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krysmcscience · 2 years

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Full view here!

What happens when a human has to travel around on a ship full of Impostors? Probably shenanigans. And drama. And hot sexy times.

Anyway, this is the main 'crew' in Breach, a story I've been slowly plodding away at for a few months now. The human on board isn't actually properly introduced to the entirety of the crew until halfway through the story, and a majority of said crew is mostly only talked about before that point, but I wanted to pin their designs down, so...here they are, I guess!

Character and story details under the cut, if you're interested~

The actual main and secondary characters are in the middle, so even though the narrative doesn't actually refer to anyone other than Red by color (since the story is only tangentially Among Us-related), I'll be listing them that way first. Aside from the main human, all names are assumed identities, as Impostors don't actually have names, or even words for anything due to the way they communicate with each other (even the term 'Impostor' is an in-universe Among Us joke gone horridly wrong). Their pronouns are also mostly suggestion, rather than any legitimate preference, as they have almost zero concept of gender.

Mains:

Blue, Qīng Summers (he/him) - Chinese-American goofball who ran away from his family to avoid being pushed into their marketing business, Qīng was on his way to a colony college on Titan when the research vessel he hitched a ride on was attacked. Having unwittingly gotten the attention of the alien infiltrator on board by admitting he thought Impostors were "kinda hot", rather than being killed, Qīng was instead dragged onto the infiltrator's ship in secret for some "fun", only to kick his captor in the dick(?) and make a break for it. Though he evaded most of the crew's notice during the ensuing chase, he was soon caught by the lead security officer, brought somewhere safe after some awkward dealings with the ship's captain, and quickly assured he would be returned to human society. As said security officer is incredibly kind, considerate, and attractive as fuck, Qīng is as of yet unsure if he wants to return at all. He is optimistic, a hopeless romantic, and wears his emotions on his sleeve; he often comes across as silly, and doesn't handle problems well. He enjoys parkour and dancercise, collects sci-fi B-movies, and has a deep fascination for all things alien - Impostors in particular, because he's a fukken xenophile.

Red, Jasper "Red" O'Floinn (he/him) - Lead security officer on the ship, Red was initially slated to become an infiltrator, with his scores outstripping the vast majority of his peers. However, he was caught in the middle of a secret drunken affair with a human, something seen as incredibly shameful for his species, and was rendered ineligible for field work just before assignment. He was only able to get his current position (years later) with help from his childhood friend, and while he still goes out in secret to illicit xenophilia clubs, he fully expected to never get involved with humans beyond the occasional one-night stand. Finding Qīng on board, and having to protect him both from the infiltrator who abducted him and the malevolent captain who would happily torture him to death, changes that very quickly. Red is as of yet unsure if this is a good thing, as while he would love to be in a proper relationship with a human, it would put him in a terribly compromising position, given that his species is currently at war over humanity's encroachment into their territory. Red is very practical and calm, and keeps his opinions and emotions mostly to himself; he is well-known for his ability to settle conflicts between others, and strives for fairness and compassion above all else. He enjoys farming and landscaping, often drawing out plans for his home territory in great detail, and finds Earth history to be fascinating.

Secondaries:

White, Daniel "Ghost" Fulton (he/him) - Front line infiltrator of the ship, and the reason Qīng is on board, Ghost is (usually) the best of the best at what he does: blending in with human research and military crews, and then quickly slaughtering them all before they can reach Impostor territory. Unfortunately, he is very much ruled by his passions, and has some xenophilic leanings he's been repressing all his life, so not only do his kills tend to be vicious, but hearing Qīng express an attraction for Impostors gave him some very stupid and awful ideas, which were not helped by the fact that Ghost is less than great at taking 'no' for an answer. Case in point: Ghost would be willing to sleep with just about any human, but especially Qīng, and has slept with nearly every single member of his crew, outside of Red (who has zero interest in other Impostors), the captain (who wants something deeper than mere casual flings), and Red's childhood friend (who has actual standards, thank you very much). Ghost is generally laid-back, and incredibly confident; he is widely seen as a flirt and a jokester, and has unshakable loyalty towards those he cares for. He enjoys fashion, often designing his own clothes, and is equal parts enamored with and derisive of the paranormal; his own nickname is a tongue in cheek reference to that conflicted interest.

Yellow, Marisol Quinto (she/her) - Communications expert and Red's childhood friend, Marisol is the only reason Red managed to get a job on an infiltrator ship at all, and has spent much of her life building her skills, career, and social network. Initially, she wanted to use her keen understanding of human language, cyphers, and coding from within her home territory, with the expectation that by the time she and Red were assigned together, they would already be in the process of starting a family like they promised each other years prior. Unfortunately, Red being caught with a human sort of dashed that expectation, and with a hormonal disorder that leaves her less than appealing to other Impostors - and thus unlikely to have a family - Marisol decided to instead accept a ship-bound position. Concern and care for Red brought her to eventually assist him in getting more respectable work, and though she is still bitter about being blindsided by his xenophilia, she won't out his ongoing indiscretions to their crew. She hopes he'll change his mind about her, and can't help being suspicious of whatever is going on between her best friend and the weird human that Ghost smuggled on board, but she tries her best to stay positive and focus on doing what she loves. Marisol is social to the extreme, and a mother hen to everyone on the ship; she is the go-to person to spill woes to, though she guards her own secrets jealously, and tends to shut down when she feels lonely. She enjoys cute things, especially clothing, and loves gardening, with sunflowers being her obvious favorite.

Purple, Shio Musashi (they/them) - The First Infiltrator, and now prime captain of the infiltration fleet, thanks in part to a great tragedy that befell their clan, Shio has cultivated a great hatred towards humanity throughout the course of their life. This hatred has swelled to the point of them refusing any field assignment that would require consistent interaction with humans, and intentionally forgetting just about everything they were forced to learn about Earth and its people. Shio enjoys watching humans suffer, and upon being informed of Qīng - the first breach on a ship under their command (supposedly), and a breach that only Ghost, Red, and Marisol were aware of so far - they chose not to eject him, refusing to allow Qīng such a quick death. Mistakenly believing that Red hates humans as well, especially since his secret attraction had long since ruined any chance of him becoming an infiltrator, Shio offered him a deal: that in exchange for Red's silence on the breach, leaving the crew none the wiser, Red would be allowed to keep Qīng in private for "stress relief". Shio is as yet unaware that Red only accepted the deal to protect Qīng (with the added intent of getting him home safely), and thus they later allow Qīng among the crew proper in order to better witness his "suffering". Shio is, in a word, intense - to other Impostors, they are stern but fair, and viciously protective of those they're close with. To humans, they are callous and ruthless, going out of their way to ensure pain and suffering. Shio's career takes up the majority of their time, with their family-oriented priorities taking up the rest, but they enjoy making games of things, and thus have a penchant for making (perhaps ill-advised) deals for fun and occasionally profit. They especially like games and deals that lead to human misery, which plays a very large part in their affection for Ghost, who openly goes along with their whims.

Tertiaries (left side):

Orange, Cam Ngo (she/her) - Inventory manager and general spitfire, Cam knows barely anything about humans other than that she Does Not Like Them - humans have hurt a lot of people she cares about. Mostly no-nonsense, which puts her somewhat at odds with the more playful crew members on board (chiefly Ghost), and a bit of a bully to whoever she doesn't like (chiefly humans), though she has a secret heart of gold that only those who earn her approval get to see.

Green, Verdell Dubois (they/them) - Persistence infiltrator and the second most social butterfly on the entire ship next to Marisol, Verdell is all about learning everything they can about everyone around them. They don't necessarily care if what they learn is accurate, either, because they also thrive on drama; something they often drive Cam up the wall with. While they're not as efficient of an infiltrator as Ghost, Verdell is better at actually gaining the trust of their targets long-term, as they are quite adept at reading a room. They are also not vicious about their kills, as they have no personal beef with humans - although the one they love was badly wronged by rogue human soldiers, Verdell isn't the type to blame an entire group for the actions of a few rotten individuals.

Black, Daruk Varma (he/him) - Security officer, and Number One Human-Hater on board, Daruk takes his job very seriously, which means any human in his sights has to die posthaste. His entire clan and territory was destroyed by rogue human soldiers shortly before his career assignment, leading Shio to snatch him up for their crew in solidarity, and the two have been fast friends ever since. Qīng's presence on board the ship is a source of great fury for Daruk, as various things keep preventing him from killing the "threat" - said things range from Qīng's incredible running ability, to Ghost playing one of his stupid pranks right in the middle of the damn hallway, to Daruk's very own superior officer, Red, who is absolutely fucking Qīng on the down-low, Daruk has zero doubts about it. Putting that aside, he and Verdell bicker constantly thanks to an ongoing rivalry, the source of which Daruk cannot determine for the life of him, as he actually quite likes Verdell and would much rather kiss them instead.

(Verdell and Daruk get marginally longer bits than the other tertiaries, as they have more impact on certain story beats than the others.)

Tertiaries (right side):

Brown, Alondra Novar (she/her) - Chief engineer, Alondra is shy and reclusive, but cheery and sweet once someone gets her talking. Outside of her two usual tagalongs, of which she is the unspoken leader, Ghost is the most adept at getting her out of her shell, as she finds his confidence bolstering for her. She is very outspoken about the family she wants to have, though she is an oddity in that she explicitly wants a willing human host for her young. This is odd because carrying Impostor young to term is, without exception, fatal to the host, and absolutely no human would want to do it outside of being completely suicidal.

Navy, Derya Lagunov (she/her) - Backup infiltrator and very much the strong, silent type, Derya is not so much shy as she is a supportive listener. She finds talking to be a hassle, and doesn't like the feel of it, anyway, so much of her communication is either through contact (the means Impostors use to 'speak' to each other), or a mix of sign language and written word (when she has to deal with humans). Though she is not shy, and likes social interaction just fine, Derya takes a very long time to open up to others, as she is an intensely private individual.

Teal, Tawoos Hafeez (they/them) - Security officer and self-appointed wingman/bodyguard, Tawoos revels in the safety and happiness of others. This has earned them a very close friendship (sometimes with benefits) between Alondra and Derya, and a consistent stream of invitations to literally anywhere Ghost or Verdell can scheme up at a moment's notice. As their general temperament is similar, Tawoos gets along well with Red, and has great respect for his ability to resolve conflict.

(Yeah, I know Navy isn't a canon color, and Teal isn't either and could just as easily be Cyan, but whatever, don't at me, bro.)

Extra fun tidbits before I go sleep:

Humans are accidentally but also kind of on purpose colonizers again (whoops)

Technology is powered by god magic so I don't have to explain too much sciencey shit

"God" is a very tired college student who rapidly ascended over the course of one semester and "fixed" a bunch of shitty Earth things three centuries before the story starts, but also they're still technically...around? Everywhere??? It's a whole thing and yet also barely mentioned at all XD

There are other aliens but they only get brought up just long enough to make it clear that Impostors are chill with every other species except Humans, Specifically

Earth is called Terra now, and pretty much everyone hates it, but all the people in charge thought the change would be "unifying" so now it's Official

Turns out the only thing unifying about Terra is the vast majority of humans thinking it's stupid and getting offended when anyone calls them "Terrans"

When infiltrations first started and weren't yet deadly (or even dangerous), humans made a bunch of dumb jokes and pop culture references about it, which of course included Among Us

The jokes stopped being funny when whole crews started mysteriously dying out and the only message humanity got from the culprits more or less boiled down to 'fuck it, we guess we're Impostors, then :)'

Human civilians are almost never harmed, and even Impostors who don't like humans will try to help them get back to their own kind; human researchers and soldiers, however, are a whole other ballpark (i.e. totes fair game for Murder Time)

Humans still have not made any meaningful contact with the Impostors - only the xenophiles have managed it, and they ain't talkin', cuz if they talk they lose out on all that sweet, sweet alien D and tentacles

Xenophilia fetish clubs are called host clubs, because anyone not in the know - Impostor OR human - would get two wildly separate ideas about what a "host club" should be and thus think nothing of it

Red was never actually referred to as "Red" until Qīng came along, and Qīng initially called him that for lack of anything else to call the Big Security Dude With Red Bandana + Tentacles; it pretty quickly sticks because Red doesn't care and Qīng thinks it's cute

There are other Impostors on Shio's crew, of course, since ten people does not a crew make, but these ten are the only ones important to the plot, lol

The crew normally wear safety suits, all in white, like typical human crews; there are some customization choices made for the sake of aesthetics, of course (Red has a red bandana, Marisol has a sunflower brooch, Ghost has Slimer stickers in inappropriate places, and so on...)

Impostors are a tribal society from deep inside Charon but because of magic they are also technically spacefaring; they are everywhere in the Oort Cloud

Aaaand an Impostor's form is determined at birth by their host and some hosts are Basically Dragons :)

Sleep time now

#art #original characters #breach #should i tag this as among us???#cuz it's only...KINDA...?#like #among us literally existed in the story's canon XD #anyway the story has some dark elements but it's mostly sweet lighthearted romcom with scattered pining and angst #also i realized in retrospect that my two main antagonists are white and purple like a certain fic i love #uhhhh. whoops #ghost would be freaked the fuck out by that white tho tbh #and shio would take one look at purple's relationship with cyan and be like 'hmm. gross :)'#why am i still writing tags i should be ASLEEP

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benevolentcalamity · 3 years

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Be Our Guest

So uh.

This is a thing. That I am doing.

Anyway.

Alcina Dimitrescu x Female! Listener

Just so we’re clear this is too long to get to much so this’ll have a smut chapter next time. Just FYI. This is just implied smut but nothing happens, so enjoy.

Enjoy you stunning pomegranates

“Mother, I found her first - I should taste her blood!”

“No, me, I’m the one that said she was pretty!”

“Daughters, please. There’s plenty to go around, so don’t lose your heads.”

Through the throbbing pulsations in your head, you pry your eyes open enough to peer through your lashes. Three black clothed figures are in a perfect line, bickering amongst themselves until the towering white behind them reprimands them, patting them on their heads. It pushes through them, approaching you, until you can make out the figure.

A woman, undeniably tall, dressed elegantly in a white gown and hat, black gloved fingers fiddling with the cigarette holder with almost disturbing dexterity. Her red-painted lips stretch into an amused grin too big for her face, clearly noticing you rousing from unconsciousness. Kneeling, she reaches for you, patting your cheek.

“Wake up.” Her voice is more playful, like a mother ready to torture you with a day full of work. “Come now, wake up.”

Her patting grows harsher, and you blink a few times until she’s clear. By instinct you put your hand up in defense, and she backs away, her only objective having really been to wake you. Turning a bit to cough into your fist, you push down on the floor to sit upright, rubbing your eyes.

“She looked cuter passed out,” One of the black trio pouts, prompting one of the others to shush her.

The tall woman’s hand extends toward you, beckoning you. More confused than afraid, you take it, and she pulls - more like yanks - you to your feet. You feel a bit wobbly and maybe cold; a reminder that you are in fact alive, and here you are.

“Name?”

You blink, wrenching your attention from your momentary hunger pangs back to the woman. “E-excuse me, ma’am?”

“What is your name?”

Swallowing, you interlock your fingers to stop them from shaking. “[Name]. [Name] [Last Name].”

She nods. “Well met.” Almost flamboyantly, she puts her cigarette hand to her chest. “Alcina Dimitrescu - but you may address me as ‘Madam,’ ‘Ma’am,’ or ‘My Lady,’ understood?”

“Yes.” You don’t know what to do.

“... Well don’t stand there pouting, daughters, introduce yourselves.”

With visible glee, the black haired girl steps forward, giving you a somewhat snobbish grin through red-stained teeth. “Cassandra,” She sings, bowing her head.

Then the redhead. “Daniela.” Her smile is more... seductive, but one that signals to you her type of seduction isn’t the kind you’d want.

The blonde is last, her smile a Cheshire cat grin - one that simply says ‘danger’. Nothing more, nothing less. “Bela.”

“Good daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu grins in satisfaction, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, the moment we’ve waited for.” She then raises her hands, snapping her fingers.

“Yes, Mother!”

Cassandra and Daniela move to either of your sides, gripping your arms. They’re too strong to fight against, rendering you motionless in seconds. On your right, Daniella flashes you a smile, before gripping your wrist and slicing your palm with a curved blade.

You cry out, prompting her to move her lips to your ear. “Shhh... Plenty of time for screaming,” She purrs, stretching your arm out as Lady Dimitrescu approaches.

Wrenching your wrist from Daniela’s fingers, she leans down, pausing for a moment before dragging her tongue across your wound. Almost ravenously she does a few more strokes, sucking on it to get as much blood as she can. Fear and confusion bring nausea at the sight - you swallow whatever vomit threatens to wrench itself from you.

She pauses again, eyebrows raising, before her lips open into a red-stained grin as she stands straight.

“Sweet and succulent!” She declares, prompting the trio to close in on you more, holding onto your arm and partaking as well. “Now, now, daughters, we mustn’t be so hasty. This is just too good to disappear into the cellar.”

“String her up!” Bela grins. “Store her and we’ll drink from her when we wish!”

Daniela’s arm goes around your waist, her free hand holding your chin. “But she’s so cute - would it be fair to treat her like a pig?” “What do you say, Mother?” Cassandra asks.

With a quick onceover of you - why that includes an elevator look at you you’ve no idea - Lady Dimitrescu takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing a smoke ring toward your head. “Whether this girl has somewhere to go from here, it doesn’t matter,” She hums. “Her blood is some of the best we’ve had in a good while - she’s worth keeping alive.”

You swallow, Bela and Cassandra backing from you, Daniela moving behind you to keep cuddling you. “As of right now, she is a guest in our home,” Lady Dimitrescu continues. “I will deliberate as to what to do with her; Mother Miranda won’t need to know so long as she’s not making trouble. Daniela, show little [Name] where she’ll be staying.”

“Yes, Mother.” Daniella grips your arm, thrusting you outward as if dancing with you, before wrenching you back to her. With a sultry giggle she lifts you bridal-style into her arms, the other two waving at you as you’re sped away as though flying on a magical carpet.

It’s a smooth ride, one that’d easily repeatedly trick you into thinking you’re gliding instead of being carried, but a glance at Daniela’s grinning face reminds you that you’re indeed welcome - you’re not home.

A second passes, and she stops, putting you down onto your feet. However, her arms wind back around you, but around your shoulders, leaving you at the mercy of her teeth.

“Here we are!” She giggles, throwing her arm out, inviting you to look around the room. It’s large and... definitely more Versailles than any you’ve seen, but comfortable had it not been for the fact you’re here with women that could spell your demise.

