#i need to be alone every thursday for the rest of my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whxre-bxby · 1 year

Note

May I request mansk smut. I barely see anyone write for him and he just needs some love 😭😭. Just some sweet love making for him and the reader 💕

YES MISS GURL HERE WE GO BITCHES

"Late Night Feels"

Mansk (recom/Na’vi) x Y/N (recom/Na’vi f.)

Summary: During a game night with a few recoms, you can’t help but notice Mansk’s lingering eyes. When you confront him about it he gets shy before confessing and the man is whipped. After his heartfelt confession, you can’t keep your composure anymore and you both go to his room.

WARNINGS: SMUT, Fluff (so freakin cute), swear words, praise-kink (Mansk), f. Oral receiving, penetration, Mansk whimpering (yesss), breeding kink, mating

Masterlist

Word count: 9421

The recom team had built many new routines since being brought back to life on Pandora. One of them started when neither of us could fall asleep because our bodies felt so foreign to us. We were able to play it off during the day in front of everyone, but once we were left alone, most of us couldn’t stand it.

I was having a second life crisis, almost breaking down in front of my mirror. To calm down, I needed to leave the confined space that was meant to serve as a room.

I ended up in the cafeteria/kitchen for the recoms, holding a glass of water and staring into nothingness.

Mansk was the first to enter the kitchen after me. My presence startled him a little but we were both so out of it I didn’t even notice anyone walk in. He also got himself a glass of water and that was when Lyle walked in. Following him came Zdinarsk and then Ja. That was the group. The others seemed to have fallen asleep normally.

We cleared the air by agreeing that we were extremely uncomfortable, but no one wanted to talk about it including me. So instead of talking, Lyle suggested we play cards to get our minds off of things. No one had anything better to do, so we agreed.

That’s how the routine of a weekly game night started. Every Thursday, we would meet after curfew in the diner by the kitchen and play cards around a table. It lightened the mood and definitely helped.

Today was a Thursday. The lights had all been turned off and everyone had gone to their rooms. The only people awake were the human soldiers assigned night watch and they were on the other side of the facility.

I smiled, feeling a little calmer now that I knew I could go play cards and not have to sleep.

As usual, I walked through the empty corridors and into the cafeteria. Ja and Mansk were already there and were currently pushing the tables together. I greeted them, getting the stack of cards from beneath the counter and grabbing a chair to sit by the table. Within a few minutes, Lyle and Z-Dog had arrived.

Now, we were all sitting in a circle, with one light on in the corner as we played. The game had been going on for about an hour and we were still having fun. I was getting slightly tired and Ja had yawned next to me so I wasn’t the only one.

“How ‘bout one last round and then we call it a night?” Ja suggested, taking everyone’s cards and shuffling them.

“Hopefully Lyle won’t lose again.” Z teases and I chuckle, taking a sip from my glass. Mansk smiles to himself before staring down at his hands. He’s sitting opposite me.

“No need to worry. I’m feelin’ this round. It’s my time now, people.” Lyle assures with a grin, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

“Whatever you say.” Ja returns the grin, passing out a new round of cards to everyone again.

We played and guess what? Lyle did in fact not win. Nor did he even get anywhere close to it.

I placed my cards in the middle with a smile, showing that I won. All the others had gotten rid of their cards already and it was just Lyle and me. Lyle was still holding at least seven.

He huffed, throwing his cards to the middle in defeat.

“You guys are cheatin’. Ja’s shufflin’ it wrong.” Lyle argues and I bite my lip to contain laughter. Ja looks almost offended.

“That’s 5 losses in a row.” Mansk says and I nod, while my grin widens. Z-Dog is pressing her fist over her mouth to cover her smile but Lyle sees us.

“Okay, quit laughin'. I’ll beat you both now.” Lyle adds, taking his new set of cards and looking at them.

“How about we play until Lyle doesn’t lose?” I suggest and Z laughs while Lyle huffs in annoyance.

“Sounds good.” Ja adds, leaning back on his chair.

“Okay, then this is the last round.” Lyle states, building up a confident attitude to beat the game. Mansk looks up at me and we exchange looks, questioning Lyle’s words but we suppress laughter to not upset him.

I think you know what’s coming.

Let me ease your mind and inform you, that that was indeed not the last round we played.

The game went on for another good 30-40 minutes, with Lyle refusing to speak after each loss of a round. Ja would quietly shuffle while we exchanged mocking looks. Lyle wasn’t having it.

Finally, Lyle hadn’t won first but had not lost.

The rounds before where he lost would have been a little boring if it wouldn’t have been for one person in particular.

Sitting across from me were lingering eyes belonging to Mansk. He wasn’t wearing his signature shades and I caught him looking at me a few times. The looks were harmless and innocent, yet I felt like there was more to them.

I wondered what had caught his eye because I was definitely not wearing anything impressive. I had a loose and oversized t-shirt on, which I slept in and some comfortable shorts that had pockets which I loved.

I wasn’t wearing a bra and my hair was messy. It wasn’t the first time I hadn’t worn a bra around them. Z also wasn’t because we were about to head to bed anyway. Except for today, my shirt was grey and not black so I guess my chest was more visible. But he wasn’t the type of guy to rudely stare so I don’t think that was it.

Anyway, Z-Dog was holding the last cards and thereby lost while Lyle celebrated in her face. She was annoyed she lost to him and said goodnight before walking off. I was smiling to myself as he followed her down the hallway, repeating how easy it was to beat her and how she made a mistake. As if he hadn’t lost the last 10 rounds in a game he most likely made up and even suggested in the first place.

Ja yawned again, rolling his shoulders and finishing his water before walking towards the hallway.

“See you tomorrow guys. Was fun with you.” he said and I smiled.

“Good night.”

With that Ja left while I still sat at the table with Mansk. I finished my water while he put the deck of cards back into their box.

Seeing all the empty glasses around the table I sighed and pushed my chair back. Getting up, I collected the glasses and carried them to the sink, leaving Mansk behind at the table.

Of course, Lyle had been drinking some sweet juice and not water so his glass had stained red. I turned on the tap and started washing up.

Behind me, Mansk had noticed my actions and wanted to help out. He returned the chairs to their original spots and pulled the tables back apart before slowly walking to me.

He stopped, observing you from a small distance. He had been trying to not get caught up in his thoughts while playing but it was difficult with you looking this good to him. He knew you wouldn’t understand if he told you, but he loved how you looked right now. To be honest, he always liked the way you looked but right now, it was the best he’s seen yet.

The way the huge t-shirt draped from your smaller figure almost covering your shorts and riding up slightly there where your tail was had him mesmerised. Your loose and let down hair which was finally for once not restricted and pulled back in a ponytail or any other hairdo you did with your braid and hair made him unable to stop staring.

You looked so comfortable and real to him. In military uniform and during training, he found you intimidating and would choose to not approach you. Now, you looked like you had finally let your guard down and were more welcoming to him. That's why he looked forward to game nights. He looked forward to seeing you as you were. Not the tough girl that sometimes even scared him. Don’t get him wrong, he always thought you looked hot, even when training or fighting. But he felt as though he could not talk to you then. Now, with the others around and during games, it was easier and you seemed nicer.

I felt his presence behind me and I brushed it off for a good 10 seconds until it started distracting me from washing up properly.

Glancing behind me, I see Mansk comfortably standing and watching me. When he sees me turn my head around, he quickly turns away and places the stack of cards back underneath the counter that I got them from.

I return my gaze to the cups and smile to myself, loving the effect I had on him. It was a surprise when I noticed how Mansk would get intimidated by me, but I decided to have some fun with him.

Luckily, he didn’t walk away. Mansk walked up next to me, picking up a glass and helping me wash up.

“Oh it’s okay, I had that.” I say, not wanting him to feel pressured into helping me. A small and faint smile stretches across his face.

“I’m not gonna just leave you here to clean up after everyone.” he replied, his voice a little hoarse but nevertheless soft and kind.

“How about just watching me instead, huh?” I tease him, grinning and nudging his side with my hip while my tail flicks in his direction. In contrast, his tail stops comfortably swaying and his ears lean back a little.

I notice his tenseness and look up at him, the grin turning into a smile.

He’s blushing, but I won’t point it out just yet. There’s more I can do.

I finish washing the cups and Lyle’s sticky glass, placing them on the bottom of the sink. Mansk is still rubbing away at his glass like he was a few minutes ago.

“I think it’s clean.” I speak up, seeming to pull him out of his thoughts. He opens his mouth to say something but I’m already pulling the glass from his grasp and placing it to the others. Mansk doesn’t stop me.

“Can you pass me the towel?” I ask and he glances at me, his ears perking before looking to his side. It seems to take him a while to process what I said, so I nudge him a little.

“Please?” I give him innocent doe eyes and his ears perk forward even more, his eyes staring down into my own.

“Y- yeah, sure.” he replies, trying to pull himself together and he hands me the towel.

“Thanks.” I say, taking a glass and drying it. With the second glass I take out, I turn around, with my back facing the sink while I lean against it and stare into the open and dark cafeteria.

Mansk reaches for another towel, takes a glass and continues helping me dry them in silence.

“If Lyle doesn’t start winning, we’re gonna have to come up with a new game.” I chuckle, trying to ease the atmosphere for him because I could tell he felt awkward even though he was quite good at hiding it.

“Yeah.” Mansk smirks, dropping his head a little and chuckling. “Ja knows a few. It won’t get boring.”

“It wouldn’t get boring anyway.” I say, hinting at his previous lingering eyes. He doesn’t quite catch up, or maybe he does and he tries to avoid that conversation.

“It wouldn’t? With Lyle always losin’?” he asks, glancing at me. I smirk, putting the previous glass away and grabbing a new one.

“Nah. You kept it interesting.”

I can see from the corner of my eye how his tail stills again and his body tenses. Our body language is much clearer now as Na’vi and he has become easy for me to read.

He doesn’t reply but I hear him swallow.

“Was there something on my shirt?” I ask, continuing to push it, knowing damn well my shirt had little to do with his staring. I wanted to fluster him and have him stutter until he was forced to confess everything.

“Uh- no. No your shirts fine.” he starts to talk, stumbling over his words. His voice is unsure and he doesn’t seem to know what to say. “I, uhm-”

Even through his deep voice, one could still tell he was nervous. I loved it.

Mansk also always spoke clearly and used minimal words. To have him fucking stutter is amazing.

“Oh shit, is it see-through?” I gasp, pretending to panic and he does too.

“No- No no it’s not.” he says, turning to me and I bite my lip, giggling.

He realises I’m messing with him and turns back to face the room in silence. Yep, he’s embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I just find it funny that I can tease you.” I say, unable to hide my grin. He smiles but his ears are strained back. A nervous smile perhaps?

I press myself against his side, knowing the initiated body contact will frustrate him.

“You need to loosen up, Mansk.” I say, all innocent again while I caress his leg with my tail. He doesn’t move, he just stays still. I can hear how quickly his heart is beating, even through his unsteady breaths.

“Aw, come on. What is it?” I say, playing stupid and nudging his side. “You don’t like me? I can leave if you want?”

He scoffs a little. Not in a rude way, but to himself.

“Of course I like you, it’s not that.” he speaks and I smile again, putting the cup down and facing him.

“What is it then?”

A minute of silence passes before he speaks up again.

“I don’t know what you mean.” he says, but clearly he is suppressing something.

“Do I make you nervous?” I ask, looking up at him and his eyes shoot to me, hinting at panic. Bingo.

“Is it because I’m not wearing a bra? Was that why you were looking earlier?” I tease, knowing it's not the reason.

He grimaced at the thought of you thinking he was looking at you only because your chest wasn’t covered with a double layer like usual. Mansk was admiring all of you before and would never want you to think of him rudely checking you out.

“No.” he states, almost whispering. His voice got caught in his throat.

“No? You don’t like my chest?” I ask, faking those wide innocent eyes again. His gaze returns to me and he opens his mouth to answer but no words come out. I watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows nervously and there I have my answer. His response makes me grin and he knows he fucked up.

“I wasn’t lookin’ because of that.” Mansk says, seeming almost irritated. I don’t say anything, I only glance at him again, waiting for him to elaborate.

He’s looking down but my silence makes him glance back at me too. He had to keep talking now.

“I just- think… you know. You look nice.” he says, his voice fading into a mumble. His words take me by slight surprise.

“I look nice?” I ask, chuckling a little. A small wave of panic flows through me when I realise my reaction might discourage him but luckily it doesn’t.

“Yeah. You look comfortable. It’s beautiful.” he pushes the words out and they electrify my heart, sending waves through my body that kill all the tiredness.

