pulled them away from your face. "Dick contacted you, didn't he?" You faked a smile.

Your not so subtle action caught Tim completely off guard as he stared back at you. It was hard to read you in the dark with only the moon and distant light aiding him, but that didn't stop him from trying.

"Yeah, y/n are you sure you're ok?"

You took a small step back. "Yeah, I promise it was nothing. I'm fine." You tried hard to mask everything with that smile of yours, but it made Tim even more uneasy. He'd thought something physically happened to you. That you were injured. Bruised and bleeding. But now he knew the hurt you were experiencing was running a lot deeper.

You took a sharp breath in. "How was patrol?"

Your voice wavered, and that coil of anxiety was beginning in Tim's chest all over again.

"Y/n..." His finger hooked your pinkie, a small habit of his. He took a step forward to close the space between you, and with the window seat behind you, you had nowhere to go. "Come on, what happened during patrol?"

You let out a deep breath, your head swimming with thoughts. "It's just, I don't know. We ended up getting separated tonight...and when I ..."

No. You instantly cut yourself short and berated yourself. A habit you had developed over the years whenever you were about to talk about how you felt. A fearful expression painted your face and it pained Tim to see it.

"Honestly, it was nothing, I swear." You waved your hand through the air. "This stuff happens on patrol Tim. We've all been through it." You shrugged, trying to brush it off. But your eyes were wide and alert and you were oh so slightly trembling.

Tim rested his hands on your elbows now, tilting his head to catch your gaze as you turned your head from him. "Y/n, something reminded you of the incident tonight, didn't it?" He asked, voice so low and understanding. His thumb stroking your arm.

You bit your lip. "Yeah, but it's fine. The past is the past." You were trying awfully hard to avoid eye contact. "I can handle it, you know."

"It's not about that y/n." Tim's hands cupped your face and now you were forced to look at him.

Usually, you would cut and run. Always at the first sign of something becoming deeper. The first sign that told you someone was getting too close and they knew too much about you. The first sign of physical contact.

And yet...and yet. You could drown it all out with Tim.

"You don't have to be tough all the time. Stoic. Unbreakable. Not with me y/n." His strokes were delicate against the skin of your face. You silently nodded, taking his words in. Tim leant in and placed a long, tender kiss on your cheek. You closed your eyes, never knowing how to act when you received such affection.

Then you subconsciously leant into his touch and Tim was more than happy to pull you closer to him. Especially given it was something you rarely did. Now with your arms around his neck and his around your waist, he moved so that his lips were near your ear as he whispered, "You don't have to tell me what happened. Just let me take care of you y/n. I swear, you'll always be ok."

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #tim drake x you #tim drake robin #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fluff #red robin #red robin x reader #dca fandom #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #fluff

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ranbowkng · 24 days

Text

His Kingdom, His Power, My Glory

Gary thinks it'll be a good idea to infiltrate the church. A tired priest, with an adorable face, reminds him why that's a bad idea.

Gary smirked as he pulled the hood of his jacket tighter. This plan was genius. Why keep sending cultists to sneak into the church in the dead of night to make a mess of things when he could just spark turmoil in the middle of the day. The best part, they wouldn't kick him out, and they wouldn't know he was doing it. Perfect.

"Morning Father," he nodded, walking right past the priest standing at the door, greeting church-goers.

"Good morning! I- oh hold on!" The priest grabbed Gary by the sleeve, pulling him back slightly, "You're new here aren't you?"

"Ah, was it that obvious?" Gary smiled, fearing that his genius may have betrayed him already.

"Just a bit," The priest chuckled. Gary got a good look at him, he had dark brown hair, and royal blue eyes that seemed to glow. Gary could have gotten lost in that expression for hours, but he had a mission to attend to, he had far more important manners than pretty boys to worry about, "We actually have a rule, no hats or hoods in the congregation."

"Oh? My apologies," Gary said, pulling his hood down, "My old church was a bit less strict."

"No sunglasses either unfortunately," the priest smiled, but his grip on Gary's sleeve tightened.

"Afraid I can't do that," Gary said, "Got a bad eye disease. Don't wanna scare the kids away."

"Hmm," the priest's look was brimming with disappointment, but he resigned, "Alright then, we will keep you in our prayers, but please consider how you're affecting other members of the church."

"Yes, sorry Father," Gary chuckled, wanting to sigh in relief. He would not have been able to explain the peculiar case of his eyes to the priest.

Once he took a seat, he grinned ear to ear. What a fool the priest must have been to believe such a stupid lie. Regardless, the sermon was starting soon. From here Gary would be able to learn just what happens at a church service, and just how he can tear it apart.

As it turns out, there was too much sitting and standing. Too much listening and not nearly enough talking. Too much and not enough of everything, it was mind numbingly dull. Not even the Order would stoop so low as to make it's devoted followers sit for an hour doing nothing with no freedom to move.

But Gary-begrudgingly-endured it. He was certain that eventually something would happen that would be worth it. Then again, if he had to endure one more of those godforsaken psalms! They weren't quite songs, because a song required being good.

Eventually he found something, a payoff. The priest who had greeted him at the door had finished reading the gospel, and he spoke directly to the audience.

"God loves us all," he began, speaking slowly. You could hear the sound of his careful thought between each word he spoke, "The other day a woman had come to me asking how I knew."

This was perfect! If he wasn't reading off of the text then that only meant one thing, an open discussion. And when people spoke without reading off of their source, they were prone to making mistakes. And one slip up would be enough to pick him apart piece by piece.

"So I was open with her," he said, "I have suffered loss, divorce, and failures over and over again."

"Sounds like God hates you!" Gary shouted. As soon as he spoke everyone turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his face. He'd win over the crowd in twelve seconds flat.

The priest just gave him a tired glare before he continued speaking, "Despite my grievances, I still have the privilege of waking up every day. I have a new chance to prove myself every day. And the Lord tells me that I am his child and he will continue walking with me."

"I thought Jesus was the only son of God!" Gary yelled. He did his homework. Well, he read just enough to know where the hypocrisies stood out.

"We are all children of God under Abraham," the priest spoke through grit teeth, "We will be going over that next week."

"Sounds like God needs to close his legs!" Gary's smirk was growing into a grin.

"Alright," the priest took a deep breath, "Let's start over, since you clearly seem confused. I was trying to explain to a woman that God loves her and is with her through her every struggle. And to do so, I used my own life as an example."

"How did you manage to prove it?" Gary said, "Hey! Father! How do you know it's actually God talking!? Are you-"

"Some of us clearly need to start working on our relationship with the Lord!" The priest said, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to calm himself, "Some far, far more than others, but regardless. God is patient and will wait for us until the end of time."

"If God's so patient why are you getting so upset?" Gary argued.

"God is a patient man, I am not," John said calmly, "And that's okay! Because God gives us strength. Strength to overcome any challenge like frustration, or an inability to respect your church leaders."

"I fail to see how-"

"God gives us strength!" The priest spoke over him, "I believe we all have it in us to become better people through the Lord. Amen!"

Gary wanted to speak up, but the congregation seems to have accepted it was time to shut up. Unbelievable. How does a man who looks so pathetic manage to control the situation so well? Oh well, at least he can still figure out the weak points in the sermon simply by listening.

Meanwhile, said priest was glaring at him. A far older priest had taken over, but he still was looking straight through Gary with furrowed brows. Gary stared back, not that the priest could see past his sunglasses.

When the sermon was over, Gary was about ready to collapse. How does an hour of doing absolutely nothing become so exhausting? He would never blame his acolytes for their boredom during a meeting ever again.

He stood, prepared to leave, only to be stopped.

"Excuse me sir," it was the priest. He had gripped Gary by the sleeve, a soft smile on his face, "May I speak with you for a minute?"

Gary tried not to let his confident smirk falter, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

The priest chuckled slightly, "Oh no, I meant at the front. I have a couple things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Ah," Gary said. Had he been anywhere else, there was no doubt in his mind he'd be able to strike down the priest with a single glance, but this was a church. He was already weakened here, but this is where the priest would thrive. And yet, he was cocky, "Well, I don't see why not."

"Good," the priest said, "Follow me."

The priest waited for the entire congregation to leave. He stared up at the stained glass window as he waited to be alone with Gary. Gary kept a hand in his pocket, rubbing over his claw-like nails.

"I can explain," Gary said, "It's actually my first time in a catholic church, I didn't know the proper proceedings for the gospel."

"No no, I have to thank you," John said, "When one questions the bible, it means they simply wish to apply it to their life. I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to expand on what I had to say."

"Wait, really?" Gary said.

"Of course," the priest said, his nails digging into his palms, "Although, I would like to make a request." He turned towards Gary.

"Oh?" Gary raised an eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

"Take off your sunglasses," John said, "I'd like to look you in the eyes when we speak."

"But my eyes-"

"I am not a child," the priest said calmly, "I will not panic at the sight."

"But-"

"Is that a no?" The priest asked. Gary felt that he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, of course," Gary said, reaching for his glasses, slowly taking them off. He and the priest's eyes never stopped looking on to each other.