Releasing you from her hold, Daniela circles in front of you, flashing you a smile alongside a tilt of her head. “I hope you enjoy your stay. And if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more...” She pauses for effect, running the blunt edge of her blade down your face. The cold steel freezes your spine, and your palms grow clammy. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

She replaces the touch of her blade with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. “And I’m warning you~” She sings, “You’d better not do anything to make Mother regret her well-placed mercy. You understand me, little one?”

Quivering, you nod. “I-I understand.”

Her smile grows to show her teeth, and her blade snakes around the back of your neck, forcing you to lean forward to avoid being cut. Mischievous, she leans forward as fell, planting a kiss on your cheek before retreating, dispersing into locust-like insects before leaving, the door somehow closing when the swarm leaves.

Stepping away from the door, your lips purse and release with emotions and sounds that crash against each other, creating a practical thunderstorm in your chest. Everything’s still spinning a bit; your head still has a nasty bump from when some smelly hairy man with a hammer jumped you in the village. Your brain’s foggy, but your memories are still intact. How long, though, is the question.

Deciding to examine the room, you walk around, taking your shoes off and holding them to avoid staining the rug. The first thing you notice is the vanity, gilded and polished to perfection. Sitting down in front of it, you comb your fingers through your hair, more to calm yourself down than anything. Eventually, your hands fall still in your lap, and you stare into the eyes of a girl powerless to stop whatever will happen to her in this castle.

Dread slowly twists your stomach, and you stand, meandering to the window. The snow falls swiftly, nearly obscuring the view; a telltale sign a snowstorm is brewing. No sense in trying to escape and risking frostbite.

“I guess... I just wait now,” you mutter.

Helpless, you head over to the bed. Shedding your coat, you fold it neatly and put it on the nightstand, crawling into the layers of blankets. It smells like linen that, though clean, hasn’t been touched in years, not even by the faintest speck of dust. What’s there instead is an oddly comforting aroma, like grandma’s house but if she were rich.

Reaching into your pocket, you tug out your phone. No signal.

You’re isolated, locked away, with no one knowing where you are.

The knowledge brings tears to your eyes, hanging over you as you tug the covers over your head, eventually curling up and drifting softly to sleep.

___

What rouses you from sleep isn’t your alarm clock as you’d have hoped, nor is it the chirp of the birds or your phone ringing asking where you’ve been. Rather, it’s your nose being, for lack of a better word, jiggled. Someone or something is poking the tip and wiggling it in circles.

Jerking your head a bit, you swat with your hand, opting to cover your nose, furrowing your brows.

Then a hand grips your wrist, and your eyes open. With black hovering above you, you’re thrown into perfect alertness, the red hair skirting over your cheek sending your palms down as you attempt to sit up properly.

Daniela grins maliciously at your reaction, licking her lips. “Mother needs you.”

As she says that, a swarm of bugs burst through the door, clouding around you for a moment. Their buzzing almost seems to mimic your cries, some landing on you to wrench more screaming from you, before they pull away from you, concentrating at the foot of the bed, eventually forming Cassandra, Bela eventually sauntering in as well.

“Y-Your mother’s asking for me?” You near-squawk.

Cassandra snorts. “Of course. What else?” She asks. “Mother really likes you. Now, upright.”

You’re so spooked by the intrusion and the presence of all three sisters that you hurriedly slide away from Daniela and onto the floor, sliding into your shoes. Swallowing, you jolt at the sisters approaching you, a bead of sweat falling from your brow when their hands raise.

“Oh shit.”

They each grip you with both hands, suddenly turning into insects aside from them and holding you in the air, and just like with only Daniela you’re gliding. Only this time, you’re screaming horrendously, but the sound is so drowned out by the triplets’ sadistic giggling you’re unsure you’re making a sound. One hand crawls up your leg, causing you to squirm, and for a moment their faces materialize just so you can see them laugh at you for a moment.

Through sharp turns and whatever else, you’re eventually unceremoniously tossed to your feet, standing in front of a door. Whirling around, the girls materialize again, waving at you before dispersing into their swarms, swirling around you to make you squeal before flying off, likely to get to their own duties. Biting your lip, you turn back around, raising your hand to knock on the door.

“Enter,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice calls. As you do, she continues, “Very good. At last, someone else around here with any sort of dignity and manners.”

“You... wanted to see me?” You ask, closing the door behind you.

“Sit.”

Peeking, you note the bench near the vanity where she’s sitting, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as it applies overwhelmingly red lipstick. Softly, you sit down in it, folding your hands on your knees.

“As you’re most definitely aware, I’ve had a discussion with my daughters as to what to do with you, and I’ve come to understand you’re certain to meet a grizzly demise if you attempt to leave this place.” The calm in her voice and the way she momentarily looks at you through the mirror twists your stomach. “... Ah. Dear girl, your heartbeat - I can hear it. It’s music to my ears.”

Pausing, she wipes some stray lipstick from the corner of her lips. From here, she looks normal sized, but you’re a good stretch from her. Swallowing, you try your best to remain composed. With no one coming to save you or even knowing you’re here, your best hope of survival is appealing to this giant of a woman.

“My daughters and I both adore you - and I mean adore you.” At first she cranes her neck, but then decides to turn her chair around, gesturing at you with her lipstick. “Look at you, my dear! Delicious blood, yes, but such pretty looks - it’d be a waste to just toss you down into the cellar.”

“So... what are you going to do to me?”

She throws her head back to laugh. “To you, the four of us can agree anything’s possible. With you, the decision itself is clear.” Her smile falls into a straight, business-y line, and you gulp. “You’ll become a resident of my castle, and you will not die a horrible, painful death.”

Relief at not dying washes over you, but then she stands and approaches you in what feels like a blink, and you flinch.

“However.” She uses a gloved hand to lift your chin. “You are not to leave, disobey, and you will repay us by allowing us to drink your blood. That is our condition. If you decide you don’t want to stay, then out of the good of my heart, I can promise you right now that your death in this room will be quick and painless.”

Your face grows cold. So you can be a personal bloodbag for all four denizens of the castle, or you can die. Splendid.

“Think about it. No one’s going to live to even see your face if they try to save you, and you’ll have the pleasure of being in my care as opposed to that fool Heisenberg,” She hums along with a chuckle deep in her bosom. “And if you want my personal opinion, you’d be far better off.”

Do you really have an option? “... O-Okay. I’ll stay in the castle.”

Her face brightens with that signature smile. “Ah, good girl!” She leans down and her hand reaches to pat your cheek. “We’ll find ways to take your blood that won’t leave scars, don’t you worry.”

Ring! Ring!

With a roll of her eyes, she straightens up. “As if there’s any more ways to take up my time...” She beckons you to follow as she returns to her vanity, and you awkwardly stand at her side as she sits back down, picking up the phone.

A moment passes, and she composes herself. “Mother Miranda, I regret to inform you that something unexpected has happened, and I’ll be a bit late for the meeting.” Glancing at you, she beckons you again, scrunching up her nose at your confusion. Lifting her free hand, she pats her lap twice, and beckons you again.

You blink. Does she want me to sit in her lap or something?

“Are you... asking me to sit?” You ask, and she nods. As you begin the motion she guides you the rest of the way with her hand around your arm, and you awkwardly shuffle so you’re comfortable.

Through her dress and your clothes, she’s cool to the touch, but not to imply she’s a walking corpse or something. Glancing at her reflection, she gives you an almost cheeky smirk as she adjusts her arm to keep you balanced.

“No, Mother Miranda.” Who is...? “Yes, of course, I understand the importance of this meeting. This will take me about fifteen minutes at most... Yes, Mother Miranda, I swear.” Then she nods, her hat gracing your forehead. “Very well.”

Then she hangs up the phone, letting out an exasperated huff. “So demanding.” And with no effort at all, she lifts you below your arms and stands, putting you on your feet like a toddler, patting your head. “You’ll have the pleasure of dining with us tonight. Since she seems to like you so much, Daniela will be responsible for ensuring you know where to go and what to do.”

Trying not to protest or show nervousness, you nod, to which she gives a satisfied upward nod.

“Now then, you’re grown enough to remember where your room is, yes? But feel free to explore the castle - but allow me to warn you, the cellar is off-limits. Do you understand?”

You nod. “I-I understand, Madam.”

“Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. When I return, I expect you’ll be well accustomed to the castle.” She flashes you a smile, her hip gracing your shoulder as she passes you. “And [Name]?”

You turn to face her, some sweat dripping down your neck. “Yes, Madam?”

Her eyes narrow, but her smile doesn’t drop; a look that says you’re in for something when she returns. “Enjoy your stay.”

Then she leaves, and the door shuts behind her, leaving you to listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away. Swallowing, you meander towards the door yourself, pushing it open.

And just as you do, the buzz of the insect swarms fill the air, and you clench your fists to stay calm even as the sisters materialize. With playful yet sinister smiles, they approach you, with Daniela going behind you to hug you just like before.

“Mother’s left for her meeting,” Cassandra points out.

A crazed look in her eye, Bela reaches and pokes your face. “I haven’t cut open a pretty girl in a while!”

“No, no~!” Daniela near-whines. “I’ve always liked the cute ones - I say we play with her a little.”

“And Mother made us promise not to leave scars.” Cassandra reaches out, cupping your chin, grinning at your face losing color from the dread twisting your stomach. “So don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.”

“We promise,” Daniela purrs.

#alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 #re8 dimitrescu #my writing #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x female reader

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dreamii-yume · 4 years

Note

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia vanrouge #Birthday Crumbs

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moonbeamwritings · 4 years

Text

street light serenade

Summary: Unable to sleep, you call up a certain mangaka for company, convincing him to drive around Morioh with you in the dead of night. What comes next exposes much more than what his most recent draft is focused on.

Author’s Note: Rohan simps come get y’all juice 🗣️🗣️ I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Sleep eluded you, as it often did when you were overwhelmed with university work, tossing and turning for hours on end as your mind swirled with all of the assignments you were too worn out to finish. It was nearing twelve o’clock and you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up a pencil or read any more academic journals.

Finally deciding to just get up and move around, you ventured down the hallway and out into the kitchen. A cup of tea could do some good, you thought.

With the tea kettle on the stove, you hopped up onto your counter, mind reeling with other ways you could get yourself to fall asleep. You could go for a walk, watch tv, or listen to music. Maybe going for a drive could help alleviate the stress crowding your brain.

As the kettle began to hiss, your mind was made up. A drive around Morioh sounded perfect, but one question remained. Should you go on your own?

Without a second thought, you pulled your phone from the wall, eagerly dialing the number of the only person you thought would be awake at this hour.

Rohan Kishibe.

It took a few moments for him to answer, casting doubt on the possibility of your plan coming to fruition.

“What do you want?” His voice was sharp and biting, clearly not thrilled about being pulled from whatever he was doing.

“Hello to you too, Rohan. Do you want to come for a drive with me? I can’t sleep.”

Rohan’s response was immediate, sparing you no kind words or easy let-downs, “No.”

“Come on, please. I’ll pick you up! You don’t even have to do anything!” You knew you were beginning to grovel, trying to sway him to indulge your midnight whims, but you didn’t care.

“I’m not getting caught dead in that tin can you call a car.”

“Some of us have student loans to pay off, you know. Plus, who would see you anyway?”

You could hear him scoff through the phone, a short judgmental sound followed by a few long moments of silence. As soon as you thought he had hung up on you, he spoke, “I’ll pick you up in five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m going home.”

A click sounded before you could get a word in. He was such a pain in the ass.

Rohan wasn’t easy to like, or easy to get along with, and he knew that, but you searched for his company often, asking him to coffee or lunch or stopping by to give him a new book he could use for research. At first, he would roll his eyes and scoff at your presence, annoyed at the prospect of someone so wholeheartedly thrusting themselves into his quiet little life. However, as time went on, he began to crave conversations with you, though he would never admit it.

So when you called, practically begging him to go for a drive, he couldn’t really say no, despite the apathetic lilt to his voice. Reluctantly, he pushed away from his desk, gathered his keys, and headed out. He would indulge you, if only just this once.

With your teacup long since forgotten, you raced around your home, throwing a comfy sweatshirt over your head and slipping into your shoes. Casting one final glance at yourself in the mirror, you lept out the front door, seconds after Rohan pulled up.

Plopping yourself into his passenger seat, you let out an excited greeting.

“You’re far too energetic for this time of night.” He replied, hand reaching across the gap to land on the back of your chair as he backed out of your driveway.

“What?” You whined, pouting at his tone. “Car rides are fun!”

“You sound like a dog.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

The car fell silent as he began to drive, taking random turns and heading in whatever direction he pleased.

You brought a hand up to the radio, fiddling with the dials and buttons until you landed on your favorite station. You lowered the volume, sending the music into the background, rather than allowing it to ruin the calm energy in the car.

Rohan glanced over at you every so often, admiring the ways that the street lights mixed as they sped by, molding together to cast interesting shadows along your face.

The whole experience felt almost surreal in a sense, traveling through liminal spaces as some silly pop song played softly through the speakers. Just the two of you, the street lights, and the rumble of the car.

After another turn, you began to ask Rohan more about his life. What motivated him, what he was currently working on, when he was traveling again. Every question on your mind seemed to pass your lips, eager to become closer to the man that tried so hard to keep you at arm’s length.

He humored you, of course, but not without little complaints and jests, “You working for a gossip magazine or something?”

“No, I just want to get to know you. That’s all.”

Your response made something tighten in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown genuine, unmotivated interests in his thoughts and feelings. He was so used to the same questions, people entertaining his presence in order to weasel their way in, hoping to get some money or fame through his friendship.

You were different, a welcomed change.

When you exhausted your questions, he picked his own. How were your studies going, did you have anything lined up for once you graduated, what had you so worked up you couldn’t sleep. If you were going to know more about him, then he would like to return the favor.

Growing tired of taking the same turns, Rohan directed your little mission to a scenic overlook, angling the car so you could both stare out at the ocean.

It was peaceful, sitting under the light of the moon with you, watching as it bounced off the waves below, creating swirling patterns of dark sea and pale moonlight.

The orange glow of the streetlight on his side of the car casted a shadow along the side of his face, illuminating his high cheekbones and green eyes. Your eyes traveled down his neck, absorbing the way that same shadow warped against his neck and collar bones. In your eyes, he was rendered ethereal in this light, an untouchable being with an indescribable beauty.

“I didn’t know you had a staring problem.”

He could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head and it was starting to bother him. You can’t just stare at people, refusing to utter even a word. It was annoying.

Still so hypnotized by the light playing against his face, you responded without a second thought, “Rohan, you’re beautiful.”

Your words left you both speechless, rendered even more silent following your confession. You were embarrassed beyond words and Rohan was in absolute disbelief.

“What?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Just the,” you floundered, hands rising in falling in a desperate attempt to collect your thoughts, to form some sort of explanation, “the light.”

You cleared your throat, “The light behind you… it’s casting a pretty shadow. That’s all.”

Through your pathetic attempt at deflecting his question, he examined you, turning in his seat to really take you in. The same light casting shadows on him created a perfect beam on your own face, your soft skin and kind eyes on full display. He laughed, the whole situation both ridiculous and welcome at the same time. A mix of literal and subjective interpretations of the phrase “seeing someone in a new light.”

He scoffed, a smirk lighting his face as he pulled you closer, closing the distance created by the center console, “You talk too much.”

With that, he planted his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Your hands came up to trace along his cheekbones while his hand remained on the back of your head.

Rohan wasn’t one to wax poetic about just anyone, that much you knew. So as he pulled away, still holding your head as he began to describe how you looked under the light streaming in from outside, you felt your face warm. The slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks, the delicate dip of your cupid’s bow, all made beautiful under Rohan’s diligent stare.

When he was finished, he readjusted his position to sit facing forward again with his hands resting on the steering wheel, “You’re alright, I guess.”

That’s the Rohan you knew and loved.

The two of you remained at the overlook for another hour, chatting and listening to music, but as he watched your blinking begin to slow, your eyes begin to grow heavy, Rohan elected to take you home.

As he drove along side streets, passing neighborhoods and businesses, he stretched a hand over to land against your thigh, gently squeezing it every so often.

Maybe he could afford to put this side of himself on display more often, if only for you.

#rohan kishibe x reader #rohan kishibe imagine #rohan x reader #rohan imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine

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cdroloisms · 3 years

Note

Do you think c! Quackity are skilled on the mastering of "necessary convincing" on a person? And man the stream yesterday was so intense dark theme.

hello !

this is testament of how behind i am in asks, haha, considering this was sent basically at the beginning of q’s visits and it’s been ,, uh ,, several months since then ASJKFLJAS - but im going to try to answer it now while pretending that we dont have months proving that c!quackity is very willing to do whatever the hell it takes to get the revive book from someone.

i think that the ,, technicalities? of the torture were never an issue - everyone in the dream smp universe has to know how to use a weapon in its most basic form, after all, just to defend themselves from mobs and stuff, tho some people are clearly more adept at using them than others. torture is ultimately just hurting someone until they do what you want them to do (way oversimplified, but this definition works here) - physically, if you’re able to kill a zombie, there’s functionally little different with inflicting harm on a defenseless unarmed human with no means of defending themselves.

the real challenge, as with most things in the minecraft roleplay, comes from the mental side - how far is c!quackity really willing to go? obviously he *can* hurt someone, but doing so also tends to go against a lot of our most basic instincts as humans. defying that becomes the real question to consider - and c!quackity, in his increased willingness to hurt not only c!dream, but everyone as he’s manipulated people more and used people more for his own gain in the last few months, seems to providing as much of an answer as we’re going to get.

this obviously isnt to say that he isn’t conflicted, or that he’s pure evil !! but c!quackity, by his own admission, seems to hold little trust for other people and ideals anymore. his main goal is Las Nevadas and whatever he needs to make it great - anything and everything else is either a means to his end or an obstacle in his way. i dont doubt that there are chinks to this mindset to exploit, things that he cares about enough to take his single-minded focus off of Las Nevadas. as of now, though, i don’t think that torturing c!dream and the violence it’ll require of him will be that breaking point.

anyway, have a really dark snippet exploring c!quackity some more !! he’s really fun to write, though i don’t think i’ve really mastered his voice yet - practice makes perfect, i guess. heed the warnings and hope you enjoy!

tw: torture, abuse, blood, injuries, branding, violence, death mention, abuse apologism, mental deterioration, dark content, dark imagery, very dark portrayal of c!quackity, pandora’s vault/prison arc

There’s a certain learning curve that comes with torturing someone.

It sounds obvious, thinking back, as much as it sounds morbid as all hell, but it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. Quackity swipes another stack of iron from a chest, momentarily grumbling about the cost, before melting down three ingots for the blade of his next axe. He could just do it in a crafting table, but there’s a degree of calm in the monotony of doing it all by hand, slowly watching as the iron begins to glow red hot in the heat of the furnace and then hammering it into shape on his anvil. He hadn’t been good at it before, had let Sapnap do the majority of the smithing for the three of them in the past, but. Well.