“Fuck, now you’re making me feel special.” I giggle, clutching my face in my hands and letting them slide down. The next time I look up, he is already looking at me again.

“Tell me more,” I beg him, wanting to hear everything that’s on his mind.

He looks surprised. As if he were expecting me to walk away after he said that. Mansk listens.

“You don’t look as… badass, like you do when training.” he says and my own ears perk up. What does that mean?

I questionably look up at him, wondering whether this was becoming insulting or cute.

“Which I don’t mind.” he saves it, quickly. “You look amazing when you train. Fuck. But I’d never be able to talk to you like this.” Mansk seems to be forgetting he’s confessing his deepest secret and is focusing on making sure I understand without feeling uncomfortable.

“You think I look good?” I ask, staring deeply into the empty room.

“More than just good. Fuckin’ angel.” he mumbles, looking like he wants to retreat into himself because he’s said too much. He looks down, slightly turned away from me.

“God, you’re making this hard for me.” I chuckle and he glances back at me, confused. Mansk looks worried as if he made a mistake.

“I wanted to tease you more but now you have me fucking blushing.” I say and his ears perk all the way up. His worry fades when he realises that I am indeed blushing. And his eyes widen and almost sparkle when he reminds himself that it's because of him.

“You look even prettier.” he mumbles.

“Stop. This is not how the tables were meant to turn.” I talk over him, making him smile.

“Hm.” Mansk mumbles, putting the things down and turning away to leave.

“Where are you going?” I ask, wondering why the conversation was ending at the best part.

“It’s late, I thought you wanted to go sleep early today?” he answers, stopping in his steps and turning around.

Does he really think I’ve been playing with him just for kicks this whole time?

“Late my ass. I’m not done with you.” I say. He had put the towels back and just stared at me with curious wide eyes. His lips were slightly parted too. This was the cutest and most attractive man ever.

“You think I tease you for no reason?” I ask, quickly putting the glass down and grabbing his hand. He lets me lead him away from the sink and out of the room. Even though he’s much taller and could easily resist, he lets me pull him away.

“Where are you goin’?” he asks, seeming a little hesitant. More confused and self-conscious. He didn’t know whether he had done something wrong and if he had he would never forgive himself.

I curse. “Of course, they put the women’s rooms on the other side of the fucking facility.”

Mansk watches my every move intently. In the back of his mind, he can imagine what the best-case scenario would be but he knows that there is no way that will happen so he doesn’t question it.

“Where’s your room?” I ask and he looks at me as if he’s seen a ghost.

“What?”

“You heard me. Come on.” I say, smiling at his shocked face. “Unless you don’t want this. Then I can go.”

Mansk can’t believe his ears. Want this? The man has needed this for the past month or two. But he doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up in case you aren’t thinking of the same thing. He treasures the talks he has with you and he would never risk losing that.

“Don’t want what?” he asks.

“Mansk, I need you. Right now. If you want to fuck, tell me where your room is and let’s do something about it.”

He gulps, his eyes just staring at me as his mind goes blank. That was it, Mansk was blown away and officially couldn’t believe the events unfolding before him.

“Hm?” I ask, spurring him on because I was getting a little more desperate than I wanted to be.

“207…” he whispers. Realising his voice is gone he clears his throat and tries to keep himself composed.

I nod, turning around and walking us there. Luckily it was close, much closer than my room. We arrive at his door and I stand there, looking at him to unlock it but Mansk is once again just gazing at me.

“Keys.” I say, becoming impatient. Every time I looked at him I felt my body become hotter.

“Really?” he slowly asks, his ears perking forward, giving me all his attention.

“Really what?” I ask, trying to figure out what he’s going on about.

“You want me?” His voice is so soft and the way he unsurely says it melts me. It seems as though he is still a little worried I’m messing with him again and that his feelings will be hurt. This huge bulky man in front of me suddenly seems like this tiny, fragile, cuddly bear. His hand is resting in the pocket of his sweats as his slightly slumping posture no longer shines the intimidating energy it does when he wears his uniform and shades.

“Mansk, you are the reason I go to those goddamn game nights.” I start explaining, catching on to him feeling unsure about himself. He needs reassurance and I get that. A year ago I would have too.

“You think I’d be going just to see Lyle lose his shit every time. I mean it can be nice but you make it better.”

His face lights up and the doubt is slowly being washed away. The man can’t believe what he’s hearing. He lifts his dropped head to meet my eyes.

“You happen to also look absolutely fucking amazing and this new tank top you’re wearing is really doing it for me. So if you would kindly open this door-”

I’m cut off by Mansk hastily getting his keys from the pocket of his sweats, which have to my delight started to strain and swiftly unlocking the door. He effortlessly pushes it wide open and extends his hand out to let me go inside first.

“Thank you.” I whisper but it's barely audible.

The little gesture makes my heart flutter and I step inside. He walks in after me, flicking the light on and kicking the door closed.

I quickly scan the room before turning back around to face him. He’s thrown his keys onto his nightstand and his eyes met mine. Again, Mansk didn’t want to be pushy and initiate the contact in case I had changed my mind. But god, had he been longing for your touch for so long.

I sighed, knowing I was down bad for him. My no romance in the workplace rule was long gone right now.

I take a step towards him so that he is closer to me. He is still a head taller so he peers down as I extend my arm and cup his cheek to pull him down to me.

“Kiss me.” I whisper. The words make Mansk think he’s in heaven.

Mansk more than happily obliges, shivering from excitement at the touch of you on his cheek. Our lips are just inches apart as we share breaths for a few seconds before both of us can’t stand it and our lips finally meet.

I relish in the moment while Mansk’s mind is getting blurry from the wonderland he is in.

The kiss deepens and I wrap my arms around his neck. Finally, he feels more confident and one of his hands holds the back of my head, right under my braid, while the other slides down my waist.

I notice how he keeps it on my waist and my waist only, not sliding down below my hips. His respect and politeness amaze me and I add it to the list of things I love about him, but right now it needs to change.

I slide my palm up his arm, gently holding his hand before pushing it down further.

Mansk’s ears perk up and he inhales shakily through his nose when I put his hand down on my ass.

I pull away while doing this to see his reaction and make sure I’m not overstepping any boundaries. His wide eyes meet mine again and I watch how his pupils expand the longer he looks at me.

I give him a small smile, to reassure him but also because I couldn’t hold him back. I felt so happy being around him and that he liked me this way made me want to scream and jump around.

His large hands on me made me feel safe. Even though I knew I was capable of protecting myself, this felt nice. Better than nice in fact. I was in heaven too.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, his eyes flickering between mine slowly. My own eyes widened at his comment and my breath got caught in my chest. He really meant it, I could see that he did. I’ve never felt this appreciated and it made me feel a little emotional in fact. I wanted to return the feeling to him and make him feel as good as possible because I started to realise that he meant so much to me.

Without further hesitation, I slowly leaned in again, letting my eyes flutter closed. Mansk watched me with heart eyes, closing his own eyes and drowning in euphoria from the feeling of our lips meeting once again.

I press my body against his this time, wrapping my arms around his neck while one hand runs over the back of his head. In the process, I sway my hips forward and against his abdomen, feeling what I could only hope and anticipate was his erection.

Mansk groaned into the kiss and I felt him shiver again. Seeing him be so responsive to my touch had me craving to hear more from him.

I let one of my arms drift down from his neck and run along his strong shoulders. I was never able to identify my exact type but feeling his muscles really had an effect on me. His almost extreme strength was amazing to me and the fact that he rarely used it to its full extent made it that much better.

I flatten my palm out while Mansk deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue past my lips. I gasp but push myself further into him, letting him know I loved it. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

His one hand was still gently resting on my ass while the other pulled me further into him by my lower waist. Our tails flicked around behind us uncontrollably and subconsciously showing our excitement. Snitches.

I ran my palm down his bulky chest, feeling his muscles and the texture of his tank top. I fumbled with his dog tag, wrapping my hand around it and bringing him down closer to me by gently pulling at it.

He responded by holding my body even closer as if he never planned on letting go.

I then let my hand drop and dipped my fingers underneath his top, feeling his warm and bare skin beneath. He sighed at the feeling and we pulled away, both almost gasping for air.

I gripped the hem of my shirt and peeled it off, pulling it over my head. Mansk saw my movement and quickly followed, throwing his tank top to the side.

When his eyes met me they changed from being half-lidded to opening wider again. It only now occurred to him that I was half-naked before him and he was clearly having a hard time not being polite. Mansk looked away and I could see how nervous and worked up he was.

I giggled, putting my own top over a chair in his room before taking a few steps to him again. He slowly looked at me, keeping his eyes firmly on my face and not letting his gaze falter. His expression makes me smile.

“You can look, you know?” I say softly, watching his ears twitch at my words. “I’m yours if you want me to be.”

Mansk’s breath got caught in his throat and I saw how flushed he was, trying his best not to fold in front of me. Slowly, he let his eyes drift from my face to my lips, then my neck, bare collarbones and finally to my chest.

His lips parted as he shakily exhaled and stared at me in awe. I never had anyone look at me like that before.

Another small sigh left his lips while he was still processing the fact that this was happening to him. You trusted him enough and wanted him enough to be in his room like this with him.

I take a step towards him, my own gaze faltering as I admire his bare, sculpted torso.

My hand raises and Mansk is brought out of his little dream by my touch. I rest my palm on his chest, slowly tracing it over the patterns on his skin and down his abs, to his v-line.

I look up, redoing the same thing but this time feeling his shoulders too.

“You’re so pretty…” I whisper, not thinking about my words. They just slip out.

Mansk was speechless, watching your hand travel over his torso. You liked the way he looked? He knew he didn’t look bad, he just thought it was regular for the military and especially now for Na’vi. But you liked it. You liked him. It’s official now, the man is whipped for you.

I grin, loving his innocent and gentle reactions.

Slowly, I apply pressure on his chest and push him backwards. Mansk takes a few steps in the direction I need him to and within seconds, the back of his knees hit the frame of his bed and he is forced to sit down.

I stay standing in front of him and lean down to give him another kiss, before pulling away again. He leans forward, chasing my lips, not wanting to end the contact.

A smile forms on my lips as I find his begging eyes once more. They shoot down to my hands and abdomen once he realises I’m pulling my shorts and panties down.

Mansk inhales sharply as I step out of the last bits of clothing I have on and just watches me in admiration. I happen to also notice how almost painfully strained his sweatpants have become.

“You look like an angel…” he softly says, his eyes scanning and taking all of me in. I scoff, unable to handle all the compliments.

“I want to make you feel good.” I whisper, climbing onto him. Mansk smiles at my reaction and leans back a little to give me space. I sit on his lap with a leg on either side of his and wrap my arms loosely around his neck again.

He keeps looking at me while having his hands firmly placed on the bed.

“You can touch me too.” I grin, biting my lips and he lets out a soft chuckle, feeling a little embarrassed that he keeps getting caught staring.

His hands gently caress my waist and thighs and one confidently moves down to my ass.

He squeezes my cheek and I sigh, letting my eyes close for a split second. Knowing he’s getting a reaction from me, Mansk feels more confident to touch more of me.

His right-hand pushes a few strands of hair over my shoulder and then slowly drifts down to my chest. He watches my reaction for any sign of discomfort but he doesn’t get it and soon he is caressing and massaging my breasts. I sigh again in pleasure, letting my head slightly fall forward, almost landing on his shoulder.

Mansk can’t stop himself from melting into me and he pulls me closer, letting his head drop to the crook of my neck, gently kissing the skin while his hot breath sends butterflies to my stomach.

I trace the muscles on his back with my hand while the other holds onto his shoulder. My tail caresses his leg while his own one repeatedly thuds against the mattress in happiness and excitement.

As mentioned, Mansk is in heaven and he lets himself finally relax completely against me.

His face leans down in between my breasts and both his hands wrap around my waist, hugging me and pulling my closer to him. I respond by cradling his head and holding him, feeling how my touch-starved state is finally being cured.

We just relish in each other's touch for a few minutes, our hands tracing up and down the other's body before I slowly pull away and support his head when he lifts it up. My palm cradles his flushed cheek as we lock eyes again.

“What do you want?” I ask him, wanting to give him whatever I can. “I’ll do it.” I say, and I see how his eyes light up. He must be thinking of something.

“Just tell me and I can help you.” I whisper, kissing his cheek before moving down and gently biting his neck.

Mansk whimpers when I nibble at the skin of his neck and it makes my stomach twist with more excitement. I hold his head again, peppering kisses to the area.