"Mmm," the priest looked at his eyes, black with glowing red irises, "You're a demon."

"Nonsense!" I'm a normal human being just like you!" Gary argued.

"I'm no fool," the priest said, "I knew you were a demon from the moment I saw your face. Your eyes are a simple confirmation."

"I apologize," Gary said, "I simply needed information about the church."

"I'm afraid that this isn't your territory," the priest said, "Now I have to request you leave before I exorcise you."

Gary chuckled, despite the priest's clear advantage, "I'm afraid I won't be doing that." He used a clawed finger to tuck a piece of the priest's hair behind his ear, "For you see, I have a new interest to pursue, and I have no reason to leave just yet."

"Then allow me to give you one," the priest said. Before Gary could even process what was being said to him, the priest gripped him by the wrists and pushed him backwards, slamming his back against the altar, "Leave this church. If you come back I will give you a fate far worse than an exorcism."

"Heh, I suppose you reciprocate my interests," Gary smirked, only for the priest to increase the pressure he was using to hold him down.

The priest glared at him before speaking again, "You will not come back, but I will keep my eye on you. When I find your lair then we can...discuss things as adults. But for now, I expect you out of my sight, understood?"

Gary's breath hitched slightly. It's been so long since someone's given him a command without solicitation, "Yes sir~"

"Ah-ah," the priest said, "Use my proper title."

Gary rolled his eyes before smirking, aiming to piss the priest off, "Sure thing, daddy."

The priest's eyes remained unamused. He slid his right hand away from Gary's wrist and down to his throat, "I said..." his grip tightened. Not enough to constrict, but enough to cause pressure, "My proper title."

Gary did not want to admit out loud the things that those words did to him, "Of course...Father."

"Good," The priest's voice was quiet, mumbled only so he could hear. God he'd kill to have that done to him with a mattress beneath them, "Now go on, get out and don't show your face. I expect to be meeting with you very shortly."

"Of course Father," Gary said, turning to leave before the priest could get any ideas about exorcising him.

After all this, perhaps information wasn't the only thing he could get out of the church. This would be far less boring as well.

#faith airdorf #faith game #faith the unholy trinity #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #drabble #garyjohn #mildly suggestive #idk man I know it's bad #I'm having a breakdown tf you want me to do?#Thanks for reading tho

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hanyjar · 10 months

Text

rain sucks. (i'll make you love it.)

isagi yoichi x reader

summary: your story with isagi yoichi, told through five moments, a bus stop, and rain.

notes: [6.25k words.] idk if isagi lovers still exist, but in the wise words of taylor swift: this is me trying ;)

disclaimers: cursing, reader hates the rain and likes to talk, break up with an ex (not isagi) in part one, loneliness in 'one' and four', self doubt in 'five' but isagi is quick to comfort, fluff -> angst -> fluff, rain kisses, romantic gestures, strangers -> friends -> lovers.

edit: isagi likes rain here (as opposed to the info given in the light novel T_T so very sorry ahh)

masterlist.

ONE.

It has been a bad day.

No. That’s putting it too lightly. Today, June 20th, is the very epitome of shit.

The heated argument you had with your now ex-partner continues to linger in your mind. “I think we’ve been wasting our time” plays on loop like a broken record, and you wonder if you look as lifeless as you feel.

It’s quite a silly thing: how a single person can make you feel as if the whole world is ending. It’s even sillier how you devoted all this effort into a relationship that is nothing but a waste of time to them.

Waste of time.

Even after they crushed your already tattered heart and left it for dead, you can’t help but think how much easier it would be if you feel that way about them too.

Love is a stupid, stupid thing.

You appreciate mother nature for taking pity on you, at least. Rain in the midst of summer has never been your favourite thing - the air always being a little too hard to breathe and the dreary sky a tell-tale sign that the bus is going to be late that day. But today, you feel okay towards rain. The tears from the heavens above do well to cover up your own; the droplets become friends, accompanying you in your forlorn state. For once, you don’t complain about the broken roof at the bus stop letting rain in. For once, you find comfort in the very thing you hate.

And you cry a little bit inside, knowing that your ex has managed to break that part of you as well.

“...Bad day?” A voice breaks you free from your stupor.

You turn to your left, and you feel your breath being taken away.

There, a stranger stands. From first glance, the boy is nothing but ordinary. His navy - almost black - hair did little to set him apart from the rest of the crowd, and he dons the same Ichinan uniform that you (and the multitude of students in the area) wear. But there is something within his cerulean eyes. A fervour of sorts, one that is begging to be unleashed for the whole world to see. To the untrained eye, he is the very essence of average; to a trained eye, the stranger is utterly beautiful.

…Or, that’s what you would say, if he didn’t look like a wet cat. Not the ones featured in those animal shampoo commercials, but one of the sad, pathetically cute, on the verge of tears, literally sopping wet ones. Your breath is taken away, simply because the boy is a mess.

You can’t help but think that this stranger has had a shit day, too.

“Like you have no idea.” You say, voice drenched in exasperation. “Though… You look like you’ve been through a nightmare yourself.”

“A nightmare is an understatement,” he cradles his left temple with his palm. You laugh at his antics.

“Try me, then. Nothing can be worse than getting dumped, right?”

The smile on his face immediately falls, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for dropping a bomb like that to a stranger. “My god.” He exhales, “I am so sorry.” His crestfallen expression makes you feel as if he truly means those words.

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” Your eyes look down to the soiled concrete. “I’ll be fine, time will pass, after all.” (You say that more to yourself than him, if anything.)

The bus stop is silent for a while, and you feel as if you’ve ruined everything - for the second time today. It’s almost as if the bus stop boy knows, and is eager to change that.

“Well. My name is Isagi Yoichi,” he begins. “And my soccer coach told me that I am mediocre at best; that I don’t have what it takes to do what I love professionally.”

You look into his eyes once more, and the fervour that was once there is now shrouded in a sense of agony you know all too well. The same agony that is, without a doubt, present in your eyes too. Words fail you. And for the years you have shrugged as the therapist friend, you find yourself at a genuine loss.

“...I guess we’re in the same boat then.” You muster out, lamely. “But are you seriously going to let some old geezer tell you what to do with your life? I mean, he’s literally the coach of a no-name highschool team.” Your hands make their way onto Isagi’s, clasping his in-between yours. “Your coach has no right to tell you that when he’s failed at that dream already. Don’t let your coach dictate your worth; don’t let him stop you from shining. Ever.”

He stares at your hands for a second, eyes widened and mouth agape. You are quick to detach yourself from him. “Forgive me,” a sheepish smile grows on your face.” “I speak too much sometimes.”

“No need,” Isagi’s hand moves to rest on the nape of his neck. “Thank you. I needed to hear that today, I think.”

Isagi smiles boyishly. It suits him.

“It’s no problem.” You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, suddenly feeling bashful at his gratitude. “Adults like that? They think they rule the world, but in reality—”

The squeaking of tires interrupts you, and the bus arrives exactly eleven minutes late.

“That’s my cue,” you say, and for a second, you could swear that Isagi seems disappointed. You make your way towards the bus, head turning towards his way before you get on board. “Thanks for the chat, stranger. I’ll see you around.”

You make your way through the barren bus, the driver eyeing you up-and-down for your soaked figure. And just like that, uncertainty and dejection return in waves. Talking to Isagi was a good distraction and all, but you can’t forget that your partner of two years just fucking broke up with you. You are alone now.

You want nothing more than to sleep it all off. This feeling of loneliness is a type that you would not wish on anyone - even your worst enemy. (Well, maybe someone. Your ex, being the said someone. But you like to think that is just the anger talking.)

“Hey!” Isagi’s voice echoes out. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the grey skies of your mind, it is his turn to make your eyes widen; his voice bypassing the sheet of glass separating you two and reaching the storm that surrounds your heart. “Don’t let that past relationship stop you from shining too, okay?”

…Perhaps, you aren’t so alone after all.

The bus sets off, and Isagi sees you smile at him through the rain-stricken window. The boy hopes that his sentiments have reached you; he hopes that you’ll follow the same advice that you’ve given him.

But above all else, he hopes that he will see you again.

TWO.

“I hate this bus stop and its stupid roof.”

Isagi stops typing away on his phone. “You say that like, all the time nowadays.”

You’ve definitely sucked the life out of that phrase recently, but you take it as a good sign. An indication that you’ve healed.

The relationship that you once held dear is nothing but a mere memory of the past. The countless sleepless nights and time spent wallowing in your own self-doubt have all but ceased to exist. You realised that it simply was not worth your while to cry about a lost love, and to instead surround yourself with the love that remains from those around you. If anything, you are grateful for it: you have grown from that experience tremendously. By no means would you ever consider it to be a waste of time. And in the process?

You garnered a friend. A confidant. That break up led to the beginning of something magical. It led to a friendship with Isagi Yoichi, or, who you like to call, your bus-stop boy.