When you’re eating through several sets of iron tools a week, either from bending them out of shape against unforgiving obsidian or melting the blades past saving in lava or burning them all entirely, when he’s too tired to be bothered cleaning off the blood and simply chucks the used tools after a session into the molten rock outside the cell, you kind of have to figure out how to make your own shit so others don’t get suspicious.

He beats the metal into a block, humming softly over the clangs of his hammer. There’s definitely a learning curve to crafting weapons, too - he’s pretty proud of the ones that he can make, now, even though he’s still no good at any of the fancier furnishings and finishes (nor does he particularly care about them). Figuring out how to torture someone effectively was a similarly slow process - finding their limits and how far to push before something, inevitably, gives. He hadn’t exactly handled it the best in the first few visits, usually retching into the nearest wastebasket at the smell, at the feeling of blood coating his fingertips, at the screams ringing incessantly in his head. It wasn’t all that long before he forwent sleep altogether, devoting all of his time on paperwork and calls and anything that would deafen the cries that would’ve haunted him otherwise. He was no good with his tools, either - more than a few times, in those early visits, did he end up slicing too deep or going too far and needing to cut the session short for Sam to come in and administer health pots before Dream died and rendered all of their efforts useless.

(Sapnap had been the one to first teach him how to wield an axe, correcting his stance and his grip with gentle, calloused hands. He remembers them training on the newly laid dirt surface of Mexican L’manburg, sweat dripping down his neck from the sun beating against their heavy armor, Sap laughing at his unbalanced, heavy-armed swings and demonstrating with his own weapon, movements fluid and graceful as if it was an extension of his own arm. In the cell, he thinks of Sapnap’s voice, firm in his focus - feet at least shoulder width apart, hands braced on the axe handle, left sitting just above the end and the right just a few inches below the head - and swings.)

It had been...a process. A bloody, often painful process - his hands are calloused, now, in ways they never were before, from the constant handling of his many tools. His back aches constantly from bending over, and his shirt - more often splattered with blood than not - now bears some permanent pink stains that he can’t get out no matter how hard he tries. (The laundry, he thinks wryly, had been a hell of a learning process as well.) He picks up the metal with a pair of tongs, easing it back under the fire’s heat until it glows a soft pink, and then places it back onto the anvil to work - slowly beating the metal into shape.

He’s had to learn a lot. The lessons are fascinating, in a gruesome, morbid sort of way. He’d brought a brand the other day, painstakingly carved into a fancy, curlicued Q all on his own, used in his work at Las Nevadas originally to finish furnishing a few pieces of leather furniture he had scattered around the city. As Dream struggled under him, skin blackening under the white-hot metal, he’d immersed himself in the sight, far more similar to his past leatherwork than he might’ve originally expected. He almost wanted to do it again, just to compare, but the stress of it all had been enough to knock the prisoner into shock, which had put a significant damper on the rest of his visit. He watches the iron glow contemplatively from his anvil, not nearly as hot as he works at it.

Another dip in the furnace later, it’s heated just enough to work out the finishings, and he carefully knocks the ends into a blade. Picking it up with a pair of tongs, he holds it up to a nearby piece of glowstone, grinning at the finished axe head. There’s still quite a bit to do, technically - he still needs to sharpen it along with the other ones he’s finished, as well as fasten them to their handles, but even so - it looks good. He examines it, back and front, against the light. It’s probably his best one yet.

Quackity smiles to himself as he puts it down with the rest, pulling out his calendar from behind him and carefully marking another red X over the date. Learning to torture someone takes a hell of a lot of time, but. Well.

He has all the time in the world.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw blood #tw death #tw injury #tw violence #tw branding #tw abuse apologism #tw mental deterioration #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #c!quackity critical #not really but i digress #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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streetlight11 · 3 years

Text

Try Not To Fall In Love

Summary: Being forced into marriage is never an exciting idea simply because you are getting married to someone not out of pure love. So when he was forced to marry a girl he doesn't know, he desperately gets help from his friend, hoping his friend could save him from the arranged marriage.

Theme: fake dating au, strangers to lovers

Genre: fluff, tinge of angst

Warnings: none

WC: 6.6k

Pairing: Bestfriend's Friend!Hoseok x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I got this idea the other day while I was listening to a song by Keshi called Summer, where there was a line in the song which goes, "3 months is all we got, try not to fall in love" so I wrote this before I lost the feel of it ✌

“Shoot, what am I gonna do? My parents are setting me up for marriage with this… I don’t know, this spoiled brat whose parents apparently owns the famous clothing brand in Korea. Ugh, I hate her! I don’t wanna be married to some spoiled girl who only thinks about herself.” Hoseok groans in frustration as he paces around Namjoon’s living room.

Hoseok’s parents were power and money hungry. They thrive to be rich but forgets that the safer alternative was to work hard for it instead of taking a short way out. Since Hoseok was an only son, they used him as a pawn by planning to marry him off to the daughter of the most wealthiest family in the country.

He despised this whole plan.

Namjoon could only frown as he didn’t know what to do for his friend.

“Can’t you like maybe, I don’t know? Tell your parents you’re not interested in her or something?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, unless you want me to waste my breath then yeah sure I’ll make that excuse to them. They’re going to make me marry her no matter what I say! Shit! I hate this!” Hoseok growled as he plopped on the couch and threw a pillow across the room, making Namjoon scold him for throwing a tantrum.

Hoseok mumbled an apology as the room fell quiet. Just then, it was as though something clicked in the back of Namjoon’s mind. He snapped his fingers and shot up from the couch instantly, shocking the poor boy.

“I know! How about you get a fake girlfriend? That way your parent’s can’t say anything right?” Namjoon exclaimed as if it was the most brilliant plan ever.

“What do you want me to do if they ask me to break up with this fake girlfriend? Joon, I’m telling you. My parents can be hella desperate, they'd do literally anything to make their plan work.” Hoseok sighed again.

“Look, if you get a fake girlfriend, treat her like a real girlfriend. That way, when they see how much you care and love each other, your parents won’t bother you with arranging a marriage for you ever again. There! Problem solved.” Namjoon shrugged, only for Hoseok to roll his eyes.

“Okay fine, sure. But the problem is, who am I gonna ask to help me with the plan? You know I don’t have any close female friends…” Hoseok frowned worriedly at his older friend before the male smirked.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.” Namjoon said with a satisfied smirk on his face.

You were just typing away your codings for your assignment when a familiar figure stood in front of you on the other side of that wooden table. You glanced up and were immediately greeted by your best friend, Namjoon.

“What is it now, Namjoon? I already told you the group project is not discussable with members outside your group.” You sighed, earning a blabber from him.

“Yeah yeah whatever. Listen. I need you to do me a favour.” Namjoon began, rendering you curious.

“With what?” You asked.

“I need you to be a fake girlfriend for a few weeks.”

“What? Why do you need a fake girlfriend? Having girl trouble again?” You chuckled at your successful mock directed to him.

“Shut up. Anyways, not me. It’s for my friend.”

Your eyebrow was raised in confusion, staring at him with so much doubt.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You said but he was quick to stop you.

“What? Why?”

“Namjoon, for one, I don’t know who your friend is. And two, this might be a little risky…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Most of the time when two people get into these fake relationships, they often end up being awkward and are close to opposite from what they hoped to turn out.”

“Y/N come on! Please! He’s really in need of help, his parents are forcing him to marry a girl he doesn’t even know and love. Just help him this once, will you? After all of this ends, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Namjoon begged as you stared at him with worry in your eyes and he could clearly see it.

After much thought, you decided to help out simply because if you were in this person’s shoes, you would also dread the idea of being forced into marriage.

You just hope this plan turns out successful.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Namjoon had texted you earlier saying to meet his friend for lunch to discuss how you want the plan to go. Namjoon gave you the address of the cafe and told you to find a guy with dirt blonde hair and black long sleeved shirt. You didn’t want to have a bad first impression for yourself so you opted to dress slightly nicer instead of your usual sweatpants and oversized sweater.

You chose a simple denim skinny jeans, fitted cropped top with a cardigan to go over. Once you made it to the cafe, your eyes skimmed over the entire interior of the cafe.

You noticed that the cafe was filled with people but out of pure luck, there was only one guy seated near the windows alone and was exactly as Namjoon described him to be. With that, you made your way to him, noticing the two cups on the table. You assumed he bought a drink for you to not get kicked out of the cafe.

He was handsome. You definitely never met him before. Which makes things slightly harder considering this means you would have a lot to learn about this guy if you had to pretend to be his girlfriend for the next few weeks.

Right when you were a foot away from the table, his eyes glanced up from his phone only to lock eyes with yours. For a moment, you saw the way his cute brown eyes sparkled.

“Hi, are you Hoseok?” You asked as he nodded.

“I assume you are Y/N?”

“In the flesh.” You joked, only for him to crack into a smile that seemed too adorable. You took a seat after he gestured for you to sit down. Both of you went silent for a split second before you spoke up.

“How long have you waited?”

“Not too long, I think close to about 10 minutes?”

“Oh, sorry. I got stuck in traffic for a bit.” You apologized knowing you were in fact late.

“No, it’s fine…” Hoseok smiled as his eyes glanced around your face for a second while you looked down at the cup to see that it was a Hazelnut Latte, your favourite.

“I bought Hazelnut Latte with almond milk for you. Not gonna lie, I had to get help from Namjoon on what you usually drink. Didn’t want to buy the wrong one on a first meet.” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You giggled at his confession, finding it extremely endearing how he asked Namjoon what your favourite drink was.

“Anything is fine honestly, I’m not picky but I guess I can say this is the perfect pick.” You smiled when you saw the corner of his lips curled up sharply.

The two of you began chatting more comfortably with each other, getting to know the other in slight depth so that you would know what to say if someone questions you about the other. You later found out he was your age and that he owns a puppy named Mickey. He was a dancer and he likes to rap when he’s bored.

You also found out that he and Namjoon have been friends since high school. Which means he’s known Namjoon longer than you have.

A few minutes later, you both decided to lay out the plan for his fake girlfriend project. You went through the basic stuff, saying what you can or can’t do in public, all that kind of stuff.

After brainstorming and exchanging ideas or thoughts on the plan, you smiled before saying the one thing that both of you had to try to be mutual about.

“Whatever we do, let’s try not to fall in love with each other.”

Your first few weeks of fake dating went well. Hoseok and you managed to act like a legit couple in public. He would drive you to campus every morning, hold hands as you walked around the campus grounds, sit with you during his free period, have lunch with you and Namjoon on days where your lunch schedules are in sync, walk you to your classes with his arm on your waist, basically everything a couple would do.

Of course, not to forget the little kisses he gives you after every walk, before every separation, in between chats, but those kisses were anywhere but your lips for you both agreed to avoid lip kisses.

Everything was going well so far and despite the little butterflies you sometimes get whenever he holds you or kisses you a certain way, you tried your best to remind yourself this was all temporary.

Besides, you were only doing this to practice so that when you do in fact go over to meet his parents, they would believe that you are dating their son.

Nobody would believe someone is dating if they saw an awkward couple who doesn’t know what to do around the other.

Right?

It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were having lunch with Namjoon and Hoseok when the latter sighed deeply the minute he sat down beside you with his own tray of food.

“Hoseok? What’s wrong?” You asked as Namjoon eyed his friend worriedly.

“My mum’s inviting that girl’s family over this weekend to our family dinner. All my relatives are gonna be there…” He said hesitantly as he avoided your eyes. Hoseok was currently picking his food, not actually eating it.

So you gently placed your hand on top of his that was on the table, successfully gaining his attention when he turned to look at you.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. Don’t worry too much, okay?” You tried reassuring him but it looks like he was too stressed out about it.

“I know… It’s just… The last thing I wanna do is to humiliate myself in front of everyone, or even worse, humiliate you. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess in the first place.” Hoseok said as he began to have second thoughts.

Before you could respond, he got up abruptly while slinging his bag strap over his shoulder.

“Sorry, I have to go.” He apologized as he began to walk away. You turned to Namjoon who looked just as confused as you were. Namjoon told you to go after him and that was exactly what you did.

Hoseok had just left the cafeteria hall and was making his way towards the Dance Studio building when you ran after him.

You grabbed his hand to stop him and once you were standing in front of him, you took in a breath to speak.

“Hoseok, listen to me. Everything’s gonna be fine. No one’s gonna humiliate anyone. Don’t stress out too much okay? It’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him but it looks like he was still having doubts about it.

“Y/N, the plan was to bring you home with just my parents and that girl around, not my entire family. I don’t want you to get hurt if they say anything bad about you, about us… We really shouldn’t have done this, I’m sorry for bringing you into this.” Hoseok apologized again but you weren’t having any of it.

With that being said, you cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, not caring about the looks you got from the students that were currently passing by your two figures in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s not gonna happen… Okay? We’re going through this together. No matter what. We have to finish what we started. Besides, if there’s anyone during that gathering who I trust would keep me safe, it’s you.”

Your words hit him deeply and he couldn’t agree more. It has been 3 weeks since you started this whole fake dating thing. And if he were to be completely honest, the very last agreement you made right before all this started in which you said ‘try not to fall in love with each other’, this statement has been washed down the drain since the first week of your fake dating.

After the third day of practicing your fake relationship, he realized that you were an amazing person. You were so humble, kind, selfless, down-to-earth, basically everything a guy dreams of. Seeing how sweet you were with such a genuine heart, makes him go all fuzzy and warm for you.

It was only after the first week of that fake relationship that Hoseok realized, maybe he really was falling in love with you.

With that being said, Hoseok leaned into your hands as you watched his frown get replaced by a smile and soon, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist gently to say, “Okay… Let’s show them how love should really be.”

Weekend finally rolled around and you were currently getting ready for Hoseok’s family dinner. You opted to wear a beautiful lavender laced sleeveless dress with a pretty round neck, where the hem of the dress stops just past your knees. You were going to pair it with your nude heels. You style your hair to a pretty low bun with your bangs framing your face in a middle parting.

You kept your makeup at a bare minimum since that was just your personal preference. You were just packing your important belongings into your purse when you heard the doorbell ring.

You abandoned your purse for a second as you jogged to your front door. Once you opened it, you nearly got your breath stolen by how handsome he looked.

He was wearing a white button down formal shirt, the first few buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, pairing that with a tie loosely hanging around his neck. He wore black jeans with the shirt tucked in, along with a pair of black loafers.

Not to mention his hair being styled in a way that his forehead is shown but at the same time, his fringe flops down with a slight volume so that it’s not too flat.

He looks really good.

“Hey gorgeous.” He smirked upon seeing your outfit.

You couldn’t stop the blush forming on your cheeks but you were quick to respond to him to avoid getting teased by him.

“Hey handsome. Give me a second to get my purse!” You said as you jogged back into your apartment, hearing his soft chuckle behind you. After you grabbed your purse, phone and house keys, you strapped your heels on and soon left the apartment. You made sure to lock your door before walking down the hall with him.

Both of you were talking about random topics when you felt him slide an arm around your waist. For some reason, this made you jump while your breath hitched in your throat a little too loud.

Hoseok chuckled at your reaction, clearly not expecting you to react that way especially since you were always relaxed when he does that out of the blue on campus.

“You okay? You seem jumpy…” Hoseok asked worriedly before his eyes searched for yours desperately.

“Uh, y-yeah… I’m just nervous I guess.” You laughed, earning a soft squeeze to your side before he kissed your temple gently like he always does.

“Don’t be. I promise nobody’s gonna hurt you… I won’t let that happen.” Hoseok’s voice gradually got lower until he whispered those last words to you. It made your heart flip and your stomach swirl from both anxiety and adrenaline.

The drive to his family home was about 40 minutes but you enjoyed the entire ride there. Hoseok made you laugh quite a few times, both of you singing along to the songs on his playlist, you played around with his things in his car, him glancing over at you every now and then only to smile every time he catches you doing something silly or was just laughing at something he said.

Gosh he was sickly in love with you.

He finally managed to park in his parent’s driveway along with a few other cars that probably belonged to the other guests. You got out of his car, suddenly feeling nervous all over again. Hoseok noticed the way you were stuck in place beside his passenger car door, making him walk over to you.

“Hey, relax. We’re gonna be fine. You said that yourself didn’t you?” Hoseok smiles as he cups your face softly while he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.

You slowly nodded up at him, watching as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead.

Of course this was all for the fake relationship at the end of the day, but was all of this gestures really fake though?

Both of you walked towards the front door with your left hand in his, fingers intertwined while your right hand wrapped itself around his left forearm to hold him close to you. Hoseok stopped in front of the door before turning to you and whispered, “Are you ready?”

“Ready if you are.” You gave him a weak smile and soon, he pushed the door open.

You made it inside without anyone greeting you at the door since it was in fact his house anyway. However, the minute you entered the living room, you instantly squeezed Hoseok’s hand lightly. Clearly overwhelmed by the number of people who were gathered there.

“Oh! Hoseok dear! You’re here!” One of the middle aged ladies said with a smile.

“Yes Aunt Ju, I’m here and I brought my girlfriend with me if you all don’t mind. I figured it’s a perfect time to introduce her to all my family.” Hoseok said proudly, making you feel slightly safe in his arms.

Just then, a voice sounded from behind you and it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“How dare you bring an outsider to our family dinner! She’s not invited! And who said you’re dating this low life girl? You’re getting married to Lena!” Who you could only assume to be Hoseok’s mother, said in full disgust as she glares and looks at you from head to toe.

Hoseok’s body shook with rage as he frowned at his mother, ready to shoot her down with his words if he had to.

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with, mom. Why should I marry someone who doesn’t mean a single thing to me when I can live happily with the girl of my dreams?”

“Nonsense! I am your mother so you have to listen to my decisions!” You were afraid of what might happen next so you tugged Hoseok’s hand a little to gain his attention. Luckily, he felt it so he glanced down at you for a second and the moment he locked eyes with you, he immediately softened.

He took a deep breath before turning back to his mother and smiled, “Yes, you are my mother. But I get to decide who I want to marry for it is my life and not yours.”

His mother’s face distorts into an offended scowl. She watched as her son brought you over to the rest of his family in the living room.

Upon sitting down, one of Hoseok’s cousin’s greeted you with a hug as she began talking to you.

“Hi dear! What’s your name?” She asked.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, you?”

“I’m Seori. It’s nice to meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” For the first time that night, you smiled genuinely as Seori warmed up to you pretty quick. Though from the corner of your eye, you could see a girl who hadn’t kept her gaze off you from the minute you entered the room.

For this reason alone, you could only guess that she was Lena, the girl who Hoseok was supposed to marry.

You were just chatting with Seori about Hoseok’s old habits when she suddenly leaned in to whisper something surprising to you.