I look up at him again and he takes another deep, shaky breath.

“Please tell me. I want to make you feel good.” I say and it seems to affect him.

Mansk is surprised by your words. He wanted to worship your body and here you were, offering him the same. You were too good to be true, but he wanted to please you before you even got started with making him feel good. There was something he had been longing of doing for the past months he had you on his mind.

We locked eyes again and he looked away before I made him look at me again.

“Sit on my face.” he whispered and I froze, replaying the words in my head. That’s what he wanted?

“Please.” he breathed out. That’s all the confirmation I needed.

“Yes, baby.” I reply and he shivers at the name I gave him. Slowly, I push him back so that he is laying beneath me. I lean down to give him a kiss of appreciation before I move up his body, eventually hovering over his head. The mattress dipped around his head as he watched me get in position.

Once again, the man's eyes were wide and his pupils were blown. He lifted his hands up, gently resting them on my hips as I found my stability.

Mansk’s eyes were fixated on my bare heat for a few good long seconds before his gaze flickered up and met mine again.

I wasn’t sure exactly how to do this and I didn’t want to hurt him. He seemed to catch on to my uneasiness.

“Y/N, let me make you feel good.” he says, sounding a little desperate. His breath is uneven while his hands try to slowly pull my hips down.

“But that’s what-”

"Please.” he breathes out again. I now notice his glossy, begging eyes and it makes me gulp. All I can do is nod and when he starts pulling me down on him, I don’t stop him.

I’m hovering right above his face and I gasp when my core makes contact with his nose. He leans his head up and I feel his tongue swipe up between my folds.

I gasp, biting my lip while staring down at him. This was completely new to me.

Before he can continue, Mansk wraps his arms fully around my thighs, tugging me further down one last time before locking me in.

I am almost literally sitting on his face now and Mansk can’t stop himself from digging in. His tongue works wonders, circling my clit before licking all around it and then teasing my entrance.

When I feel him do the last thing I whimper, letting my head drop forwards and leaning on my arms in front of me. Holy shit. My breathing becomes ragged.

Soon enough, Mansk starts devouring me like a starved man and I’m completely losing it. I’ve become a panting mess, having to bite down on my fist to not make any extremely loud noises. It feels so amazing my thighs start to quiver around his head.

Suddenly, Mansk circles my entrance and then pushes the tip of his tongue into me.

“Holy fu-” I swear, inhaling sharply while arching my back. I push myself up, leaning back and steadying my hands behind me on his bare torso.

Mansk doesn’t stop and I notice how his tail almost starts to wag when he hears the noise I made.

I can feel my orgasm approaching and my mouth drops open as I try to keep my composure.

“Mansk-” I whine out and he groans into me when he hears his name. “I’m so close…”

I try to suppress it, just to make this moment last a little longer but suddenly I feel light waves of vibrations beneath me, going straight to my core. I especially feel them on my hands that are resting behind me, on his bare chest.

Mansk started fucking purring while comfortingly stroking my thighs and that was all it took for me to lose my mind.

“Mansk! Oh my god.” I moan, my words gradually becoming less audible. He tightens his grip on me, completely locking my lower body down so that I literally can’t move or lift my hips off of him. He continues to tongue fuck me, riding out my orgasm while my legs shake and my vision becomes blurry for a few good seconds.

I lean forward, my mouth gaping open while my tail tightly curls around one of his arms.

Once I’ve finally come down a little, Mansk continues to lick me but he is a whole lot gentler now. His hands loosen, and slowly drift down my waist, giving me the opportunity to sit up.

I lift myself off of him, leaning forward and lifting a leg over his head so that I was now sitting next to him.

My face was now flushed too and I was a panting mess, my ears slightly drooped to the sides.

Mansk sat up, turning to his side to face me. He had a prideful grin on his face which made me smile. One of his hands found mine and he held it, making my heart flutter.

I watched him lick his glistening lips and my eyes widened. He was amazing.

“How was that?” he asked. I would have expected it to be said in a teasing manner but it seemed like a genuine question.

“You made my vision go blank for a few seconds.” I gasp, unable to hold back a small laugh. “Holy shit, my legs are still shaking.”

His grin returns and he smiles to himself. This was by far the best moment on Pandora for him.

I notice the tent in his crotch area and make it my mission to have him as fucked out as me.

Steadily, I move over to him, straddling his waist again. His grin slowly fades when he watches my movements in a lust-drunk haze. His erection was becoming a little painful for Mansk but he would ignore it if you told him to. He would eat you out for hours if you asked and quite literally do basically anything for you right now.

I settle on his waist and go to touch him but Mansk gently stops me. I lock eyes with him a wave of worry floods me when I see how hesitant he looks. Maybe I did something wrong or took it too far.

“Y/N?” he softly asks, his eyes looking sad.

“Yes?” I answer, my voice hinting to worry.

“I really like you…” he says, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. I just listen, knowing there is more to come.

“I really don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” Mansk adds. He was worried I was just using him to get off.

“Mansk, I want you. No one else… just you.” I say, watching his ears twitch and noting every little reaction. “If you want me too, this will definitely not be the only time we do this.”

He seems a little relieved but not quite fully.

“Do you feel the same way?” he asks, and I wonder for a few seconds. “I mean, romantically. Not just through attraction.”

“Yes.” I whisper, letting my tail caress his leg. “Mansk, I think I love you.”

His eyes light up at the words. He can’t believe it.

“I love you more.” he whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to mine.

“Not possible.” I add, smiling. My heart is racing and I just want to litter kisses all over him.

“Let me take care of you now.” I whisper, moving my face close to his. He exhales a shaky breath in response, his eyes not leaving mine.

I press our lips together, unable to get enough of him. The taste of me is still lingering on his lips and something about it turns me on even more.

I run my hand down the back of his head before feeling all over his toned torso. My kisses move from his lips to his jaw, before giving attention to the other side of his neck. His heavy breath is fanning against my shoulder and he buries his hot face in the crook of my neck.

My hands slide down, tracing over his v-line and running along the waistband of his pants, making him shiver.

Mansk lets his eyes flutter closed as he focuses on feeling my fingertips caress his skin and near the place he needs me so desperately.

I tuck my fingertips below the waistband and move back slightly to look at him.

“Can I?” I ask, wanting to make sure he was okay with this.

“Fuck yes.” he breathes out and his answer makes me smile.

Slowly, I start to tug his pants down and he leans down on his arms which are on either side of him and lifts his hips up along with me on them. I pull the pants down and let them fall behind me, down his ankles where he kicks them off.

Mansk sighs in relief as his dick is freed from its previous restraints.

I don’t move, staring down between our bodies with parted lips and I feel my mouth start salivating. He was bigger than I would have ever imagined. I’m saying his dick stood up to almost the same height as my stomach.

Mansk notices and his ears droop a little in embarrassment. Good embarrassment. His face was flushed again and he looked mesmerising.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you’re such a beautiful boy.” I say, cupping his cheek and loving his shy reaction. My praise made his heartbeat speed up and it warmed his heart.

The big stone-cold giant had found someone who brought his heart to life.

I reach down in between our bodies, tracing down his now bare abdomen before gently wrapping my hand around the base of his throbbing member. Mansk shudders at the contact, trying to contain his excitement.

I bite my lip, gently stroking him a few times just to test the waters.

Mansk’s shoulders relaxed and his lips parted at the feeling, but his tail was going wild.

I want to show him how much I love him so I start peppering kisses to his shoulder, collarbone and then chest. He sighs in pleasure, letting his head drop forwards again while I keep a slow pace.

I grip his bicep to hold myself against him, my head now resting on his shoulder as I slightly tighten my fist around him and speed up the pace just a tiny bit.

Mansk presses his forehead into my neck, panting against my warm skin. I rub my thumb over his sensitive tip, which I now notice is leaking a few beads of precum and Mansk whimpers, closing his eyes again.

Hearing him make that noise had my stomach twisting in excitement and made me feel needy all over again.

I lean forwards, readjusting myself on his lap when my braid falls over my shoulder. Mansk saw it from the corner of his eye and lifted his head to look. We were both still getting used to our new bodies and that included handling a long piece of braided hair with a nerve cord in it.

Seeing it seemed to spark the same idea in him as it did in me. We knew now how Na’vi connected themselves with Eywa and the creatures of Pandora. They used their queue. It was also roughly known that the same was done for mating between two Na’vi.

Mansk looked up at me and I stared back, thinking about it for a while.

I picked up the end of my braid, examining my hair and then Mansk slowly reached behind him and pulled his braid over his shoulder.

My eyes shot to his one and we exchanged eye contact in silence for a few seconds.

“Do you want to…?” Mansk asks, whispering this time.

I smile. “Mhm.”

“I’m not sure exactly how-”

“It’s fine, I read the manual.” I confirm, knowing most of the team just skipped through the files before we were reborn. The files informing us about our new bodies.

He smiles. Of course, I read it.

I pinch the end of my queue, revealing the nerve strands that move around like tentacles, searching for a source to connect to.

Mansk mirrors my movements, doing the same with his queue. We watch them for a few moments before he brings his closer to mine.

I do the same and we watch as the strands find each other, entangling in one another and forming one strong cord which glows with white light.

We lock eyes and our pupils subtract before blowing wide again as we feel electricity shoot through our bodies. The feeling is slightly overwhelming and it feels like we just gained new senses but I can now feel him and vice versa.

I hold on to him to steady myself and we both breathe through it before Mansk presses his lips to mine. I immediately kiss him back, feeling twice as turned on now.

I shift my hips closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him close to me. Mansk lets his hands roam my naked body, running them up and down my slightly arched back before attaching one to my breast.

I purr against him, breaking the kiss and rubbing my cheek against his. I’ve never needed to be so close to someone before.

He bucks his hips up, desperately needing to feel some friction or touch and I help him out.

My hand wraps around his shaft again while our formed tsaheylu strand hangs between us.

Mansk inhales sharply and I lift myself up a little, to line him up with my now-aching pussy.

He watches, holding his breath as I rub his tip between my folds, covering it in slick. His hands grip my hips, not pushing me down, but just needing to grab onto something.

Slowly, I ease myself onto him, my hand grasping his shoulder as I close my eyes and focus. Mansk lets out a ragged breath, watching my movement with half-lidded eyes.

I let myself sink down about halfway, taking a few deep breaths just to get used to his size. My body seemed to be extra sensitive and all my senses were activated.

I move up, leaving just his tip inside me before sinking all the way down and bottoming out. Mansk is biting his lip to try and suppress his noises but a whine still leaves him. I gasp, leaning my weight on him. Already, I felt overstimulated.

“You feel so good…” he whispers, his voice hinting to how needy he feels.

“Fuck, sorry. Give me a minute.” I answer, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Don’t fuckin’ apologise. I’d wait for hours if you need me to.” he breathily answers, pulling me against his chest and wrapping his hands around me.

His answer goes straight to my heart and I want to fucking smother him in kisses. “God I love you so much.” I say, kissing him again. The kiss is sloppy because we’re both a little overwhelmed but it feels so good.

After a few moments, I roll my hips making Mansk break the kiss and gasp slightly. I do it a few more times and watch him unfold before me. All tension and stress left his body and he let his head drop into the crook of my neck again.

“Holy fuck-” he mumbles against my skin as I continue my movements.

Then I lift myself up a little again, before lowering myself down. This time it felt more like a thrust because we were both covered in wetness and precum and I got used to his size which hit my cervix every time I bottomed out.

Mansk hisses, his ears flattening back.

Soon, I managed to keep a regular pace and Mansk supported me by lifting my hips with me. One of his hands slid down my hips, gripping my ass before digging into the flesh between my thigh and ass.

“So good.” I mumble, my eyes fluttering closed as I slowly get lost in the feeling. I notice Mansk’s pinned back ears perk up for a second before returning to their previous position. The man lives for praise.

I try to speed it up a little but this whole situation has me overwhelmed and I’m still so sensitive from my last orgasm, my legs starts shaking and giving out. Mansk notices and helps me still my movements.

“You okay?” he asks and I nod, breathing heavily.

“Sorry, I-”

I’m cut off by Mansk lifting me off of him and laying me down on his bed, while our queue’s stay connected. I stare up at him as he turns and climbs on top of me, smirking. Oh, this man was going to be the death of me.

“No apologies.” he whispers, reminding me of his previous words. I gulp, my eyes not leaving his and I nod.

“Let me help.” he whispers, his gruffy voice sounding a little hoarse.

Mansk presses a soft kiss to my cheek, gently pushing my legs open before he lays his hips between them.