After the fateful day, you started to notice his presence around more. At first it was in the halls of Ichinan, a mere wave shared between you two here and there. Then the new school year began, and Isagi was shuffled into your homeroom. You began seeing him from once in a while, to literally everyday.

His presence began to bleed more and more into yours, and your lives ended up intertwining together until there was nothing you could do to untangle them. Eventually? Isagi was your deskmate. He was cooking lunch for you, you two eating his homemade lunches together in comfortable silence. You began waiting for his soccer practice to finish, and Isagi would wait by your side at the station until the bus came. A rhythm that you two fell into, almost as easy as breathing.

In your chapter of new beginnings, there is no Isagi Yoichi without you, and there is no you without Isagi Yoichi. An inseparable duo, you two are dubbed as.

You like to think you know a lot about him now. Maybe even go as far as to say you know everything about him, as he knows everything about you.

“It lets the rain in, Isagi.” You whine. “And besides, why is it even raining in Spring? Tsuyu* season isn’t for like, another month or two. There’s no way anyone could like this weather. No way.”

“I don’t know… I don’t mind it every now and then,” he says. “I like rain. I think it’s nice.”

Pause.

Well, maybe you don’t know everything about him.

“What? Since when?” You put your hand on your heart, gasping in mock-offence. “I didn’t know that I’m friends with a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes at you. The audacity. “A traitor, really? Just because I like a bit of rain here and there?”

“It goes deeper than that, Isagi!” You say. (It really doesn’t. You just want an excuse to complain a little, and a sassy Isagi Yoichi is always a fun sight.) “What’s there to like anyways? I don’t get it.”

“I can try to explain it for you, if you’d like.”

“Please do.”

“Have you ever seen what it looks like after it has rained?” He asks. You shake your head in response. You’ve never been the type to stick around long enough to see the sky stop crying. “You should. It’s wonderful, y’know: the glow it leaves afterwards. The streets look like they’ve been reborn - you can literally see the dirt on the concrete being washed away and given another life. If you’re lucky? A rainbow might come and say hi.” Isagi smiles at the little comment he makes.” That sight alone is worth getting your books wet and missing the bus every now and then. And it is just one of many reasons I have, honestly.”

You find yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. It’s cute, when he’s like this. You’re glad that he’s comfortable enough around you to show this side of himself. “I like it when you infodump, Isagi.”

“Did my infodump manage to change your mind?” A tinge of hope emerges in his voice and eyes. You shake your head. The hope is gone just as fast as it came. “Well, maybe the main reason will.”

He gives you a mysterious smile, and proceeds to say nothing.

“Aren’t you going to finish that sentence?”

“Nope, I don’t think I will.” Isagi says. You shoot him an incredulous look. “I’ll tell you… If you don’t fail your social studies paper.”

“Wha— Hey! Now that’s just being mean!”

He laughs. “So then… Why do you hate rain so much, anyways?”

“Changing the subject, really?” You say.

He merely shrugs in response, giving you a teasing grin. “Just roll with it. I promise I’ll tell you,” he pauses. “One day.”

You kick his foot in response, making an impromptu game of footsies ensue.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Isagi lifts his hands up to the side of his head, surrendering in a fit of boyish laughter. “No but really, I’m curious. Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just—“ You stick your leg out precariously, as if the rain is going to melt your foot. “I hate the rain. I always have, and probably always will.”

A lull of silence passes by - not dissimilar to the one that happened on your first meeting with him. It’s different this time, though, as it is not a silence that is born out of two strangers not quite knowing what to say. It went deeper than that, more intimate, more comforting. Isagi puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “Well,” he begins. “One day, I hope I can show you how beautiful rain can be.”

Isagi smiles - a pretty, pretty thing.

There, amongst the dreary skies and wet cherry blossom leaves, is sunlight. Sunlight, in the form of him. Him, the Ichinan forward. Isagi, a boy who has nestled his way into your life almost too easily.

Yoichi, who leaves your heart hammering a bit too fast for comfort.

“Come on, you’re going to miss your bus.” Isagi’s hand finds its way to yours, locking into place like they were made for eachother. “It’s darker than usual. I’ll walk you home today, okay?”

He drags you towards your usual window seat, tapping the two matching keycards you share while entering. Isagi whispers a quick goodnight as he sits on the seat next to yours.

A smile makes its way towards your lips. Warmth filling up your entire body, entire soul.

You adore his sleeping face; you adore him.

Wait. Adore? Uh oh, you think. I might be falling in love.

*Tsuyu: The rainy period in Japan, generally spanning from May to July. The direct translation is ‘plum rain’, because it coincides with the season that plums ripen in Japan.

THREE.

Isagi is the first one to break the silence.

It’s weird, how he called you out to the bus stop out of the blue. Meeting together here in the past was always out of necessity: one born from a desire to go home and to have a chat with your best friend to end the day on a high note. Never, is the meeting at your sanctuary intentional, like it is now.

You couldn’t help but rush to get here. Not when he texted you like that: frantic and brimming with urgency.

“Sorry for making you come all this way, especially at this time of the night.” He says, carefully. As if he is tiptoeing around eggshells. Like you are strangers again. Isagi is never this careful around you, and hasn’t been for a while now. The change of pace perpetuates fear into the depths of your soul like no other.

“It’s fine.” You tentatively look up from your lap, preferring to look at the night sky instead of his face. I’d do anything for you, when you text me like that. “It’s just… Your message; the tone you’re speaking to me in right now. You’re seriously worrying me, Isagi.”

Isagi lets out a sigh, one quivering with nerves and worry. He places a hand onto your clenched ones, rubbing comforting circles onto the dorsal side. That’s weird. You didn’t even realise you were shaking. “You know that letter from the Japan Football Association I got a few days ago? The one we were so excited about?”

“The one I forced you to accept, right?”

“That’s the one.” He smiles fondly at the memory. The one of the two of you in his room, him being at an absolute mental blank, while you - the ever-so lovely you - was crying tears of joy - a stark contrast to the tears you shed earlier that day, watching him lose the qualifiers. You egged him to accept it, because ‘nothing would make you happier than to see him pursue his dreams’, you said. Words that sent an elation of joy to flood across his body, for he didn’t think that he could love you more. “…Well, I went to that address they gave us today. And that letter didn’t exactly tell the whole story. Of what it is, what their goal is.” Isagi continues; you feel a lump beginning to form at the back of your throat. “Yes, it’s a player improvement project. But I have to stay at this camp, I think. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, and I can’t contact anyone that’s not a part of it either. All I know is that it starts tomorrow. Officially.”

“What…” You muster out, at a complete loss for words.

“It’s called Blue Lock, and I’m going for it.” He places his unoccupied hand onto his chest, eyes igniting with a kindred spirit like no other. “I think this is my best shot at becoming the best. To play beyond a national level, and make you proud. But…” He pauses, pinching your chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes for the first time in this conversation. “I won't go if you don’t want me to. I won’t, and will never do anything that you don’t like. So just say the word, and I’ll stay. Right here, right by your side.”

It hurts so damn bad. All of this, how it is so out of the blue, how there’s a possibility you may never see the boy, who has been such a pivotal aspect of your life for the last year or so, ever again. You want to be supportive - heck, you’d go to war just to see Isagi shine. But it hurts. You love him, for goodness sake. Every bone in your body wants him to stay, to not break the sacred normalcy that you have shared with the man that makes you smile brighter than anyone else can.

But the skies are clear. And the right answer, the solution to all of this, is even clearer.

“You’d have to be stupid to not go.” You say, voice unwavering with confidence. However, your eyes are anything but. “You have to go, Isagi. I don’t want to destroy your dreams like that and ruin the potential you have. I could never live with myself if I made you stay.”

Isagi kisses you on the forehead, once. “Thank you,” Twice. “Thank you, so much.” He leans his forehead against yours, and his teary ones meet your equally watery ones. “I’m going to miss you more than anything. I promise, I’m going to become number one. Just for you.”

“You better.” You chuckle, choking on a sob. “Shine brighter than anyone else, Isagi. I’ll be watching you every step of the way.”

He nods in response, and you stay like that for a while. For minutes, hours, even. Foreheads kissing each other, and staring into his cerulean eyes like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them.

“I never told you the reason, didn’t I?” Isagi breathes out.

“What?”

“The reason why I love rain as much as I do.” He says. You let out a careful no, wondering if he did tell you, and you just weren’t listening.

“It’s because,” Isagi begins, reaching for your right hand and opening it, palm facing up. “It was raining when I met you.” You feel him reach for his back pocket, and Isagi pulls out a pristine white envelope, placing it into your hand. It is sealed with red wax and decorated with golden swirls. Beautiful. Like it came right out of a fairytale. “…And you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your body quivers, and you feel the tears threatening to return again. “You’re so corny,” you say, half-flustered and half-shy. “And I still hate the rain.” You reach a hand up to his cheek, looking at his lips in a way that just friends don’t. “But Isagi, you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me too.”

He looks at your lips too, and you anticipate for something more - to go beyond what you two have built so beautifully. To go beyond friends, and transform into lovers.