“Honestly, I’m rooting for you instead of that rich girl. She’s such a brat. Hoseok is definitely too good for her.” Seori smiled, making you chuckle. You couldn’t believe Hoseok’s cousin was actually agreeing with you being her cousin’s partner even though she only just met you.

“Oh… Thanks… I guess?” You said awkwardly, earning a laugh from her.

“No really! She’s such a spoiled brat. I don’t understand why my aunt is dying for Hoseok to marry her. Blegh…” Seori faked a gag at the end.

Just then, your eyes travelled over to the other side of the room, only to find Lena shooting daggers into your skull. You got uncomfortable under her intense gaze which caused you to fidget in your seat. Unfortunately, Hoseok noticed this so he turned to you and whispered carefully.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“H-Huh? Oh, n-nothing. I’m fine.” You smiled at him as he frowned knowing you were lying but he decided to just trust you so he snuck a quick kiss to your cheek before smiling at you.

Why is your heart racing?

An hour went by, Hoseok kept you close to him at all times, making sure Lena or his mother never got too close to you.

You were just talking to Seori and Wooyoung, another one of Hoseok’s cousins when you excused yourself to go to the washroom. You made it down the hall and was about to enter the bathroom when you heard bickerings from one of the rooms.

As bad as you know it would be to eavesdrop, you got even curious when you recognized one of the voices to be Hoseok’s.

The closer you got, the clearer those voices were. However, your heart wasn’t ready for what you were about to hear.

“I want you to break up with that stupid girl and marry Lena!”

“No mom! What the hell? You can’t do this to me!”

“I’m your mother! And I demand you to leave that lowlife brat or else, I won’t take you as my son anymore! You choose. Outsider or Family.” His mom threatened him as she began to walk towards the door.

For some reason, you couldn’t seem to move. Your feet were glued to the ground as your eyes pooled with tears at the brim.

The moment his mother pulled the door open harshly, you flinched.

The tears on your eyes were now falling freely down your cheeks. You locked eyes with Hoseok for a brief moment before you looked back at his mother who had a satisfied wicked smile on her face.

“So, you heard right? Break up with my son if you love him and care about him still being a part of this family.”

Hoseok was frozen behind her as he watched you carefully for your next words. You two were supposed to be strong for each other. You were supposed to come out of this family dinner hand in hand with a proud smile on your face. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the outcome tonight.

So with one shaky breath, you locked eyes with his mother while your tears streamed down your face, giving her exactly what she wanted.

“Okay. I promise I’ll leave your son alone from now on. This will be the last time you see me in his life, if that’s what you want Ma’am.”

“Good. Now leave. You don’t belong here.”

With that, you gave her a weak smile before you turned in your heels and ran. Hoseok was going to run after you but his mother stopped him.

Your running figure caught everyone’s attention as Seori and Wooyoung called out to you desperately but all you did was run to the front door and left. A few seconds later, Hoseok was seen running down the hall and was about to go to the front door when Hoseok’s mother yelled his name.

He stopped in his tracks, only for her to threaten him again.

“Jung Hoseok! Don’t you dare go after that girl!”

“Why?! Why not mom?! Why can’t I go after the one girl that I love?! Tell me mom! Tell me!”

“You don’t love her…” She scoffed, trying to convince herself that her son isn’t capable of finding love on his own.

“What do you know about love mom? You call marrying someone I don’t know, someone I’ve never talked to, someone I’ve never met before, love? If that’s what you call love, then I don’t want to be a part of it. In all my life, I’ve never known what is the true meaning of love besides a family’s love. And now I know…” He paused to take a deep breath before he continued.

“Call me insane, but I am in love with her. I am madly in love with the girl who you just blatantly threatened to break up with me. It’s such a low move of you to threaten an innocent girl when all she did was love me.” Hoseok said as he turned and was about to leave when his mother threatened him again.

“If you step out of this house right now just to go after that brat, you are never to step foot in this house ever again.”

With that being said, Hoseok turned around and gave her a sad smile. He knew the decision he was going to make. He knew it would probably change his life forever. And yet, not a single ounce of regret was lingering in him when he said the next few words.

“And let the girl I truly love slip out of my hands for good? I’m sorry mom, but I don’t think so.” Hoseok said and with that, he left.

Hoseok’s father had to hold his wife back from slaughtering her son as Seori and Wooyoung cheered for their cousin while Lena was just fuming in her seat.

Hoseok arrived at your apartment building, running up to your unit level only to pound his fist against your door. He waited a few seconds but all he got was silence. He tried a few more times and still no response. He panicked as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of where else you could go.

Just then, it was as though something clicked in his brain that made him rush back to his car and soon drove off to the one possible place you could have gone to.

After a few more minutes on the road, Hoseok practically leaped out of his car and soon sprinted up the apartment steps not bothering to wait for the lift.

Once he was on level 4 where Namjoon’s apartment unit was, he gave it a few knocks.

It was currently 10:40pm so he knew damn well that Namjoon was still awake. Hoseok’s mind was currently running amuck as he tapped his foot impatiently against the ground.

Just then, the door opened to reveal Namjoon who looked worried for something, or perhaps someone.

“Joon ah! Please tell me she’s here…” Hoseok whispered desperately as his eyes pleaded for Namjoon to give him the answer he really wanted. Of course, Namjoon could never lie to his friend. Which is why Namjoon lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at the latter.

“She’s in my room.”

With that being said, Hoseok quickly kicked his shoes off only to walk towards Namjoon’s room carefully so as to not scare you.

Once he was standing in front of the door, he skipped the knocking and went straight ahead to open it.

The moment he did, his heart shattered upon seeing you sit on Namjoon’s bed with your knees up to your chest while you hugged them. You had your face buried in your arms as your soft cries echoed around the room.

Hoseok softly entered the room, closing the door behind him as he carefully made his way to you.

“Joonie… Why am I feeling this way? Why am I so sad? This is fake, isn’t it? All this is fake… So why does my heart hurt so bad?” You whispered in between sobs but still not looking up. You felt the mattress dip beside you which means someone had just climbed into bed with you.

Except, you just assumed it was Namjoon. Little did you know, you were wrong.

“Maybe because our feelings weren’t fake.”

His familiar gentle voice caught you off guard as you slowly brought your head up only to gasp when you locked eyes with Hoseok’s soft ones. He was smiling down at you, and yet, you could see how broken he was.

“H-Hoseok… W-Wha… What are you doing here?” Your voice was weak as you stuttered over your words.

“I left… I couldn’t let you leave.”

“N-No…” You croaked out. “N-No… No… What about your family? Hoseok, did you not hear what your mom said?”

With that being said, Hoseok gently cups your face with both hands as he shushes you to calm you down.

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay. I know what she said. But it doesn’t matter because what’s important is that we’re together.” He smiled as he kissed the tip of your nose, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hoseok…” Your voice was barely a whisper, earning a soft ‘shh’ from him yet again.

“I don’t care what she said. I don’t care what any of my family says. It's my life so I make my decisions. And right now, I’m so glad I left. That way I can show you just how much I truly care for you…” Hoseok paused as he slowly leaned closer to you until his lips were just an inch apart from yours, foreheads touching gently before he took one shaky breath and finally expressed his feelings for you wholeheartedly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart was pounding against your chest as you closed your eyes, afraid to look him in the eye. Finally, with one small breath, you whispered your reply for his little confession.

“I love you too, Hoseok.”

And just like that, Hoseok smiled as he caressed your cheeks before he kissed you on the lips.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest as you slide your hands around his waist. He kissed you so sweetly, you nearly allowed yourself to fall on him. Hoseok pulls away with a soft sound, keeping one hand on your cheek while the other rests on your neck.

He kept his forehead gently against yours as his lips purposely brushed over your lips. You could hear his nervous breaths, only for him to whisper against your lips.

“Let me love you properly this time. You’re all that I want.”

With that, you couldn’t help but giggle feeling your heart full again. You loved him. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. Nevertheless, you promised to love him back equally.

7 months had passed without any of you realizing. Hoseok has been staying with Namjoon ever since that unfortunate incident with his parents, more specifically his mother. Hoseok hasn’t talked to his parents ever since, simply fulfilling her request if he decided to leave the house that night.

You were in a stable relationship with Hoseok in which he has shown you more love than what he was capable of giving you previously when you were fake dating.

He showered you with so much love, it makes your heart melt every single time.

It was a gloomy Saturday afternoon. You went over to Namjoon’s place to hangout with him and your boyfriend. Upon your arrival, Hoseok seemed too excited as he quickly tackled you down onto the sofa whilst he tickled the life out of you.

You had to beg him to stop as you ended up panting for air. You were just cuddling with Hoseok on the couch while Namjoon sat on the huge bean bag chair at the corner while you all watched the movie.

You were just drawing random patterns onto Hoseok’s clothed chest, earning soft kisses at the top of your head when you heard the doorbell ring.

All of you glanced around at each other, only for Hoseok to ask his roommate if he ordered anything.

Upon Namjoon saying no, the male stood up and made his way to the door. You and Hoseok continued watching the show while Namjoon went to answer the door. A few seconds later, you heard Namjoon’s voice calling to Hoseok from the end of the hallway but for some reason, his voice sounded a little suspicious.

You definitely didn’t expect this.

“Uh, Seok ah, you might wanna pause the movie.” Namjoon warned as you both turned around. The minute you locked eyes with Hoseok’s parents, you immediately tensed up whilst he sat up straighter in an alert stance.

“Mom. Dad.” Hoseok whispered under his breath as the two of them smiled at their son.

You could feel the tension rising as Hoseok’s body became stiff. To avoid making things worse, you carefully got up and excused yourself.

Before you could leave, Hoseok grabbed your wrist as his eyes were begging for you to stay.

“You should talk to them.” You whispered as you looked at his parents and soon gave them a small nod before you and Namjoon left them to head to Namjoon’s bedroom.

You closed the door behind you and the minute you were inside, you couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh. Pressing your back against the door, you slid down to the ground until you were seated on the floor. Namjoon frowned as he went over to you, pulling you into a warm hug as he caressed the back of your head comfortingly.

Meanwhile, Hoseok's parents took a seat on the same couch he was in except there was a huge gap between Hoseok and his mom.

“My dear son, how are you sweetheart?” His mom smiled sadly, knowing Hoseok probably still held a grudge on her.

“I’m fine…” Hoseok said coldly, unsure of how to react.

“How’s school? Everything okay?” His dad asked.

“Yeah. I’m coping okay. Nothing out of the ordinary for me as usual.” Hoseok shrugged as he looked everywhere but his parents. Just then, his mother was the first to apologize.

“I’m really sorry for the way I acted that night… I… I wasn’t thinking.”

Hoseok finally looked at his mom with a deep frown on his face.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I shouldn’t have treated Y/N that way and that I shouldn’t have made those threats to you and her when I should be happy that you found love and that you were genuinely happy to be with her… I’m so sorry, dear.” His mother started to tear up as Hoseok’s heart immediately softened for her.

Of course he couldn’t hate her.

He could never hate his mother.

So when she began to cry, Hoseok scooted closer to hug her, rubbing her back soothingly to calm her down. His father simply smiled as he patted Hoseok’s back a few times for he wasn’t a man of affection. No doubt, he still loves his family dearly.

A few minutes later, Hoseok pulled away from his mother, only for the lady to sniffle and ask, “Can I see her? I want to see the girl who’s been making my son so happy.” She smiled as Hoseok nodded.

He soon got up, making his way to Namjoon’s bedroom. He gave it a few knocks before opening it, only to find Namjoon and you seated on his bed facing each other, placing a game of rock paper scissors. You were just laughing at Namjoon’s mistake when you heard the door creak open and soon, you met Hoseok’s soft eyes.

“Hey…” Hoseok said as he stepped inside briefly to walk to you and Namjoon.

“How’s everything?” Namjoon asked with a weak smile, only for Hoseok to speak up.

“We made up…”

“Oh? That’s amazing.” Namjoon sighed in relief but then Hoseok looked at you and placed a soft hand on your thigh.

“But now my mom wants to see you.” Immediately, your breath hitched in your throat.

What if she still hates you?

Hoseok could sense your worries so he squeezed your thigh softly and soon reassured you that if anything goes wrong, he’ll be there to protect you. With his words of affirmation, you both finally left the room with Namjoon flopping onto his bed.

You walked behind Hoseok while he laced his fingers with yours. The minute you came into the living room, you locked eyes with his mother and for some reason, her words from that night came haunting you back.

You unconsciously hid behind Hoseok and his mother saw this.

However, the frown on her face couldn’t easily be mistaken for anything else. She knew she would leave this effect on you, but maybe not to this extent. And for that, she feels bad.

Seeing how you wouldn’t budge from behind him, Hoseok gently tugs you forward while he whispers to you, “It’s okay… I’m here…”

This was enough to give you some moral support as you carefully sat down on the couch beside his mother.

“Hi dear, how are you?” She asked as you saw a brand new tear threatening to roll down her cheeks.

“I-I’m good, Ma’am.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not here to yell at you… I’m here to say sorry. I know what I said to you that night wasn’t right. And I know that I can’t take back whatever I said. And I totally understand if you don’t forgive me. All I wanna say is thank you for making my son happy. I can see that he truly loves you. I’m sorry once again.” She smiled as the tear finally rolled down her cheek.

All the while, you were still holding Hoseok’s hand as he sat closely behind you but his fingers were laced with yours on your lap while his right hand gently caressed your sides to calm your nerves down.

For some reason, you could see the sincerity behind her apology. Which is why you reached for her hand afterwards and spoke up.

“I forgive you.”

His mother stared at you in shock, surprised that you forgave her despite all the things she said to you.

“You… really forgive me?”

“I understand that all you wanted was the best for your child. And I couldn’t blame you for that. But apart from that, I’m thankful that you finally approve of my relationship with your son. I love him so much but I dread to see him being torn apart from his family.” You said.

His mother couldn’t help but cry harder as you offered her a hug to which she openly accepted.

You rubbed her back to soothe her nerves only to hear her say, “Hoseok did an excellent job at choosing the right girl.”

You pulled away to find her smiling at you before glancing past your shoulder to look at her son with a look that Hoseok seemed to understand. His parents soon took their leave, while you went back to join Namjoon after saying goodbye to Hoseok’s parents.

Hoseok was just standing by the door to say bye to his parents when his mother cups his face and whispers, “Don’t lose her, no matter what people say. She’s a keeper.”

With that being said, she kissed his forehead and soon left.

Hoseok couldn’t agree more with his mother’s sentence, knowing that he would never let go of you that easily nor would he lose you because of other people’s words. He won’t ever let those things happen.