He aligns himself with me again before slowly pushing all the way in. Both of us sigh in relief and then Mansk reaches for my hand. He interlocks our fingers before placing our intertwined hand next to my head and leaning against it.

My eyes find his again and he looks at me for permission to move. I nod eagerly and almost instantly, Mansk pulls out and sets the same pace I had before.

I feel a pressure build up in my stomach and I desperately need him to continue so I envelop him in my legs, wrapping them around his hips and pulling him in even further.

“Fuck, yes. Just like that.” I moan, dropping my head back and gripping his shoulder with my free hand.

His eyes widen and he feels almost feral when he hears those words. The fact that he is the one making you feel this good and no one else makes Mansk feel prideful. He was worried you were into Ja, or worse, maybe even Lyle. But all Mansk’s worries were gone because you were in his room, naked on his bed, whimpering and moaning his name while being bonded through tsaheylu with him. This is more than he would even ask for.

“Don’t stop.” I whimpered and he nodded, completely under the spell of lust.

“Yes ma’am.” he whispered and I smiled. It was cute the way he wanted my validation. I liked having such an effect so easily on such a huge man. After all, he was a marine too and followed orders.

I felt my need grow in my core, making my pussy clench ever so slightly around Mansk with every thrust.

The feeling had him over the moon. His eyes were fluttering closed every now and then, always flicking to your face to be met with the wonderful sight of your pleasure flushed expression. Not that he was doing better. Mansk had been down bad since you got here.

“Y/N,” he whimpered, his head dropping down while he continued to role and rut his hips into me. “I’m close…”

“Me too, me too.” I whine, cupping his cheek in comfort while my nails slowly dug into the skin of his back. “It’s okay, keep going.” I add, needing to feel the release again. Mansk seemed desperate for it too.

He sped up his pace just a little and now every thrust felt like pure heaven. His movements became a little sloppy now, indicating he really was close.

“You’re doing so well.” I whine between clenched teeth and he moans in repsonse, slowly losing his mind.

His eyes shoot to mine and I nod, pulling him closer by my arms and legs. Mansk deeply thrusts into me and I come undone. My eyes roll to the back of my head and my mouth drops open while my pussy clenches around him. Mansk thrives between my trembling legs and pushes himself as deep into me as possible before releasing his load. I moan his name over and over again as I feel my body shake and my vision black out for a few seconds. The warmth of his cum feels like heaven to me it makes me lock my legs around him.

Heavy breathing and panting fill the room and I see Mansk’s arms tremble. I pull him down, letting him know it’s okay to lay on me and he follows my movements, gently lowering himself down onto me.

I cradle his head while my other arm halfway wraps around his back. His face is once again buried in the crook of my neck and I press my cheek against his, absolutely thriving with the warmth of his body.

Mansk wraps his arms under my waist, hugging me while still being buried deep inside me.

We stay like that for a few minutes, regaining our breath and enjoying the other’s company and body.

Our tsaheylu’s disconnected and fell apart which Mansk felt. He looked at them before meeting my gaze, the scene reminding him of something.

“Please stay…” he whispers, while giving me the softest puppy eyes ever. I wasn’t going to say no, but now I definitely couldn’t.

“Of course.” I smile, blinking through my teary eyes from the orgasm. “I don’t want to leave.”

“You don’t ever have to.” he replies, smiling at me. I giggle, running my hand through the hair on his head before he kisses me again and carefully rolls off my body. Surprisingly, he manages to stay inside me and doesn’t pull out.

He pulls me onto him this time, so we’re laying chest to chest and I look up at him while resting my chin on his torso.

“Is it okay if we stay like this?” he asks me, rubbing his thumb against my cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I lean into his touch, adjusting myself to get comfortable.

“Yes please.” I answer with a soft chuckle, not wanting to lose the feeling of him inside me. Somehow it was comforting and I’ve never felt better or safer in my life. Being in his arms was the safest place I could be.

“I want to be close to you.” he says, nuzzling his face against the top of my head and I smile again.

“I love you.” I blurt out, wanting to remind him of that because this is definitely the best thing that has happened to me in fucking ages.

His ears perk forwards and the words and he smiles, letting them droop to the sides.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” he says, squeezing me and making me laugh.

We exchange a few more words before Mansk covers us both in his blanket and leans over to turn the light off.

His arms stay wrapped around me and I fall asleep tracing the specks of light and the patterns in his skin.

Tag list : @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 5 months

Text

the boys as bodyguards

dedicated to absolutely no one. sure this is an asks blog - does that mean i have to actually answer them? i know i know bad admins bad admins whatcha gonna do whatcha gonna do when they come for you but i had a dream ages ago now that involved bodyguards, tsunamis, and also a shit ton of murder. don't ask. anyway, it got me pondering. and then it took literal months to write this so i figured i'd post what i've got so far, and maybe i'll update with the rest of the boys later, depending on how well this does/how much time i have

hanamiya makoto

hanamiya’s the package deal

he’s the chief advisor; he’s the doctor; he’s the bodyguard; he’s the sniper. just a right hand man in every way possible.

i mean, he’s not literally your right hand man: he’s the leader of a team, and often it’ll be one of his men there next to you at events, but he’s always supervising or coordinating or collecting intel

ie he’s dedicated to his job. he does like engineering spider’s webs after all.

having said that, he’s also an uncontrollable prick

he’s the best at giving you advice, both in terms of navigating high society and in terms of actual business advice, but is he going to give that advice without slipping in a snide comment about how you should really know all this by now? when you tell him to make sure to take a break some time, is he going to stop himself from saying “maybe if you weren’t so incredibly useless on your own, i’d be able to.”

and sure maybe he’s breaking the universal declaration of human rights with what he does to the people who dare to try harm you, but you don’t know about that

need to know basis type beat

you don’t even have access to the full floor plans of your own property, which includes a basement you’ll never know about, let alone step foot in. hanamiya keeps that information very close to his chest.

gotta make sure his employer has plausable deniability

gotta make double sure that you don’t find out about half the things he does - from the ways he sources his information, to his very dodgy organised crime links, to the number of people that have sadly lost their lives in the name of “fuck it, you’re pissing me off” - because he hates when you bang on about bullshit like “laws” and “morals”

after all, if everyone followed your beloved laws and morals, then you’d have no need for his services

as he always tells you, he’s just your pet necessary evil

yamazaki hiroshi

i reckon he only got into the bodyguard business because he spent his childhood wanting to be a samurai but, well you know, that’s not really a job opportunity anymore

what it does mean though is that he’s all about bushido: mastering his work, bravery, honesty, etc - and above all else loyalty to one’s employer

on a random thursday afternoon, he’ll tell you, completely nonchalantly, straight face, “i would die for you if that’s what it takes. on my life, i’ll always keep you safe.”

you’re staring at him like wtf and/or trying to stop yourself blushing, but he thinks that’s a completely normal thing to say cause he’s just following bushido

of course, late one night, he’ll wake up realise how weird that came across and he’ll spend the next week trying not to blush whenever you talk to him

just like the time he spent a week kicking himself after you walked in on him training, shirtless and rather sweaty, and when you told him he should take a break, he said “but i need to train so my body can be at its best for you”

again, at the time that sounded very reasonable, serious, and totally bushido to him. it’s only later that he’s freaking out in his room like why in god’s name did he say that.

but hey that’s bodyguard!yamazaki for you. a little weird, a little socially inept, but loyal to a fault

haizaki shougo

can you imagine the number of jobs that this man has lost for sleeping on the job?

he’s only got his current gig looking after you because his prices are cheaper and you were getting desperate to find someone in your budget

he’s a ...uhh… unique bodyguard? in the sense that he’ll get you out of harms way eventually, but "eventually" is the key word there

haizaki actively ignores intel that a certain location might be dangerous, because he really just wants to get into fights. sure you might get in the way occasionally, maybe even get some nasty bruises, but hey you get what you pay for.

you want a good bodyguard, save up some money, idiot.

literally the only reason he got into being a bodyguard is so he can beat people up legally (and because he got dishourably discharged from the military); he doesn’t care that much about the whole ‘protecting’ side of things

he’s also the type to ditch you the minute a better paying job comes up (possibly combat work as a mercenary). however he’s not as cold-hearted as he may seem, and he’ll happily spend a day of leave breaking into your penthouse

so that when you return in the evening, he’s there sat on an armchair, grinning smugly, “man your security’s turned to shit since i left.”

shortly followed by, “miss me?”

jason silver

jason’s the quintessential bodyguard, cause, after all, having a very muscular 6’11 man follow you everywhere you go isn’t exactly subtle

but he’s recognisable for other reasons as well.

like the fact that he’ll accompany you to formal balls, and he’ll be the only man there with an undone tie - it’s such a massive argument trying to get him to wear an appropriate suit instead of his usual hoodies and sweatpants, that can anyone blame you for not having the energy to insist he stops undoing his tie as well?

he’s also not exactly one for professionality. like you’ll be minding your business, trying to network, and suddenly you’ll hear a wolf whistle by your ear and a “wouldn’t mind me a bit of that”

“jason, that’s the ambassador to norway. we’re having her over for dinner next week, so, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. and whisper next time, for heaven’s sake! what if someone had heard you?”

“shit, is it a crime to like some nice tits in this economy?”

and when you glare at him, genuinely furious, he grins, puts his hands up, and says, “sorry, sorry. forgot you don’t like me having eyes for anyone else, boss.”

but don’t get me wrong, jason’s not all evil contra to fujimaki’s propaganda

he is an incredibly good bodyguard - those animal instincts really help him out when it comes to getting you out of a sniper’s line of sight, or saving you from a bullet, or just assessing a room for potential entry points. and he packs a mean punch if anyone tries to try something on you, a solid ko.

no one’s getting past him essentially

the only problem is that it’s incredibly difficult to thank jason for saving your life, cause the last thing he needs is an ego boost or feeling like you owe him.

“seriously jason. i don’t know how i can ever repay you.”

“usually the payslip’s enough,” he smirks, “but you know that little lady ambassador-“

unsuprisingly, he’s not invited to the dinner.

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callofdooty69 · 3 months

Text

thought of this idea and wanted to share╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

MAJOR CW !!: 🪦🕊️ do not eat, daddy issues, implied abuse (not between reader and ghost !!), fluff, angst, death, PTSD, panic attacks, anxiety, talk of alcohol, guilt, grief, profanity, usage of y/n, f!reader, attachment issues, abandonment issues, not proof read, super long post (PLEASE let me know if there are any warnings/tags i missed !!!)

in NO way shape or form am i trying to glamorize daddy issues/the topics in this. i am incredibly sorry if it’s taken that way because that is most certainly not my intention. if i’ve offended anyone by writing this than PLEASE let me know. i want to keep everyone safe, and don’t forget to take care of yourself. my anons and messages are always open if you need help or someone to talk to ♡

(this is inspired by daddy issues - the neighborhood if you couldn’t tell)

i know that you got daddy issues ☆♪

ghost x y/n

****

it’s not fair.

why, of all people, did this have to happen to you? you did nothing to deserve this. you always heard stories of abuse survivors that came from toxic households, but you never thought it would happen to you. you would never, under any circumstances, want or allow this to happen to anyone else. so why did no one help you? you relied on the people you loved and trusted, but they did nothing to stop it from happening.

living in an abusive environment was never supposed to become your life. coming from a happy family with a loving mother and father was your norm, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. until it happened. until the event that sparked the rest of your life’s struggles occurred on a random thursday.

when you were fifteen, your mother passed away. you were the one that picked up the phone that night. you were the one that asked her to go to the stupid school fair and pick up your missing assignments because you were sick and couldn’t go to your classes. hell became your life the minute you heard the news. that a drunk driver ran into her.

she was dead on impact.

the guilt haunted you. sitting at the funeral, sobbing over her casket, you couldn’t help but think that this was your fault. it shouldn’t have been her.

you couldn’t even count on your fingers the amount of days you missed from school. you almost got held back if it weren’t for your previous grades and attendance record. you went weeks without showering, and when you did you just sat on the floor, letting the hot water pellets hit your back until it was red and almost bleeding. you could barely eat, let alone sleep. you couldn’t remember the last time you slept comfortably, nightmares consuming your brain every night.

your father coped through alcohol. he didn’t know any other way, going to the bar was the only time when he could escape reality, even for just one moment.

your birthday was two months before it happened. you wanted to start driving as soon as you could and got your permit right away. that definitely came in clutch when you had to pick up your dad at least three times a week, one of your family friends calling and saying he was wasted again. the abuse started shortly after, going from yelling to genuine physical pain.

you bolted from your house as soon as you turned eighteen, driving as far as you could to escape the home that brought you gallons of tears and misery. you got a job soon after leaving, starting as a fast food worker to waiting tables at local restaurants. at one point, you had to pick up four jobs to just pay for basic materials to sleep in your car.

after a few years, you were diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder. you weren’t surprised, somehow relieved that you got it off your chest and just talked to someone. medication flowed through your veins shortly afterwards, easing the pain and guilt just enough to live.

you were doing well for yourself in your early twenties, renting a decent sized apartment and working as a bartender for a big restaurant in the city. even with the trauma from the alcohol addiction your father developed, you were strangely comfortable around it. anytime a conflict would arise, your coworkers would handle it, vaguely knowing your experience with violence and confrontation.

you lost contact with everyone from your old life; your deadbeat father, the “friends” that did nothing to support you, the councilors that couldn’t take the fucking hint. everyone.

then you met simon. he came in one night with his colleagues, celebrating for some kind of special occasion. a few of them came up and ordered drinks, but simon only sat down and stayed silent. it’s like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. it was weird, but not in a bad way.

as he came to the restaurant more often, you two sparked up conversations when he sat down at the bar. starting with small talk here and there to discussing random bullshit for hours on end. he knew you had to do your job, so he let you serve the other customers of course. it was strange to him, how he could get so comfortable with someone so fast. but you seemed different. you were trustworthy and safe. a security blanket he didn’t have growing up.

you eventually got into a relationship with him, finally feeling happy. your nightmares and guilt still remained in your thoughts, images and flashbacks of what caused you internal and external wounds that you didn’t think could heal controlling your mind. you were hesitant in opening up to him, as was he. but you confided in one another, slowly opening up the gates you both spent years building. you went to him when you needed him, and he did the same to you. you learned everything about each other, learning your pasts and showing vulnerable scars you didn’t think you’d have anyone to share them with. he’s home. your each other’s safe haven.