Isagi pulls you in for a tight hug instead. You reciprocate. Those thoughts disappear as fast as they came.

“So..” You clench the letter tight within your hands, and you cringe at the feeling of droplets meeting your shoulder. (Truth is, you didn’t know if you were cringing at the fact you wished he had kissed you, or if it is the impending sky-fall. You choose to believe the latter.) “Do I open it now?”

He pulls away from the hug first, and smiles, embarrassment painting his features. “I’d prefer it if you read it later.”

The droplets fasten, quicker and quicker, and Isagi pulls you closer to him, putting you out of the rain’s way. “Oh come on! It has to rain now, out of all times?” You heave a great sigh, burying your head into the nape of his neck.

“It gives us an excuse to stay here for a little while longer, doesn’t it?” He gives you puppy dog eyes.

“As much as I’d love to stay with you all night, it’s getting late,” you say, laughing inwardly. “I don’t want to worry your parents. Actually— have you even told your parents about Blue Lock yet?”

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted you to be the first one to know.”

How sweet. “Then you should hurry home,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t hold you up.”

“You sure?” Isagi holds your hands tighter than before. I don’t want to leave you yet, his eyes scream.

“I’m sure.” You squeeze his hands in response. I don’t want to let you go either, your eyes say.

Isagi leans in once more, bumping your noses together, eyes meeting in a silent agreement. But we have to. And we’ll be okay.

“Promise that you won’t forget me?”

“I could never.”

And so he goes. But you stay. You remain seated, sheltered beneath the shoddy bus-stop. A sense of déjà vu passes, it’s just like all those times before. But it’s almost painful this time. Your bus-stop boy is walking away from you, instead of seeking shelter alongside you. You laugh at yourself, bitterly. You don’t know if you’ll ever move on from him, or if you even want to. Not when your forever-person has pried his way into your heart like this, not when Isagi feels like home.

You pry the wax seal off the letter, unfolding the paper that is encased inside in a hurry, a tinge of excitement coursing through your veins.

‘I still haven’t shown you the beauty of rain. Will you wait for me? Love, Isagi.’

A laugh escapes your lips. Of course you would. You’d wait forever, and forevermore for him. He didn't even have to ask. It’s something that you would’ve done as one would breathe air. And in a way, you realise that there’s a certain calamity to your circumstance.

You love him so much that you’d willingly let Isagi tear down everything you’ve ever known. Whether it may be something silly like your animosity towards rain, or the idea of letting someone love you again. You’d let him do it all.

And that is terrifying. But exquisitely so.

A barrage of steps sounds itself out in the quiet of the night, a figure making its way to you - closer, closer, and closer. Oh god, someones not trying to kill me, are they?

Then you see a familiar sight. A boy with his hair in disarray, black outerwear soaking wet, looking just like the wet cat from your first meeting but this time more mature and more determined, and suddenly he’s pulling you into the rain with him, grasping onto your shoulders, locking his eyes onto yours and oh. He’s kissing you on the lips now.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t leave without kissing you first. I think I’d go crazy if I didn't.”

“I think I’d go crazy too,” you chuckle, resting your head against his chest. “And yeah. Of course I’ll wait for you, dummy.”

“You opened it already?”

“I can’t wait to see how you’ll make me love rain.”

…You should’ve known he would’ve given you that kiss first.

Isagi is not the type to leave you disappointed for too long, after all.

FOUR.

The days seem to blur together in Isagi’s absence.

The last year or so was, for a lack of a better word, lonely. Filled with rumours that you drove your best friend mad and he ran away, or that you murdered Isagi and the police have yet to discover his body, you felt as if the only people in your life for the last few months were your family and Isagi’s parents.

The sudden isolation is getting to you. And you know it. It shows in the dreariness of your demeanour; bears its teeth in the darkening eye bags that have crept their way onto your face. You’re not certain that he will be able to recall your face anymore. Heck, you can’t recognise yourself anymore either. Gosh, who would’ve thought that being Isagi-less for a little while would do this to you?

But today brings something new to the table: hope. Confirmation that all of this waiting has been worth it after all. You’ll get to see him in an hour or two come morning, and it will be enough.

Or, at least, that's the timeframe you predicted last night.

“There have been reports of mass delays in the Saitama Public Transport Network due to heavy storms and rainfall. Civilians can expect their regularly scheduled buses and trains to be postponed for up to two hours or more—“

You throw a pancake at your TV and scream.

The what-would-be one hour trip to Tokyo is now possibly three, and since your butter fingers slipped and set the wrong alarm last night, you are already running late.

You just hope that Isagi’s parents are still waiting for you outside.

Ding!

You reach into your pocket for your phone, and a message from Isagi’s mother illuminates the screen.

‘Sorry, Honey. We left already. Issei is worried that the traffic is going to hold us up from getting to Tokyo in time.’

Great. Just great.

It seems as if the universe is practically begging for you to not see Isagi today. But after not seeing him for months - not even a hi, hello, or a single sign that your Isagi is safe and sound - you only have one thing on your mind.

Screw the universe. I need to see him. Screw it all.

You chuck on a pair of navy converses, making your way towards the bus stop that started it all. The streets are busier nowadays. With various roadworks and several shops getting renovations left and right. However, the one location that you know like the back of your hand remains abandoned, frozen in time, almost. Still on its last leg, with a leaky roof and ivy adorning the wooden frame.

The seats have grown moss on them from the increase in rainfall nowadays. And so you choose to stand instead - quietly observing the pouring downfall, thoughts running amok.

It’s almost scary, how time has simultaneously been impetuous and sluggish lately. And you know it ties back to Isagi. It always does. You haven’t seen the boy in ages, actually. And that, in itself, is an understatement. It isn’t in the 'two weeks off school’, or the ‘we haven’t talked since summer break’ way, but in an ‘I’m honestly forgetting your face since it is now a new spring without you’ way.

…You don’t think you’ll have the heart to ever tell him that.

There is one thing that scares you more, though. And that's in the way that you’re forgetting how Isagi looks when he wears his smile. Does his lips curve upwards or downwards? Do his eyes turn into half-moons when he’s happy or does he bear his cerulean eyes for everyone to see? All of these are questions that invade your mind during sleepless midnights. Questions, that you never thought you would ask at all.

You can only hope that his smile is better than you can imagine. That he glows radiantly like he does in the fragments that appear in your memory every once in a while. Will happiness look good on him? Will it feel like a shame that you’ve been missing out on it all this time?

Maybe that’s the real reason why you’re worried that Isagi won't remember you: because you can hardly recall his face yourself. As in, truly, know what he looks like. You know Isagi from the blurry photos on your phone taken at 3AM sleepovers, and the display frames lined around his family’s home. The big picture itself is easy to see. The little things - the quirks of his that made you fall - have been much harder to recall.

But you do remember a few things. Arguably, the most important ones.

Your love for him; Isagi’s promise. The way he kissed you like he needed you to live; the way you cried for him amongst the skyfall.

The way Isagi taught you that it’s okay to love.

And it’s okay to be loved back.

For now, that is enough.

Droplets continue to batter against your woollen jumper, the rain drenching your entire being. It soaks your hair, makes the knuckles on your clenched fists a light violet, disguises the tears falling down from your face. The rain is ever so violent, leaving a mess of you in its wake. For the second time in your life, you let the rain do as it pleases. You let it destroy the outfit you meticulously planned, wreak havoc on the converses Isagi gave to you on your birthday. All in hopes that it will eventually cleanse your soul. Cleanse the pain, the happiness. Wipe the slate clean, as the rain does with the pavement, until you are reborn from the ashes and live a life where you aren’t so, irrecoverably in love with your best friend.

But you know, deep down, it will never save you from your calamitous love. That even if you are reborn, one word will remain in your heart. One, sacred word that you keep like an oath.

Promise.

You wonder if Isagi remembers his promise in the same way that you do.

It’s the only reason why you are going to the game today, after all.

Your hands loosen from the fist you’ve been keeping this whole time, deep crescent moons adorning the insides of your palm. A slip of paper flurries out from your hand - swishing with the wind in a way that a feather would. It dances around, until it lands in the puddle that has formed beneath your feet.

Shit. The ticket.

You bend down and clutch a now-soaked sheet of paper in your palm, tiny inscriptions that adorned the sheet now bleeding together. The only thing now visibly readable being: ‘JAPAN’S U20 VS BLUE LOCK’.

Rain really, really sucks.

(You’ve never hated it more.)

The bus finally arrives amidst the downpour.

(Yet, for some reason, a small part of you is excited to see the rainbow that comes after the storm.)

FIVE.

Isagi has always loved the rain.

Ever since he was a young boy, the rain has always had a certain allure that captivated him more than most. In his eyes, puddles held miniature worlds within them, with pebbles acting as land formations and stray twigs imitating people. Enchanting. Raindrops race each other down window panes, with him as an eager viewer. Simply spellbinding. However, nothing has ever beat the feeling of playing soccer amongst the rainfall. The feeling of watching the opponents around you struggle to run in the mud, as you calculate the best direction to head in; pieces of grass decorating your cleats in the aftermath like a badge of honour. Getting sick afterwards is a simple price to pay if it means transforming the pitch into a battlefield. Rain makes the game something to remember.