And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

~~~

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts jhope #jung hoseok #bts hoseok #bts jhope fluff #bts hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenarios #jhope fluff #jhope scenarios #bts x reader #jhope x reader

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

Text

stress + commute + relentless plot bunny = tada, continuation to this!

"Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” Director Fury said as he settled down into his chair, eyeing him with a wariness one would normally give a live bomb, while at his side, Agent Romanov remained eerily impassive as she surveyed them both. “We’ve got some questions I get the feeling only you can answer.”

For his part, Justin Hammer merely leaned back into his own chair and steepled his fingers with an easy smile— which wasn’t as easy as he made it look, with the way he’d been cuffed. “Like I told the guards the first time, and the fifth, and the twelfth— if I knew what’s going on, I’d tell you.”

Though he could make a very reasonable guess, between Ivan’s latest experiment literally blowing up in all their faces and the whispers he’d been able to catch from the guards.

“Sure you would.” Director Fury said, no small amount of disbelief in his voice, and he shrugged.

“Take it from me, I’m about as happy as you are. You think I asked to get dropped smack-dab in the middle of some supermax? When I had a shareholder’s meeting coming up?”

“You appeared the same time an energy fluctuation was registered in several locations around the world.” Agent Romanov said, and Justin blinked.

“Oh?”

“Your existence is being kept classified, on pain of risking an international incident. Several countries’ systems and power grids were apparently caught up in whatever it is you’re a part of, and they’re not nearly as nice about getting their answers as we are.” She continued, the picture of reason, and Justin couldn’t keep the fondness from his smile because some things never changed, did they?

Of course SHIELD’s shadiness was a fundamental constant. And these guys probably thought they were being so subtle, too; Agent Romanov in particular seemed to think she knew him, which would undoubtedly come in handy in the future but was merely a nuisance at the moment. Not that it hurt to play along for now, but still.

Come on, give him some credit here.

“Which is all well and good, but the fact of the matter still stands: I. Don’t. Know. All I know is, one minute I’m caught up in the middle of some accident, thinking I’m going to be seeing pearly gates a whole lot earlier than I’d expected, and the next, these gentlemen—” Justin indicated, giving a slight nod to the security guards standing just out of earshot, “are giving me a...interesting welcome to Seagate, let’s just leave it at that.”

He’d be feeling it for a while, at the very least. Thank goodness for brief stint with the rugby club had taught him how to roll with the hit, otherwise some of the bruises he had would’ve been even uglier than they already were. As it was, getting changed into the stupid jumpsuit they’d forced him to wear had been a trial in and of itself, when simply bending over stole his breath away with the way his ribs twinged.

“That doesn’t answer our question.” Director Fury said, even as Agent Romanov leaned forward slightly.

“We can only help you as much as you help us, Justin.”

He couldn’t help the snort, at that. “What do you want me to say? I’m not some expert in what, dimension-crashing or whatever? Look, I’m not stupid, I saw my twin— or whatever you call him, anyway, I’m not sure how any of this works. Hey, how’d he mess up, anyway? I know I’ve made some poor life choices over the years, but those were mostly terrible haircuts and all-nighters during grad school, not...nothing on this scale.”

Nobody was stupid enough to alienate the CEO of the Hammer Industries, not when they were number one in the defense industry. Not when Justin had enough connections and favors piled up over the years to render him essentially untouchable to anyone but the heaviest of heavy hitters— and even then, they’d have to think twice before going after him.

...in his universe, anyway.

Which begged the question: just how badly had the Justin of this universe fucked up, for him to be in supermax? He needed to know the playing field before he could make any moves, especially if he wanted to secure anyone’s cooperation in getting home.

“You saw him?” Agent Romanov’s brow furrowed for a moment, before leaning back into her chair. “They hadn’t mentioned that.”

Justin let the corner of his mouth twitch up, as he also leaned back and shrugged. “These guys? Yeah, I’ve noticed they’re not exactly the chattiest.”

Director Fury’s frown deepened for a moment, before he gave him a searching look followed by a sharp nod as he stood up. “We’re transferring you into our custody. This matter has gone beyond their pay grade.”

With that, he turned and strode towards the interrogation cell’s entrance, Agent Romanov at his side and Justin rubbed his temples for a second at the impending headache because if this was what he thought it was, he was either going to be dealing with the Avengers, or be disappeared to whatever shady hole in the wall SHIELD had that’d make this place look like the Ritz.

...which also meant the rudimentary plans he’d been working on would be useless. Damn.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, and pretended it didn’t bother him, even as he watched Director Fury get into what appeared to be a very heated conversation with the prison warden. He couldn’t hear anything, not with the inch-thick bulletproof glass that separated the interrogation cell from the rest of the building.

As it was, the warden gestured for the guards to escort him back to his cell with his usual scowl, and Justin was good enough to know a power play when he saw one and oh, it was going to be that kind of mess, wasn’t it.

In the five minutes he’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting him, Seagate Penitentiary’s warden had come across as a jackass who liked to boast about running a tight ship but didn’t actually do anything for it— the epitome of a big fish in a small pond. Which was typically something he could get away with, but if this Director Fury was anything like the one Justin dealt with, then this particular encounter would be the only thing the guards’d be talking about for months.

And then.

The lights flickered for a second, and Justin froze.

So did the guards who’d been about to escort him back to his cell, some of whom were already reaching for their taser guns and he could already feel one of the guards starting to shove him forward when an unholy screech tore through the air and Justin knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what was happening as he caught a glimpse of familiar silver moments before the entire area plummeted into darkness.

Cabal was here.

Victor von Doom was a practical man.

So when his part of the plan had him working with a Winter Soldier who was still in the early stages of recovery from the mindfuck HYDRA was responsible for, he didn’t so much as bat an eye, just made sure he had a few extra backups for if things got hairy.

Which they did, but not for the reasons he or Soldat had expected.

For one, the interference of SHIELD— which had been something they’d picked up some chatter on, but not enough for concrete dates and he was not happy to find that if they hadn’t broken in when they had, Justin would’ve been snatched up and disappeared off to somewhere even harder to reach.

...if not for the fact that their plan required surgical precision, Victor would’ve given into the temptation to shoot something. Or someone, he wasn’t picky.

But needs must, so he gritted his teeth, coldly noted who said what during their eavesdropping, and stuck with the plan he’d formulated because Justin and the others were counting on him.

For his part, Soldat was a great partner for this aspect of their mission; even though he’d never done fieldwork like this before, and was not used to working with a magic user, he rolled with the punches and the guards never saw him coming.

Sometimes literally, because one of the few things Victor had mastered was a basic illusion— the magical equivalent of a flash-bang, sure, but it worked. Sure, it took a lot of focus for both of them to pull it off, but the important part is that it worked and their exit was as clear-cut as they could make it.

So when he and Soldat approached, he gave the signal and Soldat tapped his comm with a muttered, “objective secured,” and Victor didn’t question the odd echo because they had far more pressing matters at hand.

Such as the sight of his oldest friend in a prison jumpsuit, face slightly gaunt and glasses cracked and just like that, Victor found himself regretting telling Soldat about Cabal’s usual ‘no-kill, minimal collateral damage’ MO.

But.

They were on a time crunch, shift change was coming up and it took everything Victor had to stick to The Plan.

One flash-bang later, and Soldat did his part beautifully, a whirlwind of chaos and Justin’d helped him and Winter plan out theoretical combination attacks well enough to know to duck to the side and with that, the most vital part of this entire operation was secured.

“Victor? I’m assuming it’s you.” Justin blinked the stars out of his eyes even as a familiar hand reached over to help him up, and he took it gratefully. “Good to see you too, Winter—”

“It’s Soldat,” the man corrected gruffly even as he ushered him along, and Justin blinked.

“Oh, my apologies. Thank you, Soldat.”

“Introductions later, we’re on a time crunch,” Victor cut in, voice unusually flat and the last time Justin had seen him this angry had been during that HYDRA mess— what was going on?

Seeing his concern, Victor’s expression lightened for a moment and he gave him a quick smile. “Catch you up later, but we really need to go.”

Victor stared.

He couldn’t help it— just.

At his side, his Justin looked at the rest of their allies with concern, even as his counterpart started to pale and hyperventilate and how was this his life?

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#schrodinger's canon #My writing

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dakotacrisis · 3 years

Text

Cherry Blossoms

Coping with my mental health dip by writing something gay for my comfort pairing.

Marigami Hanahaki Disease AU because it is June and I just need some slightly angsty hurt/comfort goodness rn.

Read on AO3

---

Spring was such a beautiful time of year. Probably Kagami’s favorite. All the snow melted and the cold went away and the world slowly started to come back to life. She loved spring in Japan. The whole town would be covered in beautiful pink cherry blossoms. Such a soft and comforting color. There was a reason it was used so much in shows when a character fell in love or started catching feelings for someone.

Kagami had gone most of her life without meeting anyway who made her world pink like in the shows. She was focused on her fencing and her school work. Love just wasn’t in the cards for her it seemed. Maybe when she attended university that would change but so far she was sixteen years old and still had yet to feel even a twinge of that warmth and flutter that seeing the cherry petals back home did.

That was until she moved to France with her mother. She met a boy who was nice and sweet and for the first time she thought that maybe love wasn’t pink and fluttery. Maybe love was golden and flowing, like a beam of sunlight touching the earth. That’s what being around this boy felt like. Adrien Agreste was his name. A nice boy with a nice face and a nice personality. He had friends that she got to meet that came with their own vivid colors. Soothing blue, fiery orange, mysterious indigo, calculating green, and bold red. They were all swell and Kagami liked spending time with them.

Kagami tried to make herself like Adrien more than she did. She wanted to like him so badly. She wanted to feel something more when she was with him. She really did. But that all went out the door one afternoon.

She was sitting with her new friends at a spot on a bridge, eating ice cream and people watching when someone’s phone beeped.

“That’s me,” Alya handed her ice cream to Kagami, “Can you hold that for a second? Thanks.” Kagami took the ice cream without question and watched as Alya’s face split into the biggest grin Kagami had ever seen. “No way! No way! No way!”

“What’s going on?” Nino, Alya’s boyfriend, asked.

“Guess who got home early from her visit to Shanghai?” Alya announced to the group.

The group immediately perked up and began talking excitedly. Now this was new. Who could they possibly be talking about? Kagami had heard nothing about anyone being in Shanghai.

“Is she coming out?” Adrien asked, “It feels like she’s been gone forever.”

“I just texted her our location, she’ll be here in a few minutes!” Alya bounced happily in her seat. “I cannot wait to see her again! It has been way too long!”

“Who are we talking about?” Kagami asked.

“Our friend, Marinette,” Adrien explained, “She spent the last couple months interning at her cousin’s fashion company in Shanghai.”

“We were expecting her home some time next month but apparently she was really missing home and all of us so she decided to come back early. This is so great that you finally get to meet her!” Alya said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention a Marinette before. How come?” Kagami was a very good listener and she would have remembered someone bringing up a long-distance friend.

“Cause once we start talking about her we start missing her and then next thing you know we’re all over at her parent’s bakery eating our sorrows away.” Rose sighed, “She is probably the sweetest person ever so her absence these past couple of months have just been torture. Like a huge part of our lives has been missing.”

Wow. This Marinette was certainly getting built up to be larger than life. Kagami could only imagine what she was like in person. She stewed in her thoughts, listening to everyone’s chatter as she tried to picture what this Marinette girl would look like.

“There she is!” Alya bolted from her seat and ran down street to tackle a girl in a hug. Soon the others had followed suit and clamped onto the girl, effectively blocking her from Kagami’s view. They moved in a massive huddle back towards the benches they were occupying with all the excited squeeing and a bombardment of questions.

“We missed you so much!” she heard Mylene say, “And we have someone new to introduce you to. This is Kagami, a friend we made while you were in Shanghai.”

The crowd parted and Kagami’s world exploded into pink. Every shade of the rosy hue danced before her eyes as she gazed upon a petite Asian looking girl with shoulder length black hair, bright blue eyes, and wearing a simple pink sundress printed with butterflies. Her stomach started to flutter as if the butterflies on the girl’s dress had flown down her throat directly.

“Hello,” Marinette’s voice was like a sweet song that enraptured Kagami’s remaining senses, “It’s nice to meet you, Kagami. My name is Marinette.”

“You too,” Kagami muttered, unable to clear the tickle in her throat, “Nice to meet you too.”

Marinette nodded and was swept back into the conversation with her friends as they asked her what her stay in Shanghai was like. Kagami sat frozen on the bench as the swaths of pink cleared from her gaze. What had that been? In one instant she had been rendered completely dumbstruck by a girl she had just met. Was it because she was cute? Because she was. Marinette was a very pretty girl. Kagami understood what the others meant about a void in their lives with her absence. The girl positively radiated warmth and kindness out of her every pore. The days must seem dreary indeed without her around if this was Kagami’s initial reaction to meeting her.

The evening continued on as everyone caught up with Marinette. Kagami sat off to the sidelines not wanting to intrude on their time. It had been several months since they had seen her after all. Kagami wished that she had something to say to Marinette. But what was there? She didn’t know this girl from Eve. All she knew was that she simultaneously wanted to never be parted from her yet far away from her at the same time. She craved her attention but almost felt unworthy to be near her at the same time. It was a feeling Kagami was not used to.

Soon it was time for everyone to head home. Adrien offered Kagami a ride back to her house and they got into the car together. “So, what did you think of Marinette? You didn’t really talk to her much I noticed.”

“She’s…” Wonderful. Beautiful. Effervescent. An brilliant white swan among honking muddy geese. “She’s nice. I didn’t want to intrude while you all were catching up with her though.”

“I think you two would get along great. Next time we go out you should talk to her. We can even stop by her parent’s bakery tomorrow. I don’t think we’ve ever taken you before.”

“Bakery?”

“Yeah, the Dupain-Cheng Bakery near my school. It’s a great place to get pastries but it is too tempting to be good for your waist line if you know what I mean. Also, with Marinette gone it just bummed everyone out going in and knowing she wasn’t there. That’ll probably change now that she’s home though.”

They pulled up to Kagami’s house. She got out and wandered inside in a daze. She mindlessly kicked off her shoes at the door and went to her room to think over the evening. When she laid down for bed flashes of pink returned, surrounding a brilliant white smile and soft bluebell eyes.

The next day proved no better for her sudden predicament when Adrien dragged Kagami to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery for the first time. The entire bakery felt like an extension of Marinette. Sweetness and cheer filling every corner and when Marinette popped up behind the register in a cute apron and a handkerchief holding her hair back out of her face Kagami saw that same flurry of pink she had the day before.

“They got you working already?” Adrien joked with her. “You would think they’d give you a day off since you just got home.”

“You really think that? This is one of our busiest times of the year.” Marinette rolled her eyes, “I’d be more concerned if they didn’t drag me down here to help. Speaking of which, what can I get for you two today?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Well, with it being spring time we do have these new cherry love letters.” she pulled a tray of pastries out from the case. It was dough that had been folded to look like a letter with cherry filling stuffed inside and sealed with a little icing heart. “They’ve been going fast so if you want some you’d better grab one now.”

“Sounds delicious, we’ll take two.” Adrien said, clapping his hands together, “Kagami loves cherry desserts, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah…” Kagami mumbled. That tickle in her throat was back.

“A girl after my own heart, personally I like strawberries better but cherries are a very close second.” Marinette packed two of the love letters into a small pink box and handed it to Adrien. “You two have fun and come back again soon.”

“When does your shift end? Maybe we could hang out after.” Adrien suggested.

“I can’t really, I still have a ton of unpacking to do once I’m done helping out down here.”

“We can help you unpack.” the words flew out of Kagami’s mouth. “I mean...it would go faster with some help, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s very sweet of you, Kagami. If you two don’t mind it would be a big help and still give us the chance to hang out. I’m really interested in getting to know you a little more.” Marinette flashed her a smile that made Kagami’s knees weak.

This was ridiculous! How could one girl she barely knew have such a strong hold over her already? It was mind boggling. She practically had her own gravitational pull.

Adrien and Kagami left the bakery to walk around and eat their pastries while they waited for Marinette’s shift to end. Adrien commented on how it was so nice of Kagami to volunteer to help Marinette despite not really knowing her. Yep...just good old Kagami saying stuff before she thinks because she doesn’t know how to handle herself in front of the pretty girl that bathes her world in endless waves of sugar and pink. The cherry love letter in her hand almost seemed to mock her. Why couldn’t they have been regular turnovers? Why did they have to be called love letters of all things?

After a few hours Adrien got a text from Marinette that she was done and the two turned around to head back towards the bakery. Kagami seriously considered pretending to have a sudden appointment or practice to get out of going back which was not like her. She was Kagami Tsurugi for goodness sake! She didn’t run from a challenge! She faced all her problems head on and she did not hesitate for anything. Yet this freaking girl made her want to run and hide like a coward.

They made it back and Adrien lead them through a back door up a flight of stairs to the apartment above the bakery. Marinette greeted them just as cheerfully as she did when they walked into the bakery earlier. Kagami took a deep breath and braced herself as she entered her home. It was a fairly normal little house. Nothing too out of the ordinary. They walked up another set of stairs and through a trapdoor into what was Marinette’s room.

Kagami almost fainted. It wasn’t just that Marinette herself made everything around her look pink and sweet but that was what her entire room looked like. Everything was pink from the walls to the furniture to the wastepaper basket. At least when she was around Marinette the pink faded away into background noise after a while. Here it felt like Kagami was trapped with these weird feeling she had been experiencing since she first met the girl.

“I really appreciate you guys coming over to help, everything is a bit of a mess right now.” She sighed at the clothes tossed over the chaise and spilling out of her luggage. “Oh! Before I forget! Adrien, I got you a little souvenir while I was in Shanghai.” Marinette rifled through her luggage and pulled out a little black kitty plush with a green collar and bell. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing ever? There was a little corner shop near my cousin’s office building that sold hand made plushies and I just had to pick some up.”

“He’s adorable!” Adrien took the kitten with glee, “Thank you!”

“I figured you’d appreciate it since your dad won’t let you have an actual cat. I debated getting you a hamster one but there was only one and I’m sorry to say but I was selfish and wanted to keep her for my self.” She pulled out another plush of a tan and white hamster wearing a little red raincoat and hat. “Isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“I swear I’m gonna cry,” Adrien was not joking, he looked like he was close to real tears, “She’s so cute! Look at her little raincoat!”

“I know!” Marinette turned to Kagami, “I wish I had know that you were around, Kagami, or else I would have brought you a souvenir too.”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” Kagami waved it off, “You couldn’t have known so it really doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, I have just the thing,” Marinette started throwing her clothes around as she dug through more of her luggage and making more of a mess. “Here we are! You can have this!”

“Really, you don’t need to--”

“I insist,” Marinette held up a pink butterfly barrette and clipped it into Kagami’s hair, “I got a lot of free stuff just like it while interning for my cousin. And now we match!” she clipped a similar butterfly barrette into her own hair.

Kagami mumbled her thanks and spent the rest of the afternoon in silence whilst Adrien and Marinette did most of the talking. The three of them went about unpacking and putting stuff away where Marinette told them to. Every now and again they would try to pull Kagami into their conversation but she was finding it increasingly harder to find her tongue in this scenario. At one point Adrien excused himself to use the bathroom leaving the two girls alone.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Marinette said after Adrien had left. Kagami looked across at her in surprise. Marinette spoke so calmly with a serene and understanding smile, “I get it. My friend Nathaneal was never much of a talker either. I still got to know a lot about him though through other means. Kinda like I’m doing with you. It’s sorta like a fun little game, deciphering someone’s personality from what they do rather than what they say.”