****

after a long shift at work with no sleep, you went home to find simon not there. he was usually off of work by now and should have been back for at least an hour. you immediately thought of the worst case scenario, thinking he was in trouble or that something happened. you panicked, unsure of what to do, calling and texting him to no avail.

you paced around the apartment you two now shared, your breathing getting harder and more difficult and seeing fuzzy spots in your vision. you sat down on your floor, knees pulled into your chest and hands covering your ears, trying to drown out the hallucinations and flashbacks of trauma. nothing seemed to be working, you gave up on calling simon after the seventeenth dial of his number.

it felt like your skin was on fire, uncontrollably sobbing and hyperventilating. you didn’t know what you were going to do, all you knew was that you needed simon. you didn’t know what you would do without him in your life, he was all you had.

you were so caught up in the swirling emotions and thoughts going in and out of your head that you didn’t hear the door open, boots hitting the floor and keys jingling as they hit the marble counter. when simon turned the corner and walked into the dining room, he didn’t hear you or see you anywhere. he expected to walk in and see you eating dinner, binge watching a show like you always did. but you weren’t.

he called your name, looking for you. “y/n? are ya’ here, love?” that was when he heard faint crying coming from the living room. he rushed to the noise, only to find you breaking down on the floor. he ran towards you, sliding right in front of you and frantically looking around.

he knew in these moments it was difficult to see what you were comfortable with. from touching you and hugging to giving you space, he wasn’t sure what you needed in the moment. based off the fact that this was probably the worst panic attack he had ever seen you have, he knew you definitely didn’t need space.

he lightly touched your arm, pulling back when you jumped. simon reached for your hand guiding it away from your face for you to see him. that he was there. he was home, and safe. you looked up, terrified of what you might see. that your father was in front of you, or watching your young self pick up the phone. but when you saw simon, sitting across from you and worry on his face, you clung onto him like he was water and you were dying of thirst.

he held you tight, cradling your head and pulling you into his lap to make it more comfortable for the both of you. he swayed softly, rubbing circles on your back as you sobbed into his arms and softly whispering reassuring words in your ear.

when your breathing slowed and your sobs gradually wore down, he gently lifted your face from his chest and saw your bloodshot eyes and mascara running down your cheeks, the dried tears forming marks through you face and the wet spots on your shirt from where you were crying. it broke his heart to see you like this. to see his baby girl like this.

he moved the hand on the back of your head to rub your cheek, softly wiping away the makeup that stuck to your skin. he kissed you on your forehead, then your temple, and all down your face until he gently kissed your lips, reminding you that he was safe. that you were safe. that everything was going to be okay. with your face close, he whispered “what happened, love?”

you told him how worried you were. how you thought he was in danger, that you tried calling and messaging him but he wasn’t answering. “i’m so sorry baby girl, my phone died. i was just on my way to the store to pick up some chocolate for you. but i’m home. we’re safe, everythin’ is gonna be okay.”

you cried again, leaning your forehead against his and just feeling him. touching him in these moments was all you wanted, to have reassurance that he was there. that he was real. he always managed to pull you away from your dark thoughts, to be there for you and give you want you needed.

you explained the flashbacks you were having, the voices you heard, all while simon rubbed his hands on your back and made random shapes with his fingers up and down your spine. he listened to you silently, letting you speak without interruption. when you finished, he planted kisses on your face, gently kissing your lips. it was intimate, but not in a sexual way. it was vulnerable intimacy, calming intimacy.

you laid there for a moment, hugging one another and holding each other tightly but softly. simon’s back was hurting and his legs were starting to cramp up, but he didn’t care. as long as could take care of his baby girl and hold her until she felt safe, he was okay.

“ya’ wanna go to bed love? i’ll grab some tissues to wipe off your mascara n’ tickle you all night if ya’ want.” he smiled as you giggled and nodded your head. lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom, he slowly sat you down on the bed. “i’ll be right back, okay?” you smiled at him and whispered a small “okay” as he want to grab the makeup wipes.

he sat there for what felt like hours, rubbing your face and telling you all the things he loves about you. your hair, your smile, your cute nose, your contagious laugh, everything. when he was done, he kissed you and leaned his forehead against yours. “how ya’ feelin’ now? better?” you nodded and mumbled a small “yes,” saying “you know what would make this even better?” he hummed as he kissed your temple. “cuddling with you.”

“well, that is somethin’ that can definitely be arranged,” he smirked and rolled you around as you laughed. facing you towards him, he rubbed his calloused hand on your soft cheek, staring into your eyes like they held the galaxy in them.

your eyes fluttered, half lidded and a small smile on your face. simon placed one last kiss on your forehead, whispering “goodnight, love. everythin’ is gonna be alright.”

with that, all of your troubles washed away. the only thing that mattered in that moment was him, holding you like you were his world. because you were, you were each other’s safe space. you taught one another how to love, how to be vulnerable, how to learn that you were cared about.

things were going to be okay, as long as you had simon with you.

****

how we feeling about this? ngl i cried a bit while writing it. should i make more angst and/or fluff content on here? let me know, and (as always) feel free to leave anons/comments╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

- 𝓀.𝒿

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blushcoloreddreams · 7 months

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How to do your laundry 101

Taking care of your laundry is one of those mundane tasks you’ll need to deal with for the rest of your life so might as well learn to do it well and enjoy it. So this is my routine and top tips I gathered since living alone

Sort throughout the week (everyday). Every day I separate my dirty clothes on my hamper into darks and lights on another other side. Before taking them to laundry machine I always check my rewear drawer for any dirty clothes. I usually run 1- 2 cycles in the days I do it, totaling around 4 a week since the apartment building I currently live in has a shared laundry room and I can’t got the machines all for myself but if you have your own, feel free to do it all in one go. First cycle is for every day light or white everyday clothing, second to everyday dark or colored clothes. Cycle 3 for towels and bedding which I’ll run with a normal cycle with hot water to ensure they get a deep hygienic cleaning from body oills, lotions and any lingering bacteria. Cycle 4 is for cleaning cloths / bath mats that. And maybe an extra “cycle”, more often than not, done by hand for any delicate pieces, special fabrics or depending on the dirtiness level, that should be washed on a delicate mode. This regime is more intuitively than definitive, sometimes I’ll merge darks and lights together on a cold cycle specially if they are not heavily dirty. Separations is done to prevent colored clothing to bleeding to lighter clothing but this is mostly a concern for any new clothes with deep coloring like indigo, died denim and reds so be sure to wash them separately on the first few times.

Set a time for that. I usually do it Tuesday nights and Thursday morning but you might need to do it more often if you got a bigger family, the important thing is to turn it into a routine and not a dreadful task

Dress comfortably cute - I like to put my hair up in a claw clip to get it out of my face when cleaning and so it doesn’t touch anything It shouldn’t. Dressing up a bit always help you romanize what you are doing and feel better about yourself. (Also I’d hate to meet a neighbor in pajamas haha)

Learn how to treat stains - for blood hydrogen peroxide, apply it directly to the stain, spray some water to keep it hydrated and let it there for 10-15 min and throw it in the laundry preferably on cold water. For oil stains I use baking soda and dish detergent, splotch out any excess oil then sprinkle some baking soda to absorb the oil, I’ll let it sit overnight and the next morning I’ll scrub with dish detergent to help breakdown the oils and I’ll put it into laundry in a hot cycle. For all common stains like ketchup, almond butter coffee berries, vinegar and ink first gently take any excess with a paper towel. For any grease food stains I’ll also add a bit of dish deteargent. If the stain is fresh you only need to treat it with oxygen bleach and water and wait for about 15 min but honestly I often only take care of then on the end of the day or the week and that’s why I rely on the soak method a lot specially for these tough stains.I’ll fill a bin or clean sink with hot water and oxygen bleach and let it soak every night, after it just rinse and add it to the wash cycle and if the stain remains don’t put it into the dryer or it can permanently set the stain.

Read the clothing tag whenever you get new clothes to get familiar with the fabric. I usually check it with a care label guide I found on Pinterest.

Choose the right detergent for you. I prefer powder since it’s more concentrated and work as well as liquid ones. And usually I just add a bit of fabric softer since I’m not allergic

Less is more, you don’t need to use the whole pack to clean it better. Excess laundry detergent can not fully dissolve and form excess studs which won’t get rinsed away properly, and makes it harder for the clothes to create the traction needed to wash the dirt off. 2 table spoons per full load is what seems to work for me.

Flip the clothes inside out. The inside of your garment is usually the dirtiest since it comes in contact with your skin and sweat and it also protect the ink from graphic tees. Also flip the pockets inside out to check any items that shouldn’t go in the wash

Use a mesh bag for delicates like bras and lace garments to protect them pilling or tangling with other items in the load

Choose the right settings for the washing. There are usually 3 settings, cottons, delicates and permanent press. Delicates is the most gentle, cotton the most intense. 99% of the time I choose cottons on a normal cycle unless I’m washing delicates that are machine washable. I prefer cold water to prevent shrinking and color fading

Tidy and clean between cycles. The avarage washing cycle is 15 min to an hour while the drying is 30 min -45 min so while you are already in the spirit you can use this time to tidy up around the home.

Don’t forget about the wet laundry so it doesn’t smell weird. If it does add a sprinkle of baking soda and run the cycle again on the hottest Setting

Remove lint from the lint trap in the dryer to avoid if from getting back from the clothes.

Air dry delicates. I use a rack and I lay the garments as flat as I can to prevent the fibers from stretching. I use it for any athletic wear, delicates max rayons or things the label recommends to do so

Tune in while folding the clothes. Sometimes I like to listen to a podcast, audiobook or YouTube video to make it more fun and keep me engaged

#personal #home & lifestyle #home making #femininity #personal development #laundry #cleaning #organization #homemaking

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kankuroplease · 5 months

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I saw the art of Madara with baby Tsunade, and it's so cute!! You are cool! I'm now interested in reading about the possible almost familial interactions between Tsunade and Madara (and possibly the other Uchiha as well, but that's entirely up to you) in this au, if you have time to write it. Would Tsuna wish Madara a happy Father's Day just to poke fun at the old man?

Also, I wish you a good day as one of my most favorite naruto artists. :)

Thank you!

Madara and Tsunade have the oddest relationship in the TSAU, I love it. He’s like a guidance counselor, Disneyland dad, over protective big brother all rolled in one 😆

let’s review her Uchiha relationships

Madara

From the moment he found out Hashirama would be a father, he was supportive in only the way Madara can be; told him to get the fuck over the shock.

It’s not like he’d leave his dumbass to struggle alone with a baby. The kid would be doomed with just Hashirama and his stick in the mud brother.