It’s the duality of rain that makes Isagi treasure the phenomenon dearly; rain can be simultaneously beautiful and destructive at the same time. Which, shockingly to him, is the very same fact that makes you despise it so much.

Your face appears within his mind. Isagi smiles.

Ah yes, you.

The person who despises rain more than anything else in the world. Who groans at the slightest hint of darkening clouds, and acts as if drizzle is akin to acid rain that will obliterate everyone in an instant.

Nowadays, media outlets constantly poke and prod into your relationship with one another as Isagi’s reputation grows - at a speed only fathomable in his wildest dreams - wondering how he can love you so much when the two of you are so different in every sense.

“…They just don’t understand,” he said to you on a day where it was all too much. “They’ll never understand how you’ve changed my life, is all.”

“Me? The person who nearly forgot you? Who doubted you and thought that you would’ve forgotten about them too?” You angrily clenched your head. “I don’t see how you’ve forgiven me so easily for that.”

“I told you already,” he began. “When I was gone I had the same thoughts as you. I forgot you for a bit, too. I doubted you, as well. I could never hold that against you, because I did the same, and– and… I regret it everyday; I know you regret it too.” Isagi inhaled sharply. “But at the end of the day, we both remembered the promise. And that’s enough.”

“…Right. I’m sorry, Yoichi.” Your eyes locked with his through the gaps between your fingers. “I love you so much, y’know that?”

“I know.” He grabbed your left hand, giving it a swift kiss. “I love you more, infinitely.”

Isagi cherishes you like he is a marauder and you are the finest jewel; he looks at you like you’re the only person who ever matters. And that’s true. Because to him, you are. With the countless sacrifices you’ve made for him; sticking by his side every step of the way; waiting and waiting for years; being the brunt of scrutiny from the media - heck - even your peers in high-school prior to his Blue Lock debut, Isagi is unsure if he will ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done.

…But he does have an idea on where to begin.

Isagi averts his attention to the sights outside the bus window. He wonders why the rain is extra pretty today. The beauty of the raindrops seem otherworldly currently - a cascade of water flowing down overflowing gutters, iridescent hues lining the streets that he grew up on, children jumping into puddles with no care in the world. The rainy downpour from the heavens above seems unfaltering - even against the brilliance of Saitama’s lights. And amidst the hustle and bustle - adults finding their way into comforting warmth - there is you. Waiting in the rain for him underneath the bus stop, face twisted in discomfort, twirling the umbrella in your hand round and round.

It is no coincidence that the rain is so charming today.

No.

It’s prettier, because of you.

Always, you.

His sweetheart of many years.

“Hey, stranger.” You greet him as Isagi steps outside of the vehicle he practically grew up on, ushering him underneath the umbrella you brought with you.

You, who he loves more and more everyday.

“Hey yourself.” His eyes twinkle with mirth as he takes the umbrella from your hands. “It’s been a long time since we were both here, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Your face lightens up with the smile that he loves so much. “To think the last time we were here together was when…”

He looks into your eyes, face erupting with a mix of his boyish smile and laughter. “...When I kissed you. Yeah. I don’t think I could ever forget that night.”

The look on your face tells Isagi that neither could you.

“Even though we’ve had countless other kisses since then, that one is still my favourite, y’know?” Your hands move up to cup his face within your palms. “Yoichi, you don’t do romantic things like that anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You stick your tongue out at him.

Isagi lets go of the source of shelter you are sharing, and lets it drift away with the wind. “Hey! We’re gonna get soaked!” You turn your back towards him, hands desperately trying to catch the stray umbrella that seems to be more than happy to escape. “C’mon Yoichi! What was that for?”

“Turn around for me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” He says, a smile evident in his words.

Isagi sees you gasp, the sight of him knocking the wind from your chest.

There he is, kneeling with his right knee down to the floor - pants getting soaked from the wet concrete below. And in his outstretched hands, lays a small, black velvet box, a diamond ring embedded within its centre.

“Will you marry me?” Isagi asks, starry-eyed. Voice soft and vulnerable.

One day came, and now you know Isagi is right.

Rain can be beautiful.

EXTRA.

“Hey, Isagi. What’s the date today?”

“June 20th. Why?”

“No reason,” a small grin makes its way to your face. “Just curious.”

#blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock isagi #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #isagi yoichi bllk #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock fanfic #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x y/n

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scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

See You Everywhere (Secret Admirer pt 3)

Steddie Week 2024, July 3: Long / mutual pining / Holding Me by Warlock

It's still July 3 in my time zone, haha I made it! *lame fist pump*

wc: 3293 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

Darling Steve,

You amaze me on so many counts, not least by thinking I would stop writing to you after that, holy shit, not stupid at all. I see the vision, baby, and I think it’s precious that you’d rather picture me in disguise than imagine me wrong. But, sweetheart, you have to know that there are no wrong answers in these letters. This is much more firmly within my comfort zone than yours, I know, so I will never judge you for anything you write to me.

(Although I am honor-bound to gently, lovingly point out that it’s Bilbo, not Bibo. And I hope your band of gremlins does not end up guiding you to lead a life of crime. Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it might seem without the swords and the magic and the fantastic creatures.)

But I digress. I would happily slink into your bedroom at night, dressed all in black. (I wear a lot of dark colors anyway, so it’s not that much of a stretch.) I’d scale the outside wall up to your bedroom window and silently slip inside. Step softly so as not to disturb you as I approach the bed, where you slumber peacefully in… I want to say, with hope in my heart, nothing but those Hawkins High gym shorts? Nights have been hot lately, that and leaving the window open should help you keep cool. My own costume would be a little warm in this weather but it is, if I am to preserve my secret identity, a necessary sacrifice; one I would willingly make for the privilege of touching you.

Do me a favor, sweetheart, and touch yourself while you read this. Through fabric, if you want to make it authentic, if you imagine me wearing gloves. (So smart for that, baby, because honestly you’d figure out a lot about me just from seeing my hands.) Lay back like a good boy, Steve, and let me make you feel good and pull those shorts down. It’s dark, I could pull up my mask a little bit to use my mouth. Suck you until you’re hard, use my hand for whatever I can’t fit in my mouth because I can tell you’re very gifted in that area. It’s a shame I’d have my hair covered because I like having it pulled, but I could still moan around you while thinking about it.

And baby? I’d swallow.

I’ll leave it there because… to be perfectly honest, I got a little distracted and made a mess of myself. You have no idea what you do to me, Steve, I feel like I’m on top of the world and all I’ve done is take the fantasy you provided and run with it.

Which is embarrassing, because I started writing these letters because I wanted to give you something. You’ve seemed so melancholy ever since last fall and I wanted to let you know that someone sees you and cares. And here I am, selfishly imagining you when I can’t let you do the same, because if you knew who I am I don’t think you’d want me. I’m pretty far outside of your type, judging by anyone I’ve ever seen you with or noticed you show interest in. I listen to music you would probably hate. I don’t like sports, be it playing or spectating. Our high school experiences are on such opposite ends of the spectrum that we practically went to different schools. Your house is a castle and mine a hovel. We have nothing in common but I am filled to bursting with devotion to you that I can’t even.

Do you really want me to continue writing, Steve? I know you’ve asked me to be before, but we’re in new territory here. I know I started it, but I really do feel like it was maybe uncool of me and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

I’ll follow your example and end on a different note. How is it going with your coworker? I don’t have a steady nine to five myself—or the part time version, I guess—but I imagine working with someone who likes to butt heads with you is pretty grating. If it’s an issue, I hope it resolves soon. Wishing you as little stress in your life as possible, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P.S. Before you ask, I do recall saying in my last letter that I don’t mind weird. To clarify: I will accept just about any weirdness from you, sweetheart, but it’s different when I do it. Forgive me my dramatics, but at the end of the day, everyone is their own harshest critic.

Eddie is suffering. He’s haunted, too distracted to plan his next campaign or practice guitar—which, incidentally, are the things that usually distract him too much from things like school work or finding a respectable job. All he can think about is Steve, and by inevitable extension Steve’s ninja scenario.

He’d laughed at first, okay? (Before, you know. Getting really, really into it.) Not in a derogatory way, but because it was actually a creative solution to something that a lot of dudes might not even consider a problem.

Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are?

Because, just, Jesus H. Christ. Eddie has fooled around with guys in places out in Indy, and being liked for who he is doesn’t really factor in. So this is… new. He feels almost seen, something that should be impossible while he’s still shrouded in anonymity, and yet Steve seems to be holding space for that veil to be lifted someday.

‘Someday’ suggests a mutual future of some sort, which is sparking a dangerous ember of hope in Eddie’s foolish heart. And in the meantime there’s always the mental image of getting to secretly blow the prettiest boy in Hawkins—

Fuck, he needs to get out of this tin oven of a trailer. He’d put his latest letter in the mail two days ago, then come straight home to jerk off some more and smoke his way into absolute paranoia that this time he’d really blown it. Gone full throttle on that fantasy, then told Steve not to want him, then said something dumb about that girl he works with, and then still mailed it?!