Kagami wasn’t sure what to say so she simply nodded and let Marinette keep talking.

“Like I can tell from the way you fold stuff that you are very neat and organized. You are dressed sharply like you want to impress people but the clothes are well loved so you find them comfortable and wear them more for yourself than you do anyone else. Your hair is short and neatly trimmed meaning you probably get it cut often so it stays salon fresh but also because you can’t stand it when it touches your shoulders. You don’t like distractions or having to worry about maintaining it during long days.” Marinette listed everything off as if it was common knowledge. Kagami could only stare both impressed and a little intimidated by her spot on assessment. She got all of that just from watching her for a couple hours?

“You also hum while you work and you smiled at the silly little souvenirs I brought back.” Marinette continued, “There’s not a whole lot I can gather from that I just thought it was cute.”

“You are a very perceptive person, aren’t you?” Kagami found something to say at long last.

“I like to think so. People express who they are through every little thing that they do and I find that kind of fascinating. When you take the time to watch someone you see all these little things that build up into the person as a whole. Eventually when you look at them you don’t see their face you just see them. Like their entire personality is written into the laugh lines and freckles on their face.”

“I get what you mean.” Kagami said, easing into the conversation the more she spoke, “It’s like how I felt when I met Adrien. When we met he was just the cute blonde boy with big green eyes but as time went on he transformed into this smart yet incredibly naive, pun-spewing dork.”

“That is an accurate summation of his character. Never have I met a boy that gets such immaculate grades but will walk face first into a pole he saw coming.” the girls laughed. When Adrien came back up he asked what was so funny which just made them chuckle more. They waved him off saying it was just a little girl talk and to not worry about it. Kagami loosened up a bit more, she still didn’t talk much but she didn’t feel like fleeing in a rush of nerves either.

When everything was done Adrien and Kagami left. Marinette had given Kagami her number before they had gone and told her to text her soon. Even her little sticky notes were cute. They were shaped like cherry blossoms.

“What did I tell you?” Adrien nudged her as they left, “You and Marinette got along just fine. Then again, it’s hard not to want to be her friend, isn’t it?”

Kagami glanced back at the house. Little fairy lights twinkling in the evening along Marinette’s balcony. She cleared her throat of the tickling feeling that had lodged there. “It surely is,”

---

(Next)

#miraculous ladybug #marigami #kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #hanahaki disease au

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

I don’t often muse upon PJO, but when I do, its random as hell.

Anyway, tonight’s thought (singular, also: derogatory, as in very possibly a mistake) is about exploring aspects of the Greek gods that are extrapolations of like, what they’d be like in the modern world instead of just in terms of their ancient myths.....and how that might widen the scope of their demigod children and their powers.

Like take Hephaestus for instance. God of the forge and fire, of invention and artifice......now widen the scope on those things through the lens of the modern age.....might he also be considered the god of modern science, not just in terms of things like engineering and technology, but also physics, chemistry? Or would those things fall more under Athena’s purview......unless you separated them into finer divisions. Like, you could consider Athena’s overview of knowledge and wisdom to make her the goddess of science and higher learning or whatever in general........OR you could separate it like.....Hephaestus is the god of natural or physical sciences like physics and chemistry, and Athena is the goddess of not just wisdom and tactics but things like psychology, computer sciences, etc.

Or OR get Dionysus up in there too, and make it like Hephaestus is the god of chemistry, of chemical reactions and the like, Athena is the goddess of physics, of the most full and complete understanding of the physical universe via things like the unified field theory and its comprising forces of electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear force, etc, and then Dionysus the god of biology, hmmmm.....

Cuz imagine then, demigod children of Hephaestus, where instead of pyrokinesis, some get powers like transmuting elements.......oh man, the things you could do with that??? Not just lead into gold but they’d be terrors in battle because they could transmute the very air someone breathes into chlorine gas, blood into acid, flesh into stone. Or using that power defensively, making them able to keep guns from firing by dampening the chemical reaction that comes from igniting gunpowder, or just knocking someone out or putting them to sleep by just tanking their metabolic reactions. Mingling magic with modern know-how and creating their own version of truth serums by turning the water someone drinks into something akin to sodium pentathol when just brushing their fingers against someone’s glass, or rendering all drugs or toxins that might have been slipped into their drink null and void by transmuting them into harmless H20.

(I know that Luke was mentioned briefly as being good at making potions aka alchemy due to being a son of Hermes, but frankly, transmutation as a mastery of the periodic table makes waaaaay more sense for Hephaestus’ kids, I’m just saying. And plus the Greeks didn’t so much consider Hermes an actual god of alchemy as they more just kinda viewed him as their god of all things miscellaneous and tended to lump anything they didn’t have particularly strong feelings about and/or a grasp of under his umbrella. Hermes was really just the patron god of being random as fuck and oh great gods of Olympus I have no idea what I want to do with my life, give me a sign. Hermes: poofs into existence on their shoulder and says SOUNDS LIKE YOU NEED TO GO BE GAY AND DO CRIME YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, DIVINE MANDATE, LETS GOOOOOOO).

Give children of Athena more practical applications for being heirs to her wisdom, knowledge and strategic acumen by also giving her dominion in the modern age over humanity’s quest to better understand the universe we live in and all its rules, the ins and outs of the laws that govern reality itself.......thus Annabeth and others’ potential acumen for magic being here not the end result of them stepping on Hecate and her kids’ toes, but rather more a function of making them the embodiment of ‘magic is just sufficiently advanced technology’ as they - via an innate and heightened understanding of the very nature of the physical universe - find holes in the fabric of space and time that let them slip from Point A to Point B as easily as crossing the street, play tricks with gravity and relativity and things that leave others baffled and amazed and them just shrugging and being like its all in the wrist, dude, and also, the fact that our mom just GETS reality in a way that everyone else will still be playing catch-up to a thousand years from now.

Children of Dionysus (yes I know he barely has any shhh we’re not paying attention to the series we’re just musing on demigod powers here) who combine the godhood of grapes and revelry with loud music and laughter......the way music can help with plant growth, because music is essentially just VIBRATIONS and vibrations stimulate activity in plant cells in a variety of ways.....and thus similar to Mr. D’s tricks with controlling vines and rapidly growing plants, AND his ability to affect the psyches of others, which is described as inflicting or curing madness and I’m like ehhhh do we have to describe it thus though.....put all that in a pot, shake it, not stir, and abrakadabra, alakazam, other psychic pokemon random Psyduck shout-out and voila! ALL of that could be afixed to and made the end product of godly and demigodly control and manipulation of vibrations, cuz Dionysus is literally the god of just vibing in all its infinite forms.....and thus its all just about how vibrations affect plant life on a cellular level, how they can affect brain chemistry in a variety of ways, triggering a lot of the more primal centers/functions of the brain, etc. You kids are driving me crazy, he’d yell at his demigod kids, and they’re like umm wow, like ACK CHOO UGHLY, father, welcome to the 21st century, all we’re really doing is directly stimulating the prefrontal cortex of your cerebellum with our banging rock music, and its making you angy, what about it?

And speaking of actually, if we and by we I mean me cuz I am and its wheee, are theorizing about Athena’s brood getting to be all magical wunderkind whizkids with their scientific acumen and divine cheat-sheets for the physical universe, maybe Aphrodite and her kids could snatch up those psychology and psychiatry job titles instead. Love, desire, also things like obsession, hyper-fixation......is Cabin Mighty Aphrodite really just pheromone central or are its campers more like magical dopamine and serotonin factories just pumping out good vibes all around them, being like come hang out, its free brain juice. Like, imagine kids of Aphrodite who just by their mere presence could help the legions of ADHD demigods focus better, concentrate easier, get shit done because the goddess of passion and her children like....have the gift of helping people to more productively pursue their passions in ALL forms, not just the physical desires they hold for others but the passions they hold for arts and crafts and sports and y’know, saving the world on magical coming-of-age quests when their milkshakes bring all the monsters to the yard.

And then Ares not just as a god of war and conflict, but of entropy....the tendency of the universe to trend towards disorder, randomness, uncertainty....the kind of things that so often incite or enflame conflict......but applied at large not just to interpersonal dynamics but to the world itself. With his children possessing demigod abilities that disrupt or weaken bonds, both in the form of emotional ties between allies and commitments towards various ideals or courses of action, but also the ability to PHYSICALLY weaken bonds, resulting in an enemy’s weapon falling apart at a touch, or increasing the instability or volatility of an object so it blows up akin to how Gambit of the X-Men’s powers work and can turn even playing cards into a weapon, etc, etc.

And don’t even get me started on Hermes! No, seriously, don’t. Mostly because I haven’t thought that one through yet and I got nothing. I mean I got some things but they are nebulous and have yet to spring forth fully formed from my head like Athena from the fuckhead of Zeus, that absolute fuckhead of legend and yore. In my defense though, I haven’t like, eaten any primordial goddesses of thought and memory, so.......like, idk, I’m taking the longer route here I guess.

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

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@ravenfan1242 You said short and it started short and well, it just became this the way only an open prompt can... I hope it’s remotely decent!!!

----

Raven leaned against the table and under her light weight, Jason could swear the solid structure shifted. From the moment she arrived, brandishing an eco-friendly tote, she was weighted down. Even after relinquishing the heavy bag, she still seemed to sag into it.

"I'm worried, Jason."

"Raven, don't be," he offered quickly. "I mean, look around you, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine." A heavy sigh exited her body. "There's something else I'm forgetting... I just feel like I should do something... Something more."

"That's pretty clear." He pointed at the huge bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It was all organic and more than enough fodder to sustain two down and out Jason Todds for a month. Completely and utterly unnecessary. But, if you spent enough time brushing the tuxedo-covered and satin gloved elbows of the Gotham elite, you grew familiar with the concept of overcompensation. "I don't know why you're worried. I have everything I need here - and some. Oh and good morning - by the way."

Her blue-violet eyes narrowed and then ran their lap around the space for about the eighth time. "Natural light... That's the problem." She wrung her hands together. "There's no natural light... But, I should have figured that bulbs alone weren't enough."

"You think I need exposure to sunlight? That's certainly rich." Jason's chin jutted in her direction. "It really means so much coming from you." The half-demon's pallor was pretty standout in the tight black v-neck, more than usual, which was saying something. It was like someone had flipped a switch to change the settings to negative, then pointed it solely on her, leaving the colors of her skin and sweater equally inverted.

"You're vitamin D deficient - probably... Definitely. Or you will be..." Once more, she fussed about the beige corded string tote. She held up the carton of milk and then a container of yogurt, examining percentages, as if expecting these offerings to remedy the problem in the short term.

Jason half considered telling her she'd do well to down a glass or a spoonful herself, but he held his tongue. This was clearly about alleviating what she could, so as not to focus on the real problem.

"Underground to underground bunker...?" Jason stretched his arms behind his head leaning back onto the small couch in the hideout. "I can't help but consider this a vast improvement." The space was so very much like a studio. So it was practically palatial compared to his previous digs in the cemetery. He barely stifled a scoff as he contemplated yet another bitter realty. B couldn't be bothered to spring for a bloody crypt. It was probably confirmation of where he ranked. What did it matter? There was a revolving door of Robins anyway.

"So, I suppose... it can't be helped," she said somberly.

"Exactly. If you've been deep down enough, natural light becomes a cursory concern." It was meant to be an offhand remark, as he was sure she knew what lay underneath the earth's surface better than most. But Jason watched as the daughter of Trigon actually flinched. She was quivering slightly with her small shoulders starting to shake. Some part of this had to be beyond her, it was the only way for someone so powerful to seem so fragile.

Raven was the only one who could say with certainty that Jason Todd's coffin in Gotham Cemetery was empty.

The hardest part was supposed to be over, but neither of them really knew what was going to happen now.

Would he have good days and bad days? Or just all bad? What were the long-term after effects?

He could try to be proactive and take some preemptive actions. Perhaps he could borrow a leaflet from the shelf of one Raven Roth and start meditating to pinion the chaotic churn burgeoning inside him.

Steady the mind... You are neither a puppet nor a proponent of mania, or the voices inside...

He had a couple of chants he was mulling over. Raven knew the value of a good chant.

She also knew what it was like to have multiple forces pressing themselves upon her at any given time. Sometimes literally.

But the occasional moment in front of the crimson and gold strewn sky of dawn, brought her solace.

She'd told him that once, so he could believe it.

Maybe if he too could feel the sunlight, smell dewy grass, or hear the chirping of birds, it would make him feel less apart from the world. Or maybe he would just feel more strange and inhuman, like he was something indecent that didn't belong. And all the organic groceries and housewares in the world wouldn't be enough to rehabilitate the reanimated corpse of Jason Todd. Though Raven sure seemed willing to try.

Wait.

Did she really?

He sat up straight and craned his neck, not believing it. Among the health food items, Jason saw a flash of bright packaging. An orange tin of biscuits. He also spied a familiar looking paper carton. Well, well. Cigarettes.

Circumstances aside, wasn't Raven a do-gooder supreme, even among her fellow Titans? She didn't strike him as one to approve of cigarettes. They kill and all that. Though now she probably figured what was the harm? And he had to painfully agree.

In a state of delirium, he vaguely recalled mentioning something about a smoke. But how on earth did Raven find his favorite English biscuits? His weakness for Hobnobs was something he figured only Alfred knew about.

How did she always know?

Perhaps Raven had seen a small package on his place setting while visiting the manor and filed it away somewhere. In, but never out, she was Fort Knox. And like a fortress, one rarely ever knew what lay within her walls.

Hmm. A cigarette, black coffee and a biscuit for breakfast. Yes, the familiarity of it sounded comforting. Made the place feel downright homey. And suddenly Jason wanted her closer to him, to hold her, at the most. At the least, reach for her hand to squeeze it, if not to reassure her that she had done more than she could ever know.

"It's nice - the blanket... Wool, right?" He patted the soft blue throw resting over the back of the couch, another furnishing, courtesy of Raven. She pursed her lips, probably thinking he was being facetious again. "But, really. I appreciate this - and the food. Didn't I make that clear?"

"No, you didn't." She thumped the back of the couch, now hovering above Jason. "But, of course that would mean that nothing has changed."

"So..." A smirk spread onto his face, as he replayed the last fifteen minutes of their conversation. "That Vitamin D..." Raven blinked slowly, then rapidly, her expression no longer blank. "Being that you're a bit of a recluse, I always guessed that it's pretty difficult to come by... Is that by choice, or -"

"Raven?"

But the half-demon's body stood frozen like a statue. It was always so sudden and swift when it happened. Jason watched helplessly as the emotions arisen from her depths started to vanish themselves. The bloom of red left her face almost as quickly as it had come.

"Raven?"

It was utterly useless to even try. She was somewhere else now. On another plane - a private one - somewhere beyond this secret room to another. Raven was speaking with people he couldn't see and having conversations he couldn't hear. The severe line of her mouth softened and then curved over, as she bit her lip to stifle a tiny smile.

Well that was just great.

Currently, she was holding back a laugh at a joke that wasn't his. So, not people, a person. The only person it could be. And that man's timing was nothing if not spot on.

He stood up abruptly and -

Wait, was it even abrupt if no one noticed?

Who was to say?

But Jason wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to thaw. He figured he'd at least just pick up where she left off. He shot one more glance at Raven before he opened the empty fridge and filed in milk, eggs, and cheese. Huh. She'd gotten mild cheddar, not sharp.

Did anything at all get by her?

Of course, the fall of footsteps meant she was cooked. Defrosted, no longer in suspended animation. She glanced back and forth, calling out when she didn't see him.

"Jason... Jason?"

"Polo. It's not the manor. There's only one door and it's for the bathroom." That was harsher than he meant it to be. He stopped and sighed. "It was him, wasn't it?"

This was Raven, she didn't often lie, not even to spare feelings. "Yes. He... uh..." She paused for a while. Longer than was necessary. Five whole minutes went by. Was she conversing with him again? "Sorry... That was him. Dick hadn't seen me this morning and he seemed worried."

What did he somehow forget what Raven looked like?

Not likely.

Besides, didn't a mind meld render the need for that redundant? Or did theirs not work that way?

"Twice in twenty minutes, that's got to be serious."

"Well... Yes." She shrunk inwardly, holding herself tightly, amethyst orbs darted to the very corner of her eyes. It was the kind of shape someone twisted themselves into when prefacing a breach of something uncomfortable. "He wanted to make sure I was coming."

"Coming? To what - Birdy Book club?" Jason picked up another package. More cheese? Shredded and sliced in addition to the wedge. And Gods, was there crumbled in there too? He was perfectly capable of slicing or shredding or crumbling his own cheese. After all, he was well-versed in knife handling and had plenty of interesting shapes to carve things into.

Or had Raven removed all the sharp objects and replaced them with throw pillows?

"I told you." He shrugged. "You forgot? It's today." Then Raven's voice went low and quiet, as if she were about to speak about something improper. "It's the opening of the..." She swallowed. "Memorial today..."

The memorial.

His memorial.

Of course, he forgot, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

A can of tomatoes slid from his shaking palm and started to roll past his feet. The ghostly burn of verdant followed the steady path of the cylinder, until it bumped into the couch's leg, unable to go on unaided.

"Yeah..." he said after a while. When Raven didn't move, he nodded. "You should go..." He attempted what he believed to be an encouraging smile. Raven winced and Jason wished she wouldn't. He almost preferred pity. "You definitely have to go to that, don't you?"

"Well, yes I have to go. As a Titan and a friend of the family. I have to go and show my face." The half-demon avoided his gaze.

In spite everything that was thrown at her, Raven did the right thing. Why was it that he always seemed to say and do the wrong thing? He could feel a pull towards it now. Amplified. Not lulling like white noise. Loudly, it was rising, roaring in his ears. Burning, red noise.

All he could think about was why? Why this? Why today? And was he seriously unpacking groceries, when he should be in a grave?

What the hell was he doing?

When he shut the fridge, Raven was standing next to it, with her eyes glazed over, nodding at that which he couldn't see.

And she was talking to him again. In the middle of their conversation.

Perfect.

Raven was on it. She was taking care of everything. And everyone. This was best for everyone right now.

But that certainly didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Raven would climb out of here once this was over. She could go out there and stand in the bright light - with him and their friends and family. Jason was stuck in a damned bunker and what did he get? A tin of biscuits and a pack of cigarettes. Concrete walls. Stale air. No sun. In his former life, Jason had never fully appreciated the sun or the air. He glared at the spotless, dustless, windowless room.

Was she really going to go off and fake it for the world?

And was he going to stay here underground, like he was dead - or as good as?

"Go, I'm all set here," Jason tried flatly. "You can go and put on a dress. Stand there at Dick's shoulder...let him hold your hand."

He had tried his hardest not to think about what his memorial would be like. And now, he couldn't help but picture it.

The specter of Jason Todd would hang silently above those in attendance. But since he wasn't dead, perhaps the only shadows would be cast by this latest slab of stone. Would it be a statue or a sculpture or an engraved tablet? He hoped this one would at least have a better inscription than the one in the cemetery.

Something like:

Jason Todd.

Never fully at rest in life or in death.

The war wages on.

Eternal.

A little noise ripped the image from him. Raven was staring at him with her eyes widened and shocked. She hadn't ever looked at him like that. Not even when she saw him covered in graveyard soil, suit torn to shreds, body broken. The empath faltered and took a clumsy step backward.

"Are you scared of me, Raven?" He felt worse than terrible. "Where is all that talk about not giving up and not letting go?"

"Gods. There's no doubt you're the same Jason. Still the same arrogant -" She clenched a fist. Was she contemplating shoving him? No. Ironically enough, he was too breakable.

"-ass with a selective filter, you mean?" Jason laughed, though the humorless sound of it was probably cruel. "That's crass of you, Raven. Don't they teach you not to speak ill of the dead in other dimensions? Better practice up on that custom before you step out of the town car."