Madara wasn’t at all shocked that the girl Hashirama knocked up skipped town after the baby’s birth, but he was shocked that she literally left the baby on Hashi’s doorstep. So he played fairy godfather and sold a few questionable things to help pay for some basic necessities for little Tsunade.

He did not want to hold her. Holding babies is scary and he didn’t feel suited for something so delicate. But he didn’t really have a choice when Hashirama plopped a pillow in his lap and Mito forced placed the ash blonde baby in his arms

Turns out he was a natural and Tsunade didn’t seem to mind him.. but she did have a massive blowout on him and he demanded Hashirama take his disgusting brat back

Once she wasn’t so new, Madara didn’t have a problem holding her for a minute or two and would sometimes just take her from Hashirama whenever he was looking too stressed

He’s the one that laughed about her toddler self fighting the other kids because he was the one that told her she could

While Mito and Hashirama were in college, he babysat her after daycare. often plopped her in his sidecar to go for a ride so she didn’t have to be bored indoors

He also is the one that freaked out when some little boy tried to kiss her on the playground and got into a shouting match with that kids father

Introduced his first born to her as her little cousin

Taught her how to haggle

Was absolutely disgusted when he found out she had a little boyfriend. She’s a kid, she doesn’t need a boyfriend she was 14 and if she’s dating, it should at least be an Uchiha so he can make sure the kid stays in line

Definitely chaperoned her dates or had one of his men do it and scared off at least 2 boys that way

Didn’t really care if she wanted to try his alcohol and laughed when she inevitably made a disgusted face over the taste of it. Stict with the sodas and fruity cocktails, kid.

Also never told on her when she did get in trouble. He’d just picked her up from the police station and told her she needs to either knock it off or get better at hiding it because she’s going to break Mito’s heart.

Tsunade calls him her ‘old man’, but she does give him a genuine call on Father’s Day

He’s got her graduation pictures with the rest of his children’s pictures on display in his living room

They catch up over drinks every third Thursday of the month at the lounge

He doesn’t want to here her bs about being tired of being single because they both know that is by choice. He stopped interfering with her dating life when she went off to college

He has however threatened every Uchiha within 20 years of her age that they better not fuck with her feelings

Obito

Tsunade rescued Obito from a girls beat down and teased him ruthlessly about getting stomped on by a bunch of pigtails

They get a long great and Tsunade was the cool big sister he was glad to have

She helped pop his dislocated shoulder back in and let him and let him hang out with her friends

She also threatened to knock some sense into him when it came to his fighting with Kakashi

He called her about every concern involving Ryu the first 3 months of her life even though he can afford private medical care for their baby

They have gambling nights with Hashirama and both still owe him money he’s not going to collect from them, but it’s funny seeing them still pout like they did when they were kids and losing

Any family get togethers and these two are drinking and burning food in the kitchen while swearing they’ve got it under control

Has leaned to dodge her laughing fits that usually include swatting at him

Shisui

She isn’t the most comfortable alone with him as he told her he doesn’t see her as his family and that paired with his flirtatious ways just has her on guard

Doesn’t help that he’s broken into her apartment to be stitched up at 3am

But she knows if she ever has a problem with someone, he’ll fix it. She just chooses not to owe him any favors ever.

Shisui sees her a invaluable asset to the uchiha. It’s not every day you find a doc you can pay off to look the other way and knows what loyalty means

So he chooses to keep a friendly relationship

Izuna

He didn’t like her at first

She’s some other guy’s problem, so why Madara would be carrying her around like she was his was beyond him

He eventually warmed up to the idea of her being around because she just wouldn’t leave him alone

He taught her how to do rude gestures from around the world for fun

He looks out for Tsunade and even donates anonymously to the clinic so she’ll have one less thing to worry about

He also paid her biological mother off to stay away years ago. When his informants told him she was inquiring about the child she abandoned

If she didn’t care enough to reach out until Tsunade’s father made something of himself, then she didn’t deserve to have access to her. At least that was his opinion

Only him and Tsunade know about that as he ask her if she wanted to meet this woman or if he should just sign the check

She’s the only other person his Palm cockatoo likes beside himself. So whenever Izuna out of town, she watches him

Itachi

She’s only had to treat Itachi a few times and each time he’s been a quiet guy

She knows he’s not the most trusting guy, but at least he’s respectful

She wouldn’t mind if he took over the Uchiha when Madara stepped down

Sasuke

He’s the biggest headache. He stresses her out so much

Order him to take bed rest? He’s back working BOTH jobs

She’s had to lug her medical kit to his apartment to stitch him back up

Sasuke semi avoids her because she treats him roughly (partially because he doesn’t like sitting for it)

When he’s not losing blood, they get along fine

He’ll even bring her a bottle of her favorite wine as an apology of sorts when he’s been particularly stubborn

She does try to give him life advice to solve his relationship problems, but she respects that it’s not easy to deviate from the path he was born into.

Bonus!! Madara’s daughters

Michi

Her little sister. They may not share any blood, but they share parents and that’s what matters

She’s amazed that Michi got a backbone and pulled a power move marrying the next Hyuga head

She finds her energy levels when she’s excited to be a bit exhausting, but still endearing

They often talk to each other about random things and have shopping/lunch dates

She almost choked when she figured out Michi was in some weird love square

Madara’s eldest

They’re best friends

They have no real boundaries, so they know ALL of each other’s business

The have a king standing horror movie night that they both bring food and alcohol to

They promised to be each others maid of honors when they eventually find someone

They often team up to beg for things from Madara

Middle daughter

She doesn’t really know her as she lives overseas with her father and keeps to herself

From the few holidays she’s been around her, she’s been kind to Tsunade and invited her to gamble with her and Shisui

#tattoo shop au #tsau: Senju tsunade #tsau: Uchiha Madara #tsau: uchiha shisui #tsau: uchiha obito #tsau: uchiha Izuna #tsau: uchiha Sasuke #tsau: uchiha itachi #kpz tsau ℹ️

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tingerines · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jamil x GN!Reader Genre: Fantasy, Fluff A/N: This fic is set in modern-day Japan where the NRC boys are magicless and you are the magical being. :^) I'm also today years-old when I realized I really put Ace as a side character for all of my fics.

Growing up, Jamil used to wish upon a star.

That star was always the brightest one in the night sky, yet it never seemed to stay up there for very long. But Jamil never minded that because to him, it was like that star disappeared to work on his wishes every time.

After some time, as Jamil grew older and became more preoccupied with the challenges life provided him, he stopped making wishes.

Long forgotten was the brightest star in the sky — though it continued to sparkle, watching over Jamil every night as if it was a sort of guardian angel.

He didn’t even notice that the star never left the sky anymore after he’d stopped making wishes.

That is, until one day, Jamil finally remembered the star.

It’s just past sunset on a Thursday evening when Jamil’s friend Ace comes strutting into his shared dorm room. He’s twirling a set of keys in his index finger while the other hand is shoved inside the pocket of his denim pants.

“Hey,” Ace greets as he leans against the wall next to Jamil’s desk. “Are you busy tonight?”

Jamil hums in response without taking his eyes off his laptop. He remains silent while his fingers are busy rapidly typing the last sentences to his history paper.

“Okay,” Jamil breathes out as he finally shuts off his laptop with a sharp click. He briefly rubs circles on his temple before glancing over at Ace. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free tonight? Deuce wants us to accompany him tonight for a project for his planet-something class,” Ace waves his hand dismissively in the air, the keys in his hand jingling along with the motion.

“We’re architecture majors. Why would he ask us for help?” Jamil asks as his face twists into a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“No, not help— unless he really wants to fail his class. He has to go look at some constellations or something, and he doesn’t want to do it alone. So can you come or not?”

Jamil chews on his lower lip as he thinks. He’d just finished the last assignment that’s due this week and he’s got no other plans for the weekend besides to catch up on sleep.

“Fine, I’m in,” Jamil rolls his eyes before getting up and trailing behind a much-too-giddy Ace.

He follows the male out of the dormitory to where his car is parked. In the backseat is seated a napping Deuce whose head is resting on Lilia’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Lilia is busy playing a game on his phone, and Jamil has to wonder how Deuce’s able to sleep when Lilia’s arms are shaking at 50 kilometers per hour.

“Sevens, Lilia. Could you be any more aggressive?” Ace asks once he’s situated in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” Lilia grins without a hint of guilt on his face. “Hey, Jamil.”

“Hey,” Jamil nods towards the older male after securing his seatbelt across his chest. “So… where are we going, exactly?”

“Shizuoka prefecture. It’s going to be quite the drive, so feel free to take a nap if you need it. I’m loaded on Red Bull too,” Ace enters the coordinates into his GPS before propping his phone up on a car phone mount.

Accompanying the monotone voice of the GPS is a playlist filled with piano covers of Studio Ghibli movies’ soundtracks.

It doesn’t take long for the gentle melodies to lull Jamil to sleep. His head gently and rhythmically taps against the cold surface of the car window as Ace cruises past the few hours’ drive to Gekko Observatory.

It feels like only a handful of minutes have passed by when Jamil is shaken awake by Ace. He groans as he stretches his arms out from his sides, his eyes blinking rapidly until his vision finally adjusts to the dark surroundings.

“We’re here?” Jamil asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Yes, we’re here. You wouldn’t wake up earlier, so I gave you an extra ten minutes,” Ace steps back and closes the car door once Jamil finally stumbles out of his seat. “Come on. Let’s go before I forget where Deuce dragged us off to.”

Jamil follows Ace as he makes his way past the main observatory buildings. They walk away from the well lit areas towards a much darker space, somewhere that allows them to see the stars in the night sky that much better.

They slowly approach a relatively large red tent set up in the middle of a grassy field. Beside it lay a still-gaming Lilia and Deuce setting up his telescope.

“Is this allowed?” Jamil asks as he plops down onto the grass next to Lilia.

“Yeah! As long as we don’t disturb the youth camp, I’m sure there’s no problem,” Deuce briefly nudges his head to the left before turning his attention back to his telescope.

Everyone sits in silence for a few minutes. For the small group of four, the silence is uncommon but it isn’t uncomfortable.

It gives them the chance to take in the fresh air and peaceful atmosphere that’s a stark contrast to life at university.

Jamil could hear crickets chirping, and it’s accompanied by the distant sound of children’s yells and laughter. The mental image of their carefree spirit brings a smile to his face without him even realizing it.

“So… what is it that you’re looking for, Deuce?” Lilia’s question cuts through the quietness first.

“Stars, Lilia. I’m looking for stars,” Deuce chuckles as he peers through the eyepiece of the telescope.

Jamil lays down onto the grass, his ears completely blocking out Lilia’s onslaught of questions for Deuce and his eyes trained on the dark night sky.

And there it was: a familiar bright twinkle in the sky.

Out of all the stars that he could see — and yes, there were many — that one shines the brightest of them all.

Then Jamil remembers that particular habit he had of wishing upon a star when he was younger. It’s been such a long time that he’d almost forgotten all about it.

But he feels certain that that star is the same star from his childhood.

A small smile plays on Jamil’s lips as he thinks back to all the wishes he’s made in the past. Most of them were silly, he was only a child after all.

His very first wish was for a plate of sushi in the middle of the night when he was only 7 years-old. It was on a night when he couldn’t fall asleep and decided to find his father who was still working in his home office.

“Dad?” Jamil whispers as he carefully opens the door and peeks into the dimly lit room.

Jamil’s father glances up from the pile of paperwork he’d been sorting through and smiles softly when he sees Jamil standing awkwardly at the entrance of his office, “hey, how long have you been standing there for? Come in, son.”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t sleep,” Jamil scratches at the nape of his neck, a nervous habit he’d picked up on recently.

“That’s alright, I was just about done here anyways,” his father shakes his head and closes a thick manila folder shut. “How about we go out back? Maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”

“‘Clear my head’?” Jamil echoes, the curiosity clearly etched onto his face.

“Yes. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, it’s because I’m thinking too much about something. So we have to do something to help fix that,” Jamil’s father gets up from his seat and holds a hand out towards Jamil.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Jamil places his hand in his father’s much larger one and follows the man out of his home office.

They walk towards the back of the house, towards the French doors that open up to a generously spacious backyard.

Jamil and his father take a seat on one of the benches there, and for a moment, no one says anything.

But, unlike how he is today, 7 year-old Jamil cannot sit still — at least, not in silence — for very long. Not even when there’s an ensemble of crickets surrounding him.

“Dad?” Jamil pokes at his father’s shoulder, “what are we doing out here?”

“Well…” his father sighs before gazing up at the night sky. Jamil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he followed his father’s gaze. “We’re stargazing.”