He needs fresh air.

(He goes and checks his PO box.)

Any air.

(No reply yet, but the Hawkins Post Office isn’t known for its speed or efficiency.)

Air conditioning.

It doesn’t surprise him, really, when he ends up pulling his van into the parking lot surrounding Starcourt Mall. Because Steve Harrington is haunting him and will keep doing so matter where he goes, so why not here? Eddie doesn’t even bother to fight the way his feet carry him towards Scoops. Wouldn’t be the first time, after all—Steve’s ass looks great in both green and blue—but he tries not to do it too often.

All he wants is a crumb, a tiny direct interaction with the guy, even if Steve continues to remain none the wiser.

Steve is suffering. Which really grates, because he woke up in a great mood! He’s already working on a reply to the latest letter—once again all stocked up on paper, so he can rewrite it nicer if he makes a mess of it this time. Every time he thinks about it his chest (and, okay, sometimes his dick too, he’s still a teenaged boy) fills up with giddy warmth knowing that his Secret Admirer liked his dumb ninja idea. Specifically said it wasn’t stupid and that they had to stop writing to masturbate about it.

(Girls do that, right? Maybe not as often as dudes, but he really has had phone sex with enough of them to know they’re not necessarily opposed. That wasn’t a clue, Secret Admirer still could be either.)

So today should be going great, but instead he’s felt a headache coming ever since he hopped in his car to drive to work. Too late to take anything for it, though Advil or Tylenol sometimes barely dent in these things. He puts his sunglasses on for the drive and into the mall in the hope that will buy him some time before the worst of it hits.

If only he could stay home, laying in his room as dark as he can make it with a cold washcloth over his eyes and a can of Coke with a crazy straw at the ready. Even better if he could somehow just call and get Secret Admirer to come over to keep him silent company, refreshing the washcloth for him when it gets warm…

“Shades aren’t part of the uniform, cool guy,” Robin says flatly when he walks into Scoops through the back. “I don’t care how hungover you are, company rules.”

“I’m not hungover on a damn Tuesday,” he grumbles back. But maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe the headache will hold off at least until his break, then if he clocks out early at least he still got half a shift’s pay. Maybe if it holds off a little longer after that he’ll be able to get all the way home without being a danger behind the wheel.

He leaves the sunglasses folded on the break room table and starts helping her haul fresh tubs of ice cream from the walk-in to the display case out front.

It’s going to be a long shift.

By the time Eddie gets to Scoops, there’s a line so long it’s practically out the door. Frowning, he checks his watch for the time, something he hadn’t bothered to do in the van, and realizes it’s probably the tail end of the lunch rush. Super.

Steve and the girl he works with are both behind the counter, taking turns scooping and ringing up each individual customer or group and then cycling back around to help the next in line. As he waits, Eddie watches from behind the cover of his long hair and realizes that Steve seems off today. He keeps squinting under the fluorescent lights, distracted, sometimes asking people to repeat themselves to both their and his coworker’s obvious annoyance. But it’s not until some kid shrieks that she asked for double fudge chunk and he’s scooping regular chocolate that Steve winces and brings his shoulders up like he’s trying to cover his ears, and oh. Oh, Eddie thinks he knows what this is.

Sometimes I get these headaches that really mess me up. It doesn’t just hurt, it’s like all the lights get way too bright and sometimes my eyes go blurry for a while. Great parting gift from the concussion. Ice cream helps sometimes though, which is convenient if I’m at work.

The tiniest amount of research at the library (or, in fact, two afternoons in a row) had told Eddie that this could be anything from migraines to a brain tumor, but given the concussion the former is more likely. If Steve is having one of those, this is probably the worst place for him to be: loud, bright, and enough people crowded into the ice cream parlor that even with mall air conditioning it feels lukewarm in here, when what he needs is quiet, dark, and a cold compress. And this is not the kind of place where he can just throw up and take a nap—not without the risk of getting in trouble, maybe fired.

Eddie knows that Steve is going to keep trying to power through it, because he knows all about how the guy is saving up to move out of his parents’ house. (Castle… Oh god, he’d called it a castle in his last letter, why had he done that? He knows that Steve wants out of there, wants somewhere cozy and lived-in as opposed to his mother’s taste in cool and impersonal decor.)

There’s nothing he can do but wait as the line inches forward. As a slight tremor starts to show in Steve’s hands, which Eddie is watching like a hawk. By the time Eddie, still last in line, is within touching distance of the display case it’s a full on shake, and Steve fumbles his ice cream scoop trying to spin it into the side loop on his apron.

The clatter is loud against the background elevator music version of a The Beach Boys song. Steve’s coworker—Robin, according to her name tag—looks up sharply at the sound, but an uncertain kind of concern seeps into her frown when she gets a good look at him. “Steve? You alive over there?”

Steve, who has gone very pale, gives a slight shake of his head that seems to make his whole body sway. “Need a clean scoop. I’ll just… run to the back,” he manages, then stumbles towards the swinging doors marked Employees Only. There’s a choked noise as soon as he’s out of sight, and Robin seems to come to the same conclusion as Eddie: he won’t be back for a while.

To her credit, she puts on a passably bright fake smile at the lady Steve had been helping, taking her mostly finished cup from the counter where Steve had left it and adding the requested chocolate syrup on top.

Finally, it’s Eddie’s turn. But now he’s the one who’s distracted, trying to squint through the frosted glass of the window to the back room for any sign of Steve moving around.

“What can I get you, Munson?” Robin asks loudly, a little annoyed as though it’s not the first time she’s asked. Oops.

He also feels a little bad that he didn’t recognize her when she obviously knows him, likely from his lunchtime cafeteria soapbox spectacles, but ever since the first time he’d failed senior year he’d tuned out on all the rising underclassmen besides Steve pretty hard.

Eddie orders while glancing towards the window again and fiddling with the chain attached to his belt loop. “Actually, make that two cones. One for me and one to cheer up your fellow at sea.”

Robin wrinkles her nose. “You, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, want to buy Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington an ice cream cone?”

He shrugs, something inside him shriveling because, yeah, that would seem weird from an outsider’s perspective, the way he usually rails against the jocks. Maybe he’s a little bit of a hypocrite in his affections, but whatever Steve was in high school he’s actually a massive sweetheart now. “Yeah, well. You know Hargrove gave him a concussion last year? King Steve may have been a douchebag to us commoners, but at least he’s not as bad as that piece of shit.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, but finishes scooping into the first cone and reaches for a second. “Are you sure there wasn’t some house party he was at last night? Everyone knows he got that title from being Keg King.”

It feels stupid to go to high school parties when I’m not in high school anymore. They’re too loud and just a couple of beers hit me like a brick because of my stupid messed up head. Partying used to be a good outlet but I can’t do it anymore.

“Nah,” Eddie dismisses immediately, mind scrambling for a reason he can give for being so certain. “Nothing last night, or I would’ve been there. You know, for business purposes.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “By the way, if you ever need a little relief from the grind of dealing with shitty customers…”

It feels sleezy, and isn’t something he usually does, but it helps sell it.

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” Robin says quickly, and moves to the register. “That’s three dollars and fifty cents.”

“Don’t forget the sprinkles,” he reminds her while digging the money out of his pocket. With that handed over and sprinkles dumped on, he takes his one cone and gestures grandly to the other. “And maybe don’t mention to his Highness that that was from me. It’d be a shame if he had the same reaction as you and simply tossed away good ice cream.”

That would crush him, actually. So even though he wants so, so badly to stay, he forces himself to leave before he tries to eavesdrop, just to be safe.

“Steve?”

Startled, Steve jolts upright from where he’d been slumped in one of the break room chairs, wet paper towel sliding off his face and landing in his lap. The motion makes his head throb harder, and it’s all he can do to swallow down a groan. “Huh?” he grunts, eyes only open enough to make out Robin’s general shape.

“Why’d you turn the lights off back here?” she asks, quieter this time. He can’t make out her tone at all through the sharp pain threatening to burst out of his skull, but he’s grateful for the lower volume. And that she doesn’t turn the lights back on.

“‘S not a hangover,” he mumbles. Which, maybe he missed a step in that explanation. It was there in his head somewhere, surely she’ll make the connection? Or maybe just think he’s got some sort of stomach flu, since he totally threw up in the break room trash can. Hopefully in it. He’s… pretty sure he didn’t miss.

“I’m getting that.” Very gently, Robin takes his hand and wraps it around an ice cream cone. “Here. Generous donation from a concerned citizen who shall remain nameless.”

Steve blinks down at the strawberry ice cream in a cone with rainbow sprinkles.

Either this is the biggest coincidence in the world, or Secret Admirer was here.

Suddenly his eyes are silently streaming, because he could use that comforting presence right about now. It shines through on every page—this overwhelming care that he’s never felt from anyone else, not even Nancy. Whoever it is must have remembered the one time he’d mentioned in one of his reply letters that ice cream helps his headaches sometimes.