"Stop it." She reached for him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. It was just a hair too big. Because there was a side effect that they could count on: atrophy. Notably, it was one of his least favorite. "It's not me you're mad at. But it is your day. So you can yell, or throw things, and...you can cry if you want to." Her eyes were brimming over with tears enough for the both of them.

He swallowed, wondering if it was too much, if she was taking on too much.

"Crying already?" Jason tried to smirk if not fall back into usual patterns, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult. He had never seen her cry, not even when she was brushing the dirt from his face. "Don't waste it all here. I know they're for me, but... I think you'll need to save some of those, for later."

"Yeah, I do." And then she laughed bitterly. Miserably.

She wiped her face on her sweater sleeve right as Jason felt a sharp impulse to brush them away for her. He ground his teeth. "You'll give 'em a good show - for me?"

"I won't have to, Jason." There was no need to glance at her to know the mask of Raven that everyone knew was back in place.

"Because... it won't be a show."

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chaosintheavenue · 4 years

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In case it helps anyone, have a few random tips on dealing with miscellaneous sensory stuff that I've picked up over the years:

Fragrance-free toiletries are your friend for times when you frankly don't need any more sensory information coming your way, but not all are created equal. If you're in the UK, Sanex Zero% (not sponsored at all lol, and there are almost definitely more brands out there, but this is one I can vouch for) is a range of genuinely colour and scent-free toiletries. There is a very faint soap-like smell if you concentrate, I admit, but that's probably unavoidable, and it's still a drastic improvement from some allegedly scent-free products. It doesn't look like it's readily available outside of the UK, though

If a topic has a certain colour to you, it will both be less distracting in the moment and help your memory later on if you write notes on it in that colour. You can tailor how many colours you use to your own needs. E.g. if changing pens constantly will be more distracting than using the wrong shade of a colour, stick to a basic set. If the opposite applies, and you need the shades to be precise, you might want to invest in a more expansive set, like a case of art fineliners (and I'd recommend practicing the art of switching between pens quickly if you're going to have a lot of colours whilst taking notes in a timed setting such as a live lecture). Or, if you have the option of typing, computers have essentially infinite colour options, and you don't need to worry about popping lids back on whilst trying to pay attention!

Regarding the last point, I know some schools do insist on everything being written in black (which doesn't make any sense to me, but... anyways). In my experience, highlighting over the black text in different colours is usually still allowed in these cases, provided it's your own notes and not an exam or essay or something. But helpful tip- if you're going to try this approach, do not use a gel fineliner for the initial writing! It WILL smear when highlighted!

If looking at a full page of text is overwhelming, you can use a blank sheet of paper to cover up the parts you're not actively reading on paper, or zoom in so you can see less text at a time on a computer

If you chew on objects of any kind, or hold things in your mouth for sensory input, get some silicone 'chewelry'. I used to chew on my collars badly enough that most tops were rendered unwearable pretty quickly, up until I invested in a few chew necklaces in November to see what all the fuss was about. Those things are truly game-changing, IMO. The silicone is odourless and tasteless, you can choose the firmness, textures and colours you want, and there are subtle designs available that look like a regular necklace or wristband if you prefer low-key. I will say that some of my necklaces did have a weird, unpleasant powdery texture to the surface when they arrived, but after multiple washes that has now resolved

(I first heard this one somewhere else, but I've used it with success, so here it is anyway) Telling people that you have a migraine works as an 'excuse' for a lot of sensory things, including needing to leave an overstimulating area or situation, lights, sounds or smells being too intense, needing to wear ear defenders or dark glasses indoors, wanting quiet, darkness and solitude, or not wanting to eat specific foods (as migraines can both be triggered by certain foods and cause nausea). And it's not technically lying either, since if you did Do The Thing and end up going into sensory overload, there's a good chance you really would end up with a migraine if you're prone to them

If people struggle to understand how grapheme-colour synaesthesia or OLP work, point them in the direction of the British kids' shows Alphablocks and Numberjacks (each letter or number in these shows has a set colour, age, gender and personality)

If you tend to panic and/or lose your vision with unexpected loud noises, laying out and learning a pattern of simple steps for yourself to take in case of, for instance, a fire alarm going off, can be the key to not freezing up. I feel like an anecdote will explain what I mean with this technique best, so here goes...

(this anecdote features myself in meltdown mode, so I'm popping it under a cut in case peeps want to avoid that description)

When I lived in university halls, the fire alarm would regularly go off in the middle of the night thanks to intoxicated students attempting to cook. The first time it happened, I was not expecting it at all, but luckily the alarm featured a voice stating 'leave the building' as well as the typical siren, which kept me grounded enough to get outside- tripping over along the way- before having a full meltdown in the car park at 4am (great fun... not). I vowed to never let that happen again, so as preparation for future fire alarm activations, I a) placed a pair of slip-on shoes right next to my bed so I wouldn't have to guess where they were and fumble about with straps without being able to see, b) taught myself a mantra of 'shoes, out (into the corridor), wall (to guide me to the door whilst I couldn't see), door' to prevent my brain from freezing up in the moment (the alarm didn't always have the voice that had helped me, for some reason), and c) had a day of practice where I set multiple phone alarms for random intervals throughout the day, so I got experience of going through the process without prior notice. The future fire alarms after that were still not pleasant, but the ingrained routine always kicked in, and in fact I was always the first person outside

#sensory issues #autism #actually autistic #food mention #alcohol mention #I'm kind of just yelling unsolicited tips to my hypothetical younger self into the void here #but I hope someone does find it useful!#btw the bold parts aren't any more important than the rest #I just wanted to break up the text wall given my target audience

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meruz · 4 years

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replying to some asks - lots of weird preachy art advice. just trying to cram every sophomore year art school lecture into my blog

ANON, PLEASE SEND ME A PICTURE OF THIS..........................

glad to hear it!!!! I always love to see sketches from other artists but somehow when I post mine I feel like it’s just...cheap? like its not ““Real content”““ LOL... but if even one person likes to see it thats all I need to hear

very interesting question, thank you for being specific because that makes it a lot easier to answer. This is going to kind of sound like what every other artist tells you but

1) Go to figure drawing classes/sessions! I know we’re in the middle of a pandemic right now but actually that might even make it easier to find because a lot of figure drawing sessions are being held online atm! Anyways, I cannot possibly overemphasize the importance or studying the human form from life. It’s something that artists spend their whole lives studying and still learn new things about. Nude figure sessions are far preferred over clothed ones especially for beginners but, really, any practice from life helps. Whenever you draw from observation, make sure to step back and really look at your model and then your drawing. What discrepancies do you see, what feels like its missing, where do you think you can improve, etc etc. developing a critical eye is crucial.

I think figure drawing classes are the best method by far but theres plenty of other ways to get the practice in. I do a lot of cafe drawing and drawing on public transport, personally. Drawing from life is vastly preferred over drawing from photo reference because the human body is a living thing and conveying it properly means understanding 3D space and gesture and movement, all things that are easier to perceive irl. A lot of artists draw from dance videos on youtube to at least get the idea of movement even if it’s ultimately from a 2D screen. Recently, I’ve been drawing a lot from rock climbing videos on youtube!

because they’re climbing you actually get a lot of interesting angles LOL... good study of pose-to-pose relationships too, actually..

2) Practice dynamically. If you can develop the eye to figure out where your drawings are lacking, you can practice with those weaknesses in mind. If you realize you don’t really understand the structure of a foot or the back of the head or the back when it’s arched, look up references and practice those things specifically. Sometimes it’s not in the specifics but the general - if you realize you have a hard time proportioning out the figure, draw guides for yourself and set goals to draw proportions before details. Stuff like that.

3) Box Trick. This is just the simplest way to get a set of guidelines down for perspective on the human body the same way you put down guidelines to figure out where the eyes sit on the head LOL.

but here’s something to keep in mind regardless: perspective is a game. You’re tricking the eye into thinking something is close or far when actually its just sitting on the same 2D plane as everything else. You can do the math and make all the guides you want but at the end of the day its either going to look convincing or its not. And being convincing is a lot less about being accurate and a lot more about confidently selling your point. So don’t sweat the calculations of proportions, make hands or heads or feet as big as you feel is right and trust your eye and your gut over your brain.

Hi, yeah sure go ahead! As long as you link+credit me, I don’t mind my work being used for non-profit purposes. Especially fanart like.. I don’t even own these characters LOL. Just, if you edit my art, please don’t use it to perpetuate like...hate speech or even edgy politics... unless they are edgy politics I have explicitly endorsed LOL. If you’re ever on the fence abt it feel free to ask, of course!

TYSSMMM yeah ideally I guess its just ? group therapy LOL? I feel like actually Ryuji, Akechi, and Haru are characters we see very rarely interact and when they do they seem very alienated by each other?? So I think it would actually be great for them to chat LOL they have a lot in common especially the fondness for direct action.

VERY NICE THINGS TO SAY TYSMMMMMMMMMM

I guess since I was old enough to hold a crayon? Doesn’t every kid draw?

But if you mean when I started seriously drawing and trying to get better.. I guess I started carrying a sketchbook when I was 12-13 years old and I’m turning 25 in a couple days so it’s been 12-13 years about. I don’t believe that years have any huge bearing on art progress though. You can be drawing for 50 years without ever deepening or widening your skill set, if you stick to the same old patterns day in and day out. Similarly an artist who is proactive with learning new skills and targeting their weaknesses can improve in leaps and bounds in a matter of weeks.

The style I currently use for painting, I only really started using.... about 3 years ago? When I was a senior in college.

but i wouldn’t say I’ve “““mastered”““ it and I doubt I really ever will because I don’t think that’s the point... I’m constantly changing things depending on how I want a painting to look or the way I want it to feel... or how I feel on any given day LOL

the thing about art style is I don’t think it’s actually something you have to work on or “find”. An artist should change the way they draw depending on the subjects or techniques they want to explore. If I wanted to convey comedy, I’d draw characters differently from how I would if I wanted to portray drama. And if I wanted to focus on lighting I’d paint differently from how I would if I wanted to focus on the details of the human form. When I was drawing a lot of digimon fanart earlier this year I drew differently from how I’m drawing now while putting out a lot of persona 5 fanart LOL - even when the content is similar the characters have different gestures and different tone that I convey through any number of things, proportion, rendering, edge definition, color range, etc etc.

as you experiment with techniques and approaches undoubtedly there’ll be some you’re naturally better at or more interested in than others. and i think that’s what a person’s “art style” really is, the stuff that you gravitate to and come back to over and over even as you transform and explore.

not sure if that makes sense but.. that’s my two cents, anyway.

yea hit me uppp dude [email protected] lmk what you want and I’ll give you a quote

#art advice??? LOL #ask #anon #anonymous #parkore #whatevayouwannacallit #lesbianellliesattler

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samingtonwilson · 5 years

Text

Apartment 8C - Chapter 4

The First, First Date

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE, the use of marijuana/pot/weed/reefer/that loud

A/N: i had a bad thought while writing this chapter and i’m not going to share it with y’all because that might put y’all off this story. actually fuck it, i’ll share the thought. isn’t it so weird how obsessed we all are with love? like these are college students with so much more happening in their lives but they’re sitting around and always talking about love. and a lot of us do that shit too. weirdos.

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky replies to it with a groan. A loud, I don’t give a fuck if the neighbors hear me kind of groan.

Slumped on the couch, phone balanced on his stomach and remote control set on his thigh, he very nearly snarls. He doesn’t bother to pick up either electronic as he stands, letting his phone fall face down on the area rug while the remote knocks against its corner with a clang.

His journey to the door is comprised less of steps and more of a slide, a glide, a bit of a skate. He’s thankful he kept his socks on and unlocks the door, eyes half-lidded and heavy head tilted back. “The delivery instructions said to text and leave the bag at the door, not to knock and make me get up.”

“That how you talk to delivery people? They should ban your sorry ass from Doordash.”

He straightens his head and glares at Steve— smirking, smug, smart ass Steve who holds a large brown paper bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. It somehow makes Bucky frown deeper. “You intercepted my delivery?”

“And brought you beer,” he holds the cardboard case up and shakes it, smiling.

That smile fades, however, when he pauses in thought for a moment. He frowns then, indignant. Pushes Bucky out of the way to cross the threshold into the apartment. “So, you know, you’re fuckin’ welcome, you ungrateful jerk.”

A sigh and Bucky shuts the door. He watches as Steve appraises the room and feels no shame at the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Instead, he rolls his eyes when Steve fully faces him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You clean out your fridge? It broken or something?” Steve asks. He sets the bag and beer onto the coffee table, shuts Bucky’s dead laptop that he hasn’t bothered to charge. Steve then places Bucky’s phone and the remote control on the couch and begins to gather the empty take out containers still cool from the refrigerator.

Bucky grits his teeth at the sight. “Steve, just— What the hell are you doing?”

“Picking all this shit up so we can eat and watch the game,” there’s a cheerful lilt through his words. He sends a smile Bucky’s way, humor in the blue of his eyes, as he passes to toss the containers into the trash. “Thanks for asking, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”

“I—” Bucky still stands by the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in incredulity when Steve crosses to the couch once more and falls into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “Steve, I’m not in the mood today, man.”

“In the mood for what?” The volume of the television is turned up, Steve hugs the elephant cushion to his chest. “You were gonna watch the game anyway, so was I. Might as well do that in the same place and eat a li’l somethin’ while we’re at it.”

Bucky’s sigh is one of defeat. He takes steps back to the couch rather than skating over, and sits beside Steve with a mumbled, “I didn’t order anything with your fat head in mind.”

Steve leans forward to pull the bag open, paper crinkling as he pulls a sandwich from the depths. He tosses what remains in the bag onto Bucky’s lap. “Stopped at a deli on the way here. Don’t know what the fuck you’re eating but it smelled like dog shit.”

He smiles to himself. Wryly. “What deli you stop at?”

“Shelsky's.” There’s pride in Steve’s voice. Arrogance in his posture. “I didn’t want to cheap out and settle for something worse.”

“That’s where I ordered from, you fucking snob.”

“Must’ve ordered something nasty then.”

A sarcastic hum of agreement and Bucky shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at the television as Steve flips through the channels in an attempt to find something more entertaining than the advertisements currently airing on Fox. “Why’re you really here?”

“It’s Thursday night,” he replies, using a keychain to pop the cap on a bottle of beer. “Titans are playing the Jags.”

“You don’t care about either of those teams.”

Steve drops his smile now. He scowls and settles back on Fox, unsatisfied. “Can’t a guy eat a sandwich, drink a beer, and watch a game with a friend without the third degree?”

“Couldn’t have done that with Sam?”

“I do a variation of this with Sam almost every night. Wanted to spend time with you today.”

“But—”

“Buck, for shit’s sake, let me be here for you without making us both live through me saying why.” He reaches forward to pull another beer from the carton, placing it in Bucky’s lap, and slouches back against the soft grey velvet. “And if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for that, too.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky asks, more rhetorical than expecting an answer.

There’s a pause as Bucky gazes at the television with practiced focus. His arms fold over his chest again. His knee bounces.

“She’s on a date,” he continues after the lull stretches for too long. “She was going to start dating eventually. I’m okay with it. Happy for her. T’Challa’s a good dude. Good looking, good soccer player. Smart. It’s nice. Good for her. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I’m happy for her.

“He actually came to the door. Didn’t text her to meet him downstairs, didn’t show up empty-handed. We both know how uncomfortable she is with actual romantic gestures and I guess he knows, too, because he gave her a Ziploc of peaches like she had in class the day they met. It’s nice. He’s a good dude. I’m happy for her.”

Through the thick silence that falls over them, Steve blinks. “Christ, you know you just spoke for a minute straight without taking a breath? I think you said ‘I’m happy for her’ thirteen times.”

Bucky’s inhale is loud and pointed, his exhale a huff. He’s no longer interested in eating the sandwich he’d ordered, suddenly full from all the leftovers he’d tucked into just minutes ago. All he wants is for Steve to leave.

Well. That’s not all he wants.

But it trumps his other desires. Momentarily.

“I know you’re happy for her,” Steve says as Bucky parts his lips to tell the former off. Bucky shuts his mouth now, though. And just listens as Steve’s voice grows softer, eyes no longer dancing in humor. “But I know you’re fuckin’ miserable, too.”

He knows there’s no point denying it. No point denying what’s so plainly written across his face.

But he tries anyway. “M’not miserable. I’m ha—”

“You can be both.” Steve, unwrapping the parchment from his sandwich, keeps his eyes on the television. “It’s possible to be happy for her but miserable at the idea of it all deep down. S’why I thought you might wanna move out.”

“She’d still go on dates if I’d moved out.”

“You wouldn’t have to watch her going on them.”

“I’m okay with her dating.”

“I’m okay with a lotta things, too. Doesn’t mean I wanna see it all happen in front of me.”

Bucky watches as Steve takes an impossibly large bite out of the sandwich, Russian dressing smearing over his lips. “I’ve got a date, too.”

“Buck,” Steve’s mouth is full. Horribly so. And Bucky scowls at the sound of his thick voice. “This ain’t a date. Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you. I just don’t feel that way about you, man.”

A sarcastic smile and even more dry laugh. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking about Connie.”

Steve scowls as he swallows. “That perky little brunette from the bar?”

“Perky?”

“I can just look at her and tell she was on her high school cheerleading squad.” Around another bite, he adds, “Seems nice enough, I guess.”

“She is nice.” He pauses only to mumble more to himself, “And emotionally available.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and briefly looks at Bucky in skepticism. “What, you determined that from just a few days of talking?”

“On the second day she told me she’s liked me since freshman year orientation.” He sighs your name then. Slowly. Laboriously. “She was somethin’ else entirely. You know how long it took her to admit she liked me?”

Steve nods upwards and flips the channel when the commentators on the pregame show begin to argue.

“Took her three months after we started dating to admit she liked me. And she never said it again after that.”

Steve drags the back of his hand over his lips, wiping off a bit of stray dressing. In visible disgust, he wipes his hand on the discarded butcher paper. “Some people show their feelings rather than say them.”

Bucky seems to smile at that. Unbeknownst to himself, there’s a slow grin spreading over his lips.

He thinks of instances. Instances when silence would act as a wall but actions a wrecking ball.

The morning after your third date when you’d tried your best— despite your absolute inability to cook— to make the breakfast he always orders at the diner in Astoria.

The eggs were runny in places, burnt in others and the bacon was traumatically floppy under a layer of not-even-close-to rendered fat and added oil. You’d apologized as he scrubbed the pan and plates, bright yellow dish rag waving as you insisted repeatedly that you couldn’t live if you’d given the guy you’d only just begun to date salmonella.

Independence day when you’d Irish-goodbyed from Steve’s birthday party only twenty minutes after arriving to steal away to the rooftop of Mama Wilson’s brownstone in Harlem.

You’d said something about fireworks and pizza, a six-pack of beer already snagged off the kitchen counter. Played it off as Sam’s idea, his house keys in the pocket of the navy blue bomber jacket you’d “borrowed” from Bucky. Nothing about Bucky’s hatred of parties at the Rogers-Wilson residence, though. Not even a hint until he overheard your apologies to Sam’s mother for the intrusion— an apology you later denied, kissing him silly to make him forget any further questions.

The week before you’d broken up— a week Bucky remembers less for the distance you’d successfully created— when you sought comfort in him after a long day.

Your boots had been kicked off by the door, your bag and its contents scattered beside them. You’d tearfully slurred words together, words he barely caught, in explanation. Something about work, and school, and your mother’s unnecessary opinions about your major and future. Something which forced sobs from your chest as you set your head against his. You’d wrapped your arms around him tightly, the two of you huddled together on his worn barcalounger as he stroked your hair and pressed kisses to the crown of your head.