“Why?” the question comes out sounding a bit meaner than Jamil intended it to. He shakes his head quickly, as if to dismiss the question. “I—I’m sorry, I mean…”

His father chuckles before placing a hand on Jamil’s shoulder, “it’s okay, I understand what you meant. Have you heard about making wishes on stars?”

“Like that one song? From Cinderella?” he tries to say it rather nonchalantly, but due to his younger sister’s recent obsession with Disney princesses and their movies, Jamil begrudgingly has the song lyrics memorized at this point.

“Just like that,” his father chuckles again, his eyes sparkling in amusement as if he could read Jamil’s thoughts. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I’ll just sit out here and look at the stars. It’s very relaxing to me. And sometimes, maybe on the days when I feel too stressed out about something, I’ll make a wish on one.”

“Why are you stressed out, dad?” Jamil inquires with a prominent frown to his face.

“Because… of adult things that you don’t have to worry about for now.”

“Oh… but can I still make a wish anyways?”

“Of course, you can. Just pick a star and think about your wish. You can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true,” his father ruffles his hair and gives him a kind smile before returning his attention back to the sky.

Jamil also looks up at the sky where a bright star immediately catches his attention. Perhaps it was because he didn’t take the time to look elsewhere, but he could have sworn that one was the brightest of them all.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to wish for. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he believed in wishing on a star.

But there’s a first for everything, right?

So, with his dark orbs fixed on that bright star and his stomach inaudibly grumbling, Jamil wishes for the first thing that comes to mind: sushi.

He didn’t say it out loud and there weren't any special occasions coming up that would warrant it — but when Jamil woke up the next morning, he found a wide assortment of sushi rolls laid out on the kitchen table.

He thought that there was no way it could have been a coincidence, that the star must have heard him and granted him his wish. That moment made him a believer, and he began to make wishes more frequently.

“Deuce, what’s the name of that star? That really bright one,” Jamil asks without thinking, the question interrupting the conversation his friends had been having.

“Which one?” Deuce looks towards the sky, trying to pinpoint exactly where Jamil’s index finger was gesturing towards. “I think you may be looking at Arcturus. It’s the brightest star in the Boötes constellation.”

“So that’s its name,” Jamil mumbles to himself.

“What was that?” Deuce asks with his head tilted slightly.

“No, it’s nothing. Thank you,” Jamil shakes his head dismissively.

His silence after that is enough of a signal to his friends that he was done with the brief conversation. If he tries to explain his attachment to the star, would his friends think that he was being silly?

He thinks even Deuce, the one who is absolutely in love with them, would think that it was weird.

So, Jamil keeps the star as a secret to himself.

Perhaps he isn’t afraid of his friends thinking of him as foolish. No, perhaps it is merely a part of his selfishness that if the star could truly grant wishes, he wanted to keep that ability all to himself.

That brings him to a wish that suddenly blossoms inside his heart. He’s not sure when the seed was planted there, but a sudden thought occurs to him.

If the star could really hear me now, I wish I could meet them and say ‘thank you’ to them.

Jamil has to fight the sudden urge to slap himself because of how silly he finds the thought. Where did it even come from?

The lack of sleep and feelings of nostalgia must be causing him to think irrationally.

He finally sits up and scoots himself closer to the small circle his friends have formed around Deuce’s telescope.

“Do you want to take a look?” Deuce asks when he notices the thoughtful look on Jamil’s face. His body is slightly turned towards him as he nudges his telescope’s eyepiece aside. “At the stars, I mean.”

“Can I?”

“Sure. If it was Lilia, I’d think twice.”

“Hey! I’m not the one that spilled spaghetti on Ace’s laptop!” Lilia protests loudly which causes the other three men to shush him before they receive a complaint. He grimaces before lowering his voice, “sorry, sorry.”

“I only spilled it because someone decided it was the perfect time to body slam me in the cafeteria,” Jamil jokingly bites back before getting up and making his way towards Deuce.

“Arcturus, right? I adjusted the telescope so if you look, you can see it even more closely,” Deuce takes a seat on a short bench besides the telescope, watching as Jamil closes one eye and peers through the eyepiece with the other.

“Whoa,” Jamil says in awe under his breath once his eyes have adjusted to the new way of seeing the night sky, “it’s even prettier through a telescope. I can see why you enjoy this so much.”

“It’s never too late to change your major if you want to join the dark side,” Deuce chuckles as his head tilts back to look at the sky as well.

“In your dreams,” Jamil mumbles with a grin on his face when he finally leans away from the telescope. “Plus, Ace would literally bury me ten feet under if I left him in the program by himself.”

“I heard that,” Ace calls out before chucking a handful of grass towards Jamil’s head that falls down almost as quickly as it was sent up.

Deuce laughs again and sends Ace an apologetic look, “don’t worry, your best friend is safe and sound in the architecture department with you.”

Ace immediately makes a gagging sound at the mention of “best friend” before turning his attention back to the game he and Lilia were busy playing.

“Well, I’m just about done here. Maybe another hour and we can start heading back,” Deuce announces. “And… thanks for coming out here with me tonight, guys.”

The news is met with an unanimous “okay” from the rest of the group. Jamil moves away from the telescope so Deuce could take his place and continue whatever project he’d been working on prior.

“Huh, that’s weird. Arcturus is gone,” Deuce says aloud, mostly to himself, but the words capture Jamil’s attention.

Jamil’s gaze trails up to where he’d been captivated by the bright star mere moments ago, only to find that it was truly gone.

Just like before. How strange…

❥

The following Monday, there’s someone Jamil has never seen before sitting at the seat next to his usual one in one of his classes. He makes eye contact with them almost immediately after walking into the room and thinks they definitely must be a new student.

There’s no way I’d forget such an attractive face like that.

Someone behind Jamil clears their throat, signaling for him to move, because he’s blocking the flow of traffic by standing right in the middle of the doorway.

“Oh, sorry,” Jamil mumbles and bows his head apologetically.

He makes his way towards his seat with his eyes glued to his shoes, all of his usual confidence slowly leaking out. He’s not sure why the unknown person beside him is making him feel so nervous, and he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

Lucky for Jamil, he doesn’t have to make the first move today.

“Um… excuse me?”

Jamil feels a poke on his upper arm. It makes him look up and make eye contact with you once again.

“Yes?” Jamil answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laugh lightheartedly and lower your voice’s volume to match his, “Jamil Viper, right? I’m Arcturus, but you can call me y/n.”

Jamil blinks rapidly while his mouth continuously opens and closes. He’s clearly caught off guard by the mention of the bright star, but you seem completely unphased by his reaction.

“You’re pranking me, right? Did Ace tell you to say that?”

“Who— ah, your friend with the heart marking? No, he didn’t.”

“Then Deuce did?”

“Not him either. This isn’t a prank, Jamil. I’m really Arcturus,” you state firmly.

The man narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, “prove it.”

“Hm… let’s see,” you tap your chin as you mentally sort through the many wishes Jamil has made as a child. “Ah! When you were 10 years-old, you wished for a pet tyrannosaurus rex after watching the Jurassic Park movies.”

“That’s a lucky guess.”

“Fine. Wouldn’t it be better if you made a wish now and I grant it? You can’t tell me I just got lucky then.”

“Are you tricking me into making a wish? Are you sure you’re not just a sneaky little genie?” Jamil asks playfully.

“I can see why you’d think that I’m a genie, but as you can see: there’s no magic lamps involved here,” you state with a bright smile, one that doesn’t do justice to how brightly you shine in the sky. “And I wouldn’t trick you like they would either. Just tell me your wishes as they come to your heart, and I’ll make them come true. That’s what I’ve always done, right?”

Jamil wasn’t expecting for you to answer so genuinely. They were just rhetorical questions he asked without thinking, but he could tell that you were being truthful.

Still, a big part of him is suspicious.

In what world would a star become a human? And out of all the things they could do, why would they come and find him?

The other, smaller part of him wants to believe you. So he plays along and decides to humor you.

“Just like that?” Jamil asks with an eyebrow cocked up apprehensively.

“Well, you know, there are rules. But yes: just like that.”

“Okay… and what are the rules?”

“They’re exactly what you’d think they’d be: nothing illegal, nothing that can harm others— which, uh, I guess ties into the first rule.”

“And how many do I get?”

“Three.”

“Ahah, so you admit that you’re a genie.”

“Not a genie,” you giggle before tapping the tip of Jamil’s nose gently. “So, what would you like to wish for first?”

“That’s a very important decision, Arct—”

“Y/n,” you quickly interrupt the man to correct him.

“Y/n,” Jamil articulates with a raise of his eyebrows and a nod, “you’ll have to give me some time to think. I’m not even sure what I want to wish for yet.”

“Boo!” you whine, leaning over the long desk with your arms stretched out in front of you. “Well, if I have to wait then it shouldn’t be in the middle of a boring history lecture.”

As if on cue, the screen of Jamil’s phone lights up to indicate that he has a missed notification. He narrows his eyes at you one last time before unlocking his phone.

“Huh,” Jamil makes a sound that's mixed with surprise and confusion when he reads a new email on his phone. “My professor has never canceled class before. Did you… did you do this?”

You shrug when Jamil points his phone at you accusingly. But you’re pleased to see that he seems to believe you a bit more now.

There’s loud shuffling noises coming from all around you as students busy themselves by cheering for their canceled lecture and packing up their untouched laptops.

“So?” you ask, an expectant look on your face.

Jamil bites on his lower lip and taps the cap of a pen on the desk rhythmically. He stares off into space, seemingly deep in thought, and you wait patiently for him to sort through his predictably long lists of possibilities.

“Would it…” you start, poking at Jamil’s forearm to make him look at you. “Would it help if I mention that you can still make wishes even after the three?”

“What do you mean?” Jamil tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I mean, I only came down here because hanging out in the sky all night long is so boring. You try doing it for a countless amount of centuries, then trust me — you’ll understand,” you wave your hands dismissively. “Anyways, that’s besides the point. The point is: you had unlimited wishes when you were a child, and you’ll still have unlimited wishes after I finish granting the three here.”

Jamil nods in understanding before abruptly standing up and slinging a backpack strap over his shoulder, “you should’ve led with that, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to speaking to humans directly,” you say before your eyes shift between Jamil’s face and the hand he’s holding out towards you. “What?”

“I think I might know what my first wish is, so come on,” Jamil inches his hand closer to you, a signal for you to place yours in his.

You comply, allowing the man to pull you out of the empty classroom and towards an unknown location.

It’s a sunny day, a perfect day for an afternoon stroll. And despite it being the middle of the fall semester, there’s more than a handful of students frolicking in the spacious college yard instead of studying.

The sight of them being so happy and carefree brings a smile to your face. It’s rare for you to see humans during the day time — and even more rare for you to see them not stressed out by something when you do get the chance.

Really, most of the time the bright sun rays block the sight of earth from you. It restricts you to only observing them during the nighttime, when most of the population is already asleep.

Soon, the large crowds of students become much more sparse until only a few of them are left hanging around.

“Um, Jamil? Where are we going exactly?” you chime up.

It takes a few more minutes of walking before Jamil finally stops, and your shoulder accidentally bumps into his back from your lack of attention.

“Here,” Jamil turns around to face you, his ears completely blocking out your murmured apology.

You lean over to the side to peek behind Jamil only to straighten up and raise an eyebrow at the man a second after, “and what are we doing standing by this long stretch of pavement?”

“We’re here for my first wish: I wish to learn how to roller skate.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s… a very tame wish,” you state plainly.

You take Jamil’s backpack off his shoulder before squatting down and unzipping it. Your hand digs into the textbook filled space and pulls out a pair of roller skates.

Jamil’s eyes practically bulge out in shock when he sees them, because there’s no way something like that could have fit inside his small backpack.

“But as you wish,” you grin as you hold the roller skates up towards Jamil.

“Whoa, how’d you do that?” Jamil gasps as he takes them from you.

“Do you believe me now?” you counter, crossing your arms and watching as Jamil hurries to replace his tennis shoes.

“I’m ninety-nine percent convinced. Just depends on how quickly I learn how to roller skate now.”

“You know that I’m not a miracle worker, right?” you stand up quickly, your arms reaching out just in time to catch Jamil as he slips forward.

When the man turns his head, your faces are so close to one-another that the tips of your noses touch.

“S—sorry. Tha—thank you,” Jamil manages to stammer out, his ears immediately turning a bright shade of red from embarrassment as he straightens up.

You’re undeterred from the close proximity, human feelings of embarrassment or shyness not a part of your vocabulary. So you giggle and merely find Jamil’s reaction dramatic and adorable.