Steve cries because he wishes they would’ve just brought it themselves and done away with the mystery because he so, so longs to feel like someone’s in his corner now. Someone to give him a hug and rub just above his temples, which sometimes helps too. He takes a lick of the ice cream and chews on sprinkles and the tears come a little faster because he wants.

“Oh shit,” Robin whispers, dropping into the seat across from him. “Are you crying? Steve—Steve, it’s okay, if you’re not feeling up to it I’m not gonna make you go back out there again. Especially not if you’re likely to ralph on the customers but, like, mostly because I’d feel like an asshole. I mean, I heard the rumors about you getting a concussion and that’s why you quit the basketball team and swim teams, but…” She hesitates, holding her hands up like he’s a bomb that she’s worried might explode in her face. “Just, it’s okay. You stay back here and I’ll finish the rest of the shift, you don’t even have to clock out. I’ll handle it.”

For a moment, with hurt in his head and an ache in his heart and strawberry flavor on his tongue, Steve thinks it could be her. Maybe Robin is his Secret Admirer and it was her own idea to scoop this cone for him. But then she leaves, and that doesn’t feel right either.

Steve is haunted by a faceless, nameless person that he’s probably crossed paths with without knowing god knows how many times. Or rather, by their absence.

Tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington

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honeygrahambitch · 2 months

Text

Summary: Will is jealous.

"So, I can come by when I'm done with work. If Jack doesn't get any new ideas, that should be around 6 p.m." Will said as he parked his car at the FBI academy.

"Make it a 6:30?" Hannibal replied from the other end of the phone. "My masseur is here until then."

"If your back is stiff just say so, maybe I could do something about it."

"As much as I trust your strong Louisiana hands, I'd rather have someone with actual medical knowledge crack my bones, darling."

"Are you saying I'm too rough?"

"I'm just saying, not complaining. I'm looking forward to seeing you later. Don't have dinner at work, I'm cooking for you."

"Yes, sir." Will said and hanged up. Having a cute little woman come over to give him a massage was so stupid. Very in character for Hannibal but stupid to Will. However, the thought didn't give Will a break the whole day.

"Beverly." Will finally spoke after overthinking the dialogue for fourteen times in his mind. "Your time to shine has come. I need relationship advice."

Beverly's eyes lit up like two gemstones. "Finally."

"It's not actually advice that I need. I suppose it's some kind of reassurance."

"I'm all ears."

"Today I learnt Hannibal is getting weekly massages."

"That's honestly not surprising."

"I suppose but don't these things get kind of touchy?"

"You're jealous."

"No."

"The day I see you acting jealous has come."

"I'll leave now."

"No, no, no." Beverly jumped in front of him. "Keep going."

"Hannibal is obsessed with me. A young woman in a short skirt and magic hands can't change that."

"You said it yourself, Hannibal is obsessed with you. You shouldn't be worried."

"I'm not worried about what Hannibal could do. But what if she is into him? Why is a woman touching my partner?"

Jack had entered the room just as Will was saying that so he quickly decided to leave before he would get involved into some drama that would have nothing to do with the case.

"Talk to Hannibal about this. I get your point."

"That would only prove I'm insecure."

"No, that would prove you care and that you are actually serious about what the two of you got going on. Hannibal would appreciate your honesty."

"Whatever. I wasted too much time thinking about it. I might bring it up later during dinner."

"I would bring it up if I were you."

"Do you know how casual he was about it? My masseur leaves at 6:30." Will imitated Hannibal.

"Wait." Beverly said. "Did he say masseur or masseuse?"

"Masseur I think? Why?"

"That's not a cute woman in a skirt. That's a man."

Will stepped back until his back hit the desk. "A man is touching my man? I'm killing him."

"Hannibal or the guy?"

"Yes." Will replied and grabbed his car keys. He looked at his watch. If he left now he could still meet this guy and speak his mind. "How could Hannibal think I would be okay with this?"

"Because he is certainly not into that guy. We are talking about Hannibal, Will. He is devoted."

"Are you two done? We need to discuss-" Jack said as he entered again but Will and Beverly stormed right past him out of the room.

"I am the only man who gets to break his back."

"He will love to hear you saying that. Now, go, I will try to calm Jack down. He will lose his mind when he hears you left."

When Will parked his car in front of Hannibal's house, it was close to 6:30. He used the spare house keys he owned and bursted in, ready to catch a scene that would give him all the rights in the world to murder them both.

No such scene was happening. Instead, Hannibal and the man were just heading towards the front door. The masseur was probably about to leave and Hannibal was just guiding him out.

Will's anger reached new levels when his first thought was "they are already done".

"Hello, darling. Let me introduce you to Ben. You should let him take care of your ba-" Hannibal could not finish his sentence as Will stormed towards Ben, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up against the wall with a loud thud.

"You thought you could touch my man and get away with it?"

"Amore..." Hannibal started not lifting a finger. He was in fact entertained by Will's display of force.

"You're hiding behind your stupid job, hoping you can fool people around when all you are is a perverted scumbag. You're a homewrecker."

The man kept trying to defend himself but Will's grip was so tight that he could not formulate any coherent words.

"He was not actually." Hannibal said.

"Did he see you naked?" Will asked, dropping Ben on the floor and turning to Hannibal. The vein on his temple was threatening to burst.

"Yes."

"Did he touch you?"

"Appropriately." Hannibal replied carefully. "Can I make you some jasmine tea?"

"No." Will refused and grabbed Ben again before he could leave. "What would you do if I had a hot man come home to see me naked?"

"I would kill him. Shred his skin off. Butcher him."

"Then you get me." Will said and with a loud "crack", Ben's body stopped moving. Will dropped him on the floor.

"You can breath now. I'm all yours." Hannibal said, a pleased smile on his face.

That's when Will understood. He looked at the body. Then at Hannibal again.

"This was on purpose. You wanted to see how far I would go."

"And I am very satisfied."

"No kidding. Asshole. You manipulated me."

"I did not. I only told you I was getting a massage."

Will inhaled and exhaled loudly.

"Are you angry?" Hannibal asked the same way a kid would ask after doing something that annoyed his parents.

"Yes but mostly relieved. Don't you dare trick me like that again. I was very serious about it."

"That I have observed. It was impressive. I knew you had it in you but I didn't know you would let me see it. Thank you, Will."

"Shut up. I'm hungry." Will said as he passed by him and headed towards the kitchen.

"What about the body? Will? I really had a nice massage, don't make me drag this body into the basement. Give me a hand. Will?"

"Deal with that on your own." Will shouted from the kitchen.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

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mccromy · 3 months

Text

The beauty of QuanYin is that they have all the things that make HuaLian so good, but instead of bringing them together, it teared them appart.

I am talking about faith.

The things is, half of the ship is an autistic guy who's extremely good at one thing (kicking ass) and often gets infantilized by other characters or treated as if he's stupid, just for ignoring social niceties and refusing to entertain the idea that the only person who's shown him kindness is actually an evil lying snake who always secretly hated him.

And the other half of the ship is a guy who's main goal was always to just be a good person AND kick ass, but who's also always been an overachiever, so he wants to be Perfect at being kind and aims to ascend as a Martial God. His standards for himself are so high, he believes that thinking unkind thoughts means he failed (got a bad grade at being good), and doesn't understand why the man who only cares and understand actions, facts, and spoken words would believe him to be a Perfectly Kind person.

Because Yin Yu not only was outwardly kind to Quan Yizhen, but he also always tried to get others to be good to him as well. What's more, he didn't start resenting or thinking badly of Quan Yizhen until their ascension, and even then he never took it out on Quan Yizhen. Until he snapped at the worst possible moment.

Quan Yizhen knows Yin Yu is the sort of person that would always choose to do the right thing, no matter how difficult. So, if Yin Yu ever chose to hurt him, then either it must've been a misunderstanding, or he must have had a good reason. Because for Quan Yizhen, if there was anybody in the world he could trust, it was Yin Yu.

And Yin Yu, who's set unachievable standars for himself, feels that resenting someone who's blameless makes him awful and unworthy, and not merely human and flawed. And having Quan Yizhen see him as the man Yin Yu wants to be, but actually isn't, hurts him deeply, because he's not good or kind, he's petty and jealous. I feel he must have been terrified of disappointing Quan Yizhen, which he probably saw as an unavoidable outcome now that his shidi had the opportunity to truly shine in heavens

And it's not only Quan Yizhen believing Yin Yu to be perfect (which he doesn't, but I'll get to that later) but it's also Yin Yu believing Quan Yizhen is perfect. He's everything he wants to be, a true Martial God. And whatever flaw makes Quan Yizhen so unpalatable to others, Yin Yu sees them as unavoidable of being Quan Yizhen. Not good or bad, but expected, justifiable. (Can you really get angry at the sun if it burns you, how can you blame a bee for stinging you? Did you really expect you wouldn't get wet walking unprotected in the pouring rain.)