It’s well after the game has ended— Steve vengefully chowing down on your once-hidden stash of This is for when I have my period chocolate, Bucky barely paying attention to the episode of The Office the two had resorted to watching— when you come home.

Hair mussed, lips swollen with gloss smudged every which way, you stumble through the doorway with a laughed, “No more rule-breaking on the first date, T’Challa.”

The door is shut and locked just as T’Challa begins to respond. You spin and press your back to it, still laughing but quietly, more to yourself. You open your mouth to greet Steve and Bucky, both looking at you in either confusion or amusement, but shut it as a knock at the door cuts you off.

“I’ll call you,” T’Challa promises through the wood. There’s a chuckle laced through his words, a smile in his voice.

Exaggeratedly, you scoff. Still grinning however. “Who calls?”

“I do,” he replies without concern that your neighbors may complain about his volume. “And you’re gonna pick up.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you are. ‘Night.”

You don’t respond beyond a hum and stand at the door until you’re sure he’s gone. A nod to yourself and you step away as you remove that navy blue bomber jacket to toss it onto the counter. You also toss a smile over your shoulder to Bucky. “You here just to eat my chocolate, Rogers?”

“No,” Steve says without a glance in your direction. “I ate your ice cream, too.”

You shut the freezer. Empty-handed. Frowning. “Your stomach’s just a bottomless pit, huh?”

“I’m a growing boy.”

“Have I told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you call your grown-ass self a boy?” you remark, settling for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. You pause before shutting the heavy steel door. “You clear out all the leftovers, too?”

Steve peers at Bucky, the latter stuck in a thoughtful, sad stare, and nods. “Yeah. We’re all out of food at my place and I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow night.”

You’re frowning in consideration as you walk to the barcalounger and fall into it sideways, legs swung over the opposite armrest you’ve set your back against. “Fair enough. How was your day, Buck?”

The question breaks him from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he blinks. Averts a steady gaze when you shift a bit to look at him. “The Jags won.”

You smile. It’s warm, a little honeyed. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neutral.” He can’t help but smile himself. It doesn’t even falter as he asks, “How was your date?”

A shrug. Your eyes narrow at Michael Scott as he attempts to toss pizza dough. “T’Challa got a large popcorn at the movies.”

“Damn, he’s got money.”

You laugh, startled. Bucky grins when you do, too. “That’s what I said! I also beat your high score at pinball in the theater arcade.”

“Went on a date with a guy who’s got money, beat my pinball score. You’ve just had a magical day, haven’t you?”

There’s a softness and affection in the way Bucky speaks and looks at you, your responding giggles just as sweet. Steve, sitting between the two of you, almost feels as if he’s intruding on something, an empathetic ache in his chest as he watches. “Explain the pinball thing.”

“Bucky and I went to the movies last month and fucked around the arcade while waiting for our showtime. And he got so competitive.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “We ended up missing the movie because he was determined to beat the high score this poor kid had just set when we got there. Took him hours and, like, forty bucks in tokens.”

“It didn’t take me hours.”

“We got there in the afternoon and by the time we left, the employees were cleaning the popcorn machines,” your expression and tone leave no room for argument. “Only took me two hours.”

Steve looks between you two, fighting the urge to scoff at the satisfaction in your eyes and the combination of annoyance and so much adoration in Bucky’s. “Two hours? You miss the movie again?”

“No, I snuck out before the movie ended. Said I had to pee and went straight to the machine so none of the kids in our auditorium could take it before I got there.” You ignore Steve’s disappointed gaze. “T’Challa was confused and probably unhappy I made him sit there for so long while I played.”

“Probably unhappy?”

“I didn’t ask.” A nonchalant shrug and you flash them a knowing smile. “Beating Bucky’s score was my priority so I could come in here and casually mention it like I’m not bragging only to bring it up everyday for the rest of his life.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and, at the look you’re giving him, Bucky has to remind himself that the two of you are no longer in a relationship and he can’t just kiss the arrogance away. “Sucker.”

—

It’s a makeup caboodle.

Pale pink and lime green. A tropical flower sticker pasted to the clasp. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle— deep magenta velvet in a neat bow.

It’s unassuming. A little innocent looking. Like it should belong to a seventh grader in the nineties just learning how to use glitter eyeshadow and lip balm palettes.

It’s when you pop it open, the mirror attachment springing up only to reflect Wanda’s skeptical features, that the pungent smell permeates throughout the kitchen and small living room. Skunky, but a little floral.

A speckled glass pipe, multicolored glaze splattered over a white base, sits in the top compartment alongside a few toothpicks and a package of rolling papers. In the compartment directly below rests a round steel grinder, three-tiered and emblazoned with the engravement of a manufacturer’s name.

The biggest compartment holds many small glass jars. Tiny mason jars you’d bought at a flea market. All different colors, all labeled with white circular stickers.

Wanda sits up in her stool at the sight, pulls the caboodle toward herself and sifts through the jars. She removes three of the jars and looks at you with widened eyes. “You’re insane.”

You shrug and take the grinder when she hands it to you. “I like being organized.”

“You should see her room,” Bucky says as he shuts his bedroom door behind him, shoes in hand. He smiles at the two of you, beard freshly trimmed to just barely above stubble and eyes a bright blue. “Most organized mess I’ve ever seen.”

You nod, tearing a bit of the sour diesel bud apart to place carefully between the metal teeth in the topmost chamber. You smile at her from your spot atop the counter, legs folded and back pressed against the shelves behind you. “There’s a method to my madness, Wan. Hand me a toothpick.”

She complies and removes a blue jar without a label. “What’s in this one?”

“Blue dream. Jar’s blue and I ran out of stickers.” There’s a click as the lid is magnetically snapped back onto the grinder. You twist it to the left twice, then to the right once. “You picking her up or meeting her there?”

Bucky, leant against the wall as he slips his shoes on, looks up. “What says ‘This is a real date, not a hookup’?”

“Going to dinner and not having sex after.”

He replies with a dry laugh and narrowed eyes. “Which of the two options— picking her up or meeting there— says that?”

“Picking her up.” You tear the stem off the bottom of the bud and place it as a barrier over the hole in the pipe’s bowl. “Might be too late to tell her that now, though.”

“Already told her I’d pick her up. I was just making sure I did the right thing.” You see his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk when you finish filling the bowl. “Looks like I did.”

You smile back, though sarcastically. “Girls like a little humility in the guys they date, you know.”

“She’s liked me for three years now,” he says. He pulls on a jacket and pats every pocket on him to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys. “She knows what she’s herself getting into.”

“Bucky, baby, I live with you and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.”

Wanda snorts a laugh at that, taking the pipe and a bright pink lighter from you.

Bucky’s eyes fall into a glare. “So normal first dates don’t end in sex?”

“No, they don’t. Most people actually wait until after the third date. It’s, like, in the dating manual for successful relationships.”

“Huh,” he breathes. He takes his phone when you remove it from the charger to pass it to him, smiling up at you. “Looks like we were doomed from the start.”

“Maybe.” You watch as Wanda exhales a steady stream of opaque smoke punctuated by a soft cough. You slide her bottle of water to her. “Or maybe we’re the exception to the rule. Apart, we should follow normal date conventions. But together, we were too hot to wait that long.”

Wanda hands you the pipe and lighter. “What happened to humility?”

Before sparking the lighter, you answer, “I’m not dating a girl.”

Your next inhale, once you’ve adequately charred the top layer of pot, burns in your throat and you hold it in your chest. You smile at Bucky when he shoots you a sly grin, lips in a cirlce as you exhale. “Have fun. Don’t order the tiramisu. They skimp on the espresso.”

He nods once and straightens his jacket. You watch as he unlocks the door, opens it, and steps through with a simple wave. Your eyes remain on the door even after it shuts.

It isn’t until Wanda’s fingers brush yours that you break your stare. “What?” the question is nearly barked when she offers you a look of something eerily similar pity.

“Nothing! You just— You look a little lovelorn.”

Your features crumple. “Ew. No, I don’t. I look amazing, you look lovelorn.”

“Okay, Queen of the land Defensiva,” she mutters once she’s exhaled. “I’m just saying. You were staring at that door like you want to take it home to meet your mother.”

“Maybe I do. It’s a nice color. I picked the yellow out myself.”

“Nat told me about that night at the bar. About how Bucky flirted with that Connie chick right in front of you.” She watches as you take a hit and your head lolls back against the shelves. “That must have sucked.”

“It did.” You trace the bumps on the ceiling and sigh. “But it’s okay. Larger picture, broad scheme of things. It’s okay.”

“What’s that mean?”

A shrug. You take a sip from your own bottle of water. “We’re both okay. We’re both moving on, we’re still able to be friends and roommates. I can sit here and watch him go on dates with her if that’s what it takes. A little pain for the larger cause.”

There’s a beat of silence as Wanda takes a long drag. You break it as you muse, “Do we talk about this shit too much?”

“Yeah, maybe. Should we order a pizza?”

CHAPTER 5: ARE YOU OVERCOMPENSATING?

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #a8c

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unclegarou · 4 years

Text

In honor of reaching over 100 followers, I present to you.... *drum roll*

Let Me Make It Up To You | Garou NSFW Scenario (Fem! XReader)

a few lines from my “What Garou Says During Relationship” are used below in bold

pleaseeeeee send feedback. if there is any grammatical errors or parts you did / did not like, let me know!

These past few days had been uneventful and tiresome, the same thing on your agenda every single day. Work, work, and work. Some times you craved for a thrill, the kind that prevented you from continuing that repetitive schedule, even for just a few hours.

It was nearing midnight when you finally broke away from the hot steam, a rush of cool air hitting your skin as you drew the shower curtains back. You’d been idly standing under the water for at least a hour, simply collecting your thoughts and rinsing away any bad odors. Your feet met with the tiled floor, leaving those annoying, wet puddles in your step. A clean towel was already hanging from the thin railing latched on the wall, which you quickly snatched up to dry the droplets of water rolling down your body.

There was nothing better than that relieved feeling after a long shower. It worked wonders for the pressures you've been enduring lately. Your hand swiped diagonally across the fogged mirror, revealing only half of your reflection. You contently stared at yourself, noticing the usual tiredness in your eyes starting to vanish.

You departed from the bathroom and into your messy closet, briskly digging around until you settled on an oversize t-shirt and a random pair of panties. You didn't have the energy to hassle with the clips of your bra so you decided to go without one, knowing it could wait till morning.

The night wasn't officially over until you turned off the remaining lights and checked if all doors were locked. You wandered through the house, visiting one room at a time until you were left with the kitchen. A cold breeze whipped past you, prompting a chain of goosebumps along your bare arms. Your head snapped over to the source, eyes landing squarely on the open window. How did that get open?

Just as you began to investigate, a pair of arms slithered around your waist. “Guess who?~”

Now, any sane person would have screamed at the top of their lungs, but this was a common occurrence for you. The presence looming behind you definitely belonged to Garou, his alluring voice sounding all too familiar. You peeled away from his hold and whirled around to face him, but his insanely built chest was the first to appear in your line of sight. You craned your neck just to get a glimpse of his face, which pretty much looked the same, but unlike before, his aura was practically screaming trouble. As much as you hated to admit it, you were in awe, “What are you doing here?”

Luckily, Garou wasn't paying you any mind, his eyes too occupied with traveling around the kitchen. “I'm hungry.”, He stepped past you and headed for the refrigerator, “What’s for dinner?”

After an entire month of no communication or surprise visits, he was back, and without the apology or explanation you deserved. Both of your hands firmly rested upon your hips, doing their best not to wrap around his neck and strangle him, “Garou, its almost 12 o'clock.”

“So?”, Garou answered plainly, closing the fridge and switching to the cabinets, his perfect height keeping him face to face with each built-in space. You watched in disbelief, a part of you wondering how he could be so casual like he didn't go MIA for weeks, but also admiring the muscles that seemed to flex so deliciously under that tight, long-sleeved shirt.

You slowly exhaled from your nose, “Sooo, stop going through my stuff.”

Despite your efforts to hide it, Garou could easily sense the irritation in your tone. He briefly paused his search to glance in your direction, “What's with the attitude? I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

Your hands reluctantly slid down from your hips. Of course you were happy to see him. It was impossible to forget all the times he popped up at your house just to talk, the conversations ranging from trivial matters to current problems with the rise of monsters and heroes. He was the only guy that made you feel the happiest during the lonesome days of your life. Not to mention the suggestive flirting and ‘accidental’ touches.

But he went and disappeared, unannounced and without a trace.

The memory struck a nerve, instantly bringing you back to your hostile behavior. “I already left you and everything we did in the past.”, you declared confidently, even though half of it was lie.

Garou didn't have a response this time, he only stared at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. This obviously wasn't how he was excepting you to react, he blinked dumbfoundedly. You shifted uncomfortably, thinking maybe you went too far, until you noticed his eyes weren't on your face anymore, but your chest instead. Thanks to the open window from earlier, your nipples were poking underneath your shirt, in perfect view for Garou to see. Your arms shot up to cover your chest, “Hey! Keep your eyes on my face, pervert.” The fact that you were barely clothed completely flew over your head since you were so irritated with his calm demeanor.

“Pervert?”, He laughed at your flustered face, smugly leaving his spot by the cabinets to stand directly in front of you. He leaned down to your level, an amused smirk playing on his face. “It’s not like I haven’t seen em’ before.”

All sensible thoughts were abandoning your mind, the only thing you could do was conceal your erect nipples embarrassingly. Being so close rendered a good view of the hunger in his eyes. Another laugh filled the room, “Oh right, that was in the past.” Your discomfort didn’t make him back away, instead he inched closer, this time right next to your ear, “Do you need me to remind you?”

It didn't take long for his words to send a wave of excitement between your legs, a sensation you'd long forgotten ever since he left. Just when you thought you had the situation under control for once, he managed to spin it around in his favor. You turned your back to him, “No, I don't want to remember so just leave.”

Garou remained close behind you, the distance separating your bodies was very slim, “You know you don't mean that.”, he teased, unfazed by your threat, “Stop being a damn baby and let me make it up to you.”, his arms encircled your torso for the second time today, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be letting you go.

“What do you mean—”, your words fell short at the pair of lips that connected with the crook of your neck. It was a gentle kiss against your skin, a little alarming at first but delicate enough to make you relax. He lingered there for a moment before trailing kisses up to your jawline. Your eyelids slid shut, a blissful gasp escaping your mouth. Seeing as you didn't try to run off, he took it a step further and nibbled at sensitive areas he memorized from previous interactions.

Garou knew you had no intention of rejecting his advances, but he still decided to test the waters. His warm tongue playfully darted out to lick the shell of your ear. The way your back shivered against his chest was more than enough answer, yet he still preferred to tease you anyway, “If you want me to stop just say it.”, his hands were now underneath your shirt, rubbing at your sides affectionately.

This may be your only chance to finally break free his spell, kick him out of your life forever and move on, but the more you thought of that outcome, the more it seemed to bring you pain. There was no way you could tell him to stop now, especially since he's got you all hot and bothered.

Just as he expected, you didn't put up much of a fight, “Mh, that’s what I thought.” There was no turning back now, he had you right where he wanted. Those large pair of hands roamed straight up to your breast, eagerly groping them however they pleased. The nipples you were desperately trying to hide before were softly pinched between his thumb and finger. You whimpered shyly, gradually submitting to his temptations and giving him all the access he needed.

Garou pulled your shirt off in one quick motion and twirled your body around to face him. He lifted you up by your thighs, effortlessly settling them around his waist. Garou charged at your lips, his tongue forcibly invading your mouth. You matched his enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperately pulling him closer and deeper. He backed you up against a nearby wall, his hips grazing between your legs ever so slightly, allowing you to feel his hard length, but only for a moment. He was starting to tease you again. You impatiently reached down to palm his clothed dick, which was clinging tightly against his pants, begging to be let free.

Garou detached himself from your lips, “Not yet, I want to focus on you first.”, he grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head. There was no room for protest as he reclaimed your lips again, kissing you more fiercely than before. It seems he was serious about making up for lost time. No matter how relaxed and unbothered he appeared to be, Garou completely understood that you were hurt by his abrupt absence, and this was his way of saying sorry.

Using his other free hand, he drifted between your thighs and pressed against your damp panties. His fingers caressed the material so close to your throbbing pussy, nearly driving you insane, “Please, Garou.” His ears perked up at your whimpering, instantly falling in love with the sound. He easily tore apart the piece of fabric and discarded them on the floor. Taking his middle and index finger, he plunged into your slick entrance just as you asked. Your back arched, a delighted moan falling from lips. But your satisfaction was short-lived as he pumped in and out of you at a terribly slow pace. Not only were your wrist imprisoned in his grip, but he was mischievously watching each of your needy reactions.

“Do you forgive me now?”, Garou catered to your neglected breast, kissing and biting around the areola while curling his fingers inside your tight walls. You vigorously nodded your head, unable to speak, but it still wasn't enough for him. “I don't think you do.”, his thumb rubbed against your clit, stirring up more pleasure in the pit of your stomach, “How about now?”

The wild combination was enough to make you use your words, “Yes, Yes, Yes, I f-forgive you.” His slender fingers were striking spots you never knew about. It felt so good you found yourself grinding against his fingers, moaning helplessly. The intimate moments you shared before felt nothing like this, it was like you were living deep within ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back, a sudden thirst overpowering you, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck.”, Garou grunted, he thought he could hold himself back earlier but now he was at his limit. Distracting himself by attacking your swollen lips just wasn't working anymore. He released your wrist from his grasp and went to rub his painfully hard dick. “Look at me.”, his fingers picked up their momentum, reviving you from your dazed state and right into his possessive stare. By the way your walls were fastening around fingers, you were near your orgasm. He sinked further inside you, “Cum.”

Just as he commanded, your creamy, white liquids were flowing down his hand, which was hungrily licked up as soon as you finished. The upper half of your body limply fell against his chest, trembling frantically. It was obvious that you were exhausted, but he knew very little about aftercare, only allowing your body to calm down for a second before letting you down from his hold. “Garou.”, you whined, legs still wobbling and breath uneven, but it was too late, he had already dropped the pants that were irritatingly restricting his dick. A little precum was dripping from the tip, “Turn around, I'm not done yet.” Garou was fully engulfed with lust, it was evident in the way he looked at you.

With the little energy you had left, you did as you were told, hands flat on wall and body bent over. He didn't waste another second, firmly gripping your hips and thrusting right into your pussy. You sucked in a deep breath, his length stretched you out way more than his fingers, and you wondered why he just didn't start with it from the beginning. Your knees began to buckle at his harsh pounding. He continuously pulled you down his length, keeping his eyes trained on your back, loving it’s perfect arch. Your cries of pleasure was like music to his ears. “Whats my name?”, he growled.

You moaned hoarsely, “Garou.”

Of course he pretended like he didn't hear, “Say it. Louder.”, his pace never faltered as his dick rammed deeper inside you with each thrust. Your hands were sliding down the wall now, unable to keep up with his stamina. You were quivering all over, a sign that another orgasm was threatening to release, the feeling was overwhelmingly good. “Garou!”, you violently came again, adding onto the liquids that were already trickling down your legs. Garou pulled out of you soon after, his hot seed splattering all over your back.

If you had been in the right state of mind, you would've scolded him, but right now you just needed to rest. Garou wasn't panting as harshly as you were, only a few droplets of sweat ran down his forehead. You were the only one who could barely stand, the wall being your only support.

This was the time where Garou was supposed to say something meaningful and go run you a bath, but he just stood and admired his work, a sense of pride rushing through him, “You look so pretty like that—”

“Wait, Garou.”, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, instantly recognizing the erotic tone in his voice, “Let me take a break first!”

He grinned cheekily, already reaching for you with greedy hands, “Come on, one more round won't hurt.”

#garou #one punch man garou #one punch man #opm #opm garou #garou x reader #one punch man x reader

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