If Quan Yizhen is arrogant and tactless it's because he's naturally strong and honest. Quan Yizhen's bluntness means he's not two faced (like Yin Yu), it doesn't matter that Quan Yizhen can't read the room, because Quan Yizhen is above caring how he comes across to others (like Yin Yu does), if you think Quan Yizhen is annoying then that's not his fault, it's yours for not being as good as he is (Yin Yu sometimes finds him annoying).

QuanYin parallels HuaLian not only in the devotion, tirelessly searching, ghost/god relationship, but in the "unconditional belief in the other" more so even, because they had more time spent together getting to know each other. This faith wasn't built on sacrifices, on saving lives, on deeds of decisive righteousness.

This faith was built on years of growing up together.

Quan Yizhen believes in Yin Yu, because he knows Yin Yu will always choose to do the right thing. Yin Yu believes in Quan Yizhen, because he knows Quan Yizhen is as honest as he is loyal. They see the best in the other and know that it's fact (and it is!) but at the same time, that certainty hurt them both in a way it never did hualian. With Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, that unconditional faith meant salvation. To Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu, it led to them falling apart.

Quan Yizhen knows Yin Yu is good, because Yin Yu always chooses to do good things. Yin Yu thinks himself to be a liar and knows Quan Yizhen thinks Yin Yu is good, because Quan Yizhen would never lie. Because Yin Yu will always want to be good, he won't admit to Quan Yizhen his steadfast belief in him hurts him, because it would mean admitting just how small and petty he is, and it could lead to Quan Yizhen seeing Yin Yu's true self, and as Quan Yizhen is frank to a painful degree, he would immediately let him know how disappointed he is. And as Quan Yizhen is so honest, he literally calls it as he sees it. If Quan Yizhen sees Yin Yu as not enough, it means Yin Yu is not enough. Quan Yizhen is not to blame for Yin Yu's flaws, and so the right thing to do (for Quan Yizhen) is to keep being patient and kind, and not take out his own frustrations on a person who would never willingly hurt him. To keep Quan Yizhen seeing Yin Yu as perfect.

Their faith in the other keeps them apart. And this is because unlike with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, they didn't start as god and believer, but as martial brothers of the same sect, who eventually reached divinity, and held for the other a certainty of righteousness only the most devoted would hold for a god.

And the sad thing is that they were both right. But the things that make someone good for one of them, would not cut it for the other.

Yin Yu thinks, if my actions are good but hide resentment and hate, then they aren't good at all. They're fake, and so, worthless.

Quan Yizhen thinks, if my actions hurt others even when there was only love and good intentions behind them, then what good are they? They're worthless.

Yin Yu ends up hating Quan Yizhen, but not as Jian Yu or the other gods or disciples hated him, just for being as he was. Yin Yu hates Quan Yizhen because Quan Yizhen turned him into the sort of person he never wanted to be. He resents him because Quan Yizhen shone so bright Yin Yu realized he was a candle flame under daylight. Because Quan Yizhen was good in a way Yin Yu would never be, plagued with envy and not a lick of talent.

Yin Yu doesn't actually blame Quan Yizhen for his downfall, he blames Quan Yizhen for leading Yin Yu to cause it. Yin Yu hates Quan Yizhen because he makes Yin Yu hate himself. And, in the end, Yin Yu will always hate himself more than he could ever hate Quan Yizhen. Yin Yu hates himself, because he hates someone he loves. He hated himself because he couldn't understand how someone could ever want to hurt Quan Yizhen, and then Yin Yu hurt him in the worst way possible. The moment Yin Yu lost control, his ugly inner self spilled out. Yin Yu hurt someone good, someone who never deserved to be hurt, and besides that dares resent him for showing Yin Yu how rotten he was inside. Which makes Yin Yu hate himself further, because now he's become the sort of person he always hated the most. And even at the end, as he died for Quan Yizhen, he could not let go of his resentment. He just couldn't let it go.

There's no end to it. It's self fueling and self fulfilling.

On his part, Quan Yizhen would never blame Yin Yu. He would never hate him.

Let's look at this through a more personal lent. I know many people, especially neurodivergent people, struggle with the constant anxiety of your friends and family secretly hating you (I know I do). Finding out that someone you thought was your friend actually couldn't stand you, would make you feel cheated, betrayed. And most likely, it would lead you to believe this was your fault. If your friend hated you, it's because you're unlovable (by the way, that's not how it works, but it is how it makes people feel).

Now, people never cared about Quan Yizhen's feelings. They would talk badly about him with no regard if he was listening, would be hostile if not patronizing. Would openly resent him for things he couldn't understand, blame him for things out of his control (for example, blatant favoritism from his teachers).

But.

There was always someone who cared about Quan Yizhen's feelings. Who never spoke badly of him. Who always admonished the people who patronized him or blamed him, even if Quan Yizhen was not around to hear him defend him. Who actually got into trouble by taking responsibility for Quan Yizhen's actions, repeatedly. Who always took Quan Yizhen's side, who saw talent in him when others only saw a dirty street rat. Someone who patiently reassured him that if others thought Quan Yizhen was annoying, it was their fault for getting annoyed, and not Yizhen's.

Someone who, when given the chance to leave him behind in a way nobody would blink twice at, brought him along and kept him by his side. Someone who chose him time and time again.

Quan Yizhen did have an inkling that he sometimes annoyed Yin Yu, and was fully aware that he got him into trouble (Jian Yu was never shy when it came to shouting just how much Quan Yizhen was dragging Yin Yu down). And despite all of that, Yin Yu stood by him and cared for him.

There was a time he knew Yin Yu loved him, and if Yin Yu didn't love him at least he would never hurt him, he would never let others hurt him.

And then, suddenly, Yin Yu tried to kill him. In strange, extreme circumstances: right after Quan Yizhen had brutally and unwillingly murdered a number of people, as he was wearing a cursed garment that forced him to do anything Yin Yu told him to, he shouted at Quan Yizhen to kill himself.

It was a series of events that made no sense in the eyes of someone who knew Yin Yu as well as Quan Yizhen did.

So it was either a huge misunderstanding, or Quan Yizhen finally fucked up so bad he became unlovable in the eyes of the only person who mattered.

And now everybody in heaven and earth spoke horribly of the only person who ever cared for Quan Yizhen. The people who claimed to follow and worship Quan Yizhen put on plays meant to humiliate Yin Yu. Others expected him to agree that Yin Yu was a liar, a jealous two-faced snake.

To Quan Yizhen, if they were right ( they weren't) and Yin Yu was a liar who always secretly hated him, then that meant nobody had ever loved Quan Yizhen. And if they were wrong (they were) then it meant Quan Yizhen hurt Yin Yu so badly, did something so awful, the only choice Yin Yu had, the only right choice at the moment, was to make Quan Yizhen kill himself.

Or, it was all a big misunderstanding (hopefully).

Quan Yizhen doesn't think Yin Yu is perfect, he doesn't want him to be either. All he wants is to be good for Yin Yu, to Yin Yu. He loves Yin Yu just as he is.

Yin Yu already believes Quan Yizhen is good, and to, and for Yin Yu. Is Yin Yu who is bad. Yin Yu who's unlovable.

Hua Cheng had faith in Xie Lian's inherent goodness. When Xie Lian stopped believing in himself, Hua Cheng's faith and unconditional love saved him.

But Hua Cheng never saw himself as an equal, just as a stepping stone, the incense in Xie Lian's altar. He loved and worshipped him, and he was content to see him safe and happy. And when Xie Lian saw him as someone deserving of love, even if Hua Cheng didn't believe it himself, he believed in Xie Lian

Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu wanted to be equals, they wanted to stand side by side. And to achieve said equality, they set standards to strive for, based on the way they saw the other. But they would never reach their goals together, because they set them in opposite directions.

Had they started as god and devotee, then it would've played similarly as HuaLian did: I am worthy because you believe I'm worthy. I am lovable because you love me. I'm good because you think I'm good. I can do anything because you trust me.

For QuanYin, though, it went: I am unworthy because I'm not like you. I am unlovable because I can't love myself through your eyes. I'm not good because I'm not good the way you are. Please don't trust me, I'll disappoint you. I'll let you down, I'll let you down, I'll let you down.

Yin Yu could not stand the idea of Quan Yizhen secretly hating him, so he hid to never be faced with it. Quan Yizhen would gladly take Yin Yu hating his guts, as long as he hated him within arm's reach.

Miscommunication caused by knowing each other so well, they were convinced they could not miscommunicate.

Self loathing born out of loving the things that made the other hate themselves.

But since their inner turmoil and personal struggles manifest in two clowns running in circles, people tend to, understandably, overlook them in favor of the considerably more dramatic BeefLeaf, or the outwardly antagonistic FengQing —both ships counting with further on-text development, higher stakes, and heavier emotional baggage than our humble, relatable QuanYin.

#THIS IS LONG #quanyin #yin yu #quan yizhen #tgcf #welcome to my quanyin agenda #I needed to spill these obsessive thoughts somewhere #mip

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