“Don’t be so jumpy. How am I supposed to teach you if you don’t let me get close enough to do so?” you stand behind Jamil’s wobbly frame, your hands placed on either side of his waist to steady him.

“Well, I thought you’d snap your fingers and I’d just magically know,” Jamil mumbles.

“I could, but that’s no fun, Jamil. And I came here to have fun.”

“I thought you came here to grant my wishes.”

“Oh, that too,” you nod, though the carefree tone of your voice does nothing to convince Jamil of your intentions. “Now, we’ll start off by teaching you the correct posture. The most important thing here is balance, so I’ll have to let you go now.”

“Perfect,” Jamil��s body stiffens once he feels your warmth leave his body.

The chilly autumn air does nothing to help him from missing your earlier proximity. But the more you try to coach him through the basics of roller skating, the warmer his body gets.

To anyone on the outside looking in, it may seem that Jamil is a natural at the sport. But, as fast a learner Jamil is regularly, there is no way he’s able to pick up on things as quickly as he did today.

Not to mention, his friends have already tried multiple times to teach him how to roller skate before with minimal success.

Who would have thought all-rounder Jamil Viper actually had a weakness?

Now it feels as if Jamil is moving off of muscle memory. The things that you instruct him to do sounds unfamiliar to his ears, but his body follows everything to a T.

You watch like a proud parent while Jamil glides up and down the long walk of pavement as if he’s been doing it his entire life. The sound of his gleeful laughter ringing through the air makes you smile brightly in response.

“Should we try doing some tricks now?” you ask as Jamil passes by you again.

At your question, Jamil presses down hard on his right toe to break and gives you a panicked look, “are you serious?”

“I’m serious and I haven’t failed you yet,” you place your hands on your hips, the determined look on your face telling Jamil that he couldn’t back down now.

“If you can actually teach me how to do tricks by the end of the day, then I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, done deal!” you clap in excitement, “let’s get started then!”

❥

“Remind me again why we’re here, Jamil?” you ask as you gaze up at the intricate entrance to the Centre Pompidou.

“I’m studying architecture. I wanted to see all the famous monuments of France for my studies since my classmate Rook wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Jamil replies, his hands busy taking pictures of the complex building with his phone.

“And here I thought you were just making any excuse to miss your classes.”

“Would you judge me if I say that’s kind of true?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you shake your head before holding your hands out. “Here: do you want me to take a picture for you?”

“Oh, sure. Thank you,” Jamil hands you his phone before jogging a few feet forward and facing you.

With a few clicks of the Camera app, you complete the routine that’s been established for the past few days since you’ve arrived in Paris, France.

Jamil’s second wish was quickly made the day after you taught him how to roller skate. After spending the night thinking about all the things he never got the chance to do, he went out to find you again.

It wasn’t hard for him to, you’d already told him that you’d be hanging around one of the many coffee shops surrounding the college campus.

“Oh, thank goodness you found me. I was starting to get bored,” you sigh in relief when you look up from your laptop to find Jamil sliding into the seat across from yours.

He doesn’t bother to ask where your laptop came from, or how you have the money to pay for the mocha latte in your hands. At this point, he believes that you’re capable of more things than he could possibly ever understand.

“Are you okay? Is there something on my face?” you ask when Jamil doesn’t say anything.

You gently pat your cheeks in search of anything that feels out of place, assuming that’s why Jamil is staring at you wordlessly.

“What? Oh. No. Sorry, no. You, uh, you— you look great,” Jamil shakes his head quickly before he presses his lips into a thin line and averts his eyes down to the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

You know that Jamil is usually not shy, usually not someone who stammers unless he’s nervous — it’s a rare occurrence.

So, you think perhaps he finds you intimidating: a celestial body who could probably strike him down if he’s not being too careful with himself.

It could explain why he treats you like one of his friends one minute but becomes flustered the next.

“You know that I’m not going to strike you down with lightning, right?” you lean forward with your arms crossed on the table and your lips curved up into an amused smile.

“L—lightning?” Jamil asks nervously as he scratches the nape of his neck. “Would you be able to? Strike me with lightning, I mean.”

“My name isn’t ‘Malleus’, but yes: I could if I really wanted to,” you shrug nonchalantly. A horrified look appears on Jamil’s face, and you would have found it comical if he didn’t look exactly like a deer in headlights. “But you haven’t done anything to warrant that, so don’t be so scared.”

“I’m not scared. It’s just that you’re… kind of intimidating,” Jamil huffs.

“Are you intimidated because I’m not actually human, or because your charmingly good looks don’t have any affect on me?”

“Um…” Jamil looks at you in the same way a guilty child would look at their parents during a scolding: with wide puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out into a pout. “The first one?”

“You mean the second one,” you correct the man confidently. “It’s not the first option because you still don’t believe me yet, but you will soon.

“Speaking of which,” you clear your throat before leaning in closer and lowering your voice, “do you have any ideas for your second wish?”

“Oh. Actually, y—yeah, I do,” Jamil says slowly, almost hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“Well, it’s a very big wish. I, uh… I wish I could go to France.”

“Now that’s the kind of wish I’ve been waiting for,” you nod in approval before taking your last sip of coffee and firmly placing the cup down. “Let’s go.”

“What, now?” Jamil emphasizes the last word with the raise of his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re always in a rush, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to getting these wishes done right away. So… not right now?”

“Oh, no, we can go today. I’d just need to pack some stuff first.”

“Ah, that’s right,” your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ when you realize you’ve been rushing to get moving without thinking first. “Yes, go pack whatever you need and come find me again when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later?” Jamil is already up from his chair before he could finish the question.

The excitement he exudes is contagious and you couldn’t hold back the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“You know where to find me,” you wave the man off, gesturing for him to leave the coffee shop quickly.

Less than a week has passed since Jamil made the wish that has you turning into a tourist, but it feels like you’ve spent at least a month together.

You spend every day in the same fashion as you did today: head off to a famous French monument that was in a far too long list Rook provided Jamil, he takes who knows how many pictures for future references, and then you offer to take his pictures.

You have the steadiest hands out of anyone you know — which, to be fair, isn’t that many humans in the first place — yet those pictures always turn out somewhat blurry.

Today’s pictures at the Centre Pompidou is no exception to this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I bother anymore. You should just delete those,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping in defeat as you watch Jamil swipe through his camera roll.

Despite you telling him that every single time, Jamil always keeps the pictures that you take of him.

Then, when you aren’t looking, when you’re busy taking in the beautiful sights around you, Jamil sneaks in a few pictures of you.

He’s not sure what will happen to them once you’re gone. Would they stay on his phone and you simply become a J. Doe to the rest of the world? Or would they disappear forever as if you were never there to begin with?

He bets if he asked you nicely, you’d allow him to keep those memories with him.

“So, shall we go inside?” you ask as you shove your hands into the pockets of your wool overcoat.

Your question interrupts Jamil’s brief thoughts, who merely blinks before he turns his attention to you, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go inside?” you reword and repeat your question.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s go,” Jamil nods and holds a hand out towards you.

You hesitate for only a moment before you take a hand out of your pocket and place it in his. Your skin feels cold against Jamil’s, though it’s uncertain if it’s because of the weather or something else.

Still, in an attempt to keep you warm, Jamil intertwines his fingers with yours and sticks your hands into his kangaroo pocket.

How did Jamil get from jumpy and intimidated to becoming comfortable enough to hold your hands in a matter of a week? Even he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer for that.

Perhaps his courage is influenced by the atmosphere that the city of love provides; it’s where couples in love roam freely, they hold hands and sneak in kisses whenever they can.

Jamil tells himself that the two of you are merely blending in with the crowd — that there’s no way he has a crush on you.

But as he watches you studying the artwork displayed neatly along cream-colored walls, he finds that he’d prefer to look at you instead of the exhibitions.

Snap out of it, Jamil Viper.

As if you could read his thoughts, you defy him, appearing in front of the man like an unexpected dream. Like always, there’s a beautifully wide smile on your face that makes Jamil’s heart skip a beat just at the sight of it.

“Are you okay? You’re all spaced out today.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Jamil huffs before he steps aside to let a group of tourists walk past.

“No, you’re not okay or no, you’re not spacing out?”

“No, I’m not spacing out. I was just deep in thought— yeah, deep in thoughts of what this painting could possibly mean,” Jamil gestures towards a medium-sized canvas to his right without really looking at it.

“That’s a painting of the Mona Lisa holding a chubby ginger cat. I’m not really sure that there’s any special meaning to it,” you chuckle briefly before you reach out to gently tug at the sleeve of Jamil’s hoodie. “Come on, mister, let’s go.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Jamil asks as he uncrosses his arms and allows you to drag him past the long and heavily populated hallways of the art gallery.

“I figured you could use a change of pace from all the art museums and history— not that there’s anything wrong with any of those places. But I planned a little surprise for you.”

“You did?” Jamil’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“Okay, I admit the idea just popped into my head,” you glare playfully at the man. “But I’m not the one trying to find a deeper meaning to a cat painting.”

Jamil doesn’t say anything in response, doesn’t try to tell you that he finds you even more mesmerizing than all the artwork in the building combined — and that he’d been staring at you this entire time.

He just lets out a short laugh and nods in agreement.

You stop in front of an emergency exit door before turning around to face Jamil. The serious look on your face is a rare sight to see and the man knows that he should take your next words seriously.

“Don’t freak out when I open this door,” you say slowly, making sure to enunciate every word.

Jamil nods again before his eyes trail up to the bright exit sign above the door, “are we… going to trigger the fire alarm for fun?”

“Definitely not. I’m sure that actually goes against both of my rules,” you take a few steps backwards until your back is pressed against the push pad of the exit device.

Jamil braces himself for bright flashing lights and loud alarms when you push the door open, but he’s met with neither of those things.

Instead, he sees beautiful shades of orange on the other side of the door. There’s a generously wide and long stretch of grass lined with various types of trees, and both locals and tourists lounging about the large space.

“Don’t worry, we’re here for a picnic,” you nod your head towards the scene, waiting for Jamil to walk past the threshold of the door to follow him out.

Jamil glances back when the door softly shuts behind you, the surprise evident on his face when he finds that it’s been replaced by a black Peugeot 208.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re actually a magical being who can do stuff like that.”

“And you don’t seem as shocked as you should be for a human being,” you shoot back with a grin. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d much prefer that to you screaming in fear.”

Jamil looks unamused at your last sentence. He knows exactly what you are referring to: the first time he experienced the unexplainable things that you are capable of.

That experience was similar to what you’d done just now, and it was what solidified his belief in you.

“Okay, but you didn’t warn me that opening the door to a washroom was going to lead me to the top of the Eiffel Tower. This is a lot more acceptable.”

“Well, I figured we could make the journey a lot easier and faster by doing that,” you shrug, the contents of the picnic basket in your hands making soft shuffling noises as you move. “Now, let’s go find an open space to sit.”

You follow closely behind Jamil as he maneuvers around small clusters of chatty folks, most of which doesn't hear his muttered “excuse me.”

You follow him until you reach nearly the end of the grassy terrain where there is a decent amount of available space for you to lay a blanket on top.

“Where are we anyways?” Jamil asks once you’re situated on top of the thick blanket protecting your clothes from the damp grass.

“The Luxembourg Gardens. I overheard someone saying that it’s the perfect spot for a picnic, and figured you could use the change in scenery.”

Jamil has to admit that you’re right about that.

The much needed fresh air aside, Jamil finds that he surprisingly enjoys seeing all the beauty that nature has to offer as much as he enjoys studying the intricate ways buildings can be made.

Or, at least, he used to enjoy it.

That was before he decided to take on as many classes as he could in a single semester when he started college. All his time is spent on studying and making sure he got all his assignments done on time.

Somewhere along the way, he even managed to secure an internship that took up even more of his time and attention.

What little free time he earned would be spent on making sure his friends knew that he was still a functioning member of society. Even then, Jamil would spend the entire time thinking about both the assignments he’s already completed and the ones he left for later.

Ace would say that he’s burned out and needs to step foot outside of the college grounds more often.

Now he’s really taken that advice to heart, because how much farther away from college could he get than Paris, France?

“Clear your head and eat a carrot, Jamil,” you interrupt the man’s thoughts by waving a baby carrot in front of his face.

“Veggies,” Jamil groans before a look of utter disgust overtakes his features.

“What?” you ask in the most innocent tone you could muster up and bring the carrot closer to Jamil’s face.

“Please, I’ll literally eat anything else,” Jamil sticks his tongue out in a mock gagging motion as he leans further away from your hand.

“You mean you’ll eat anything that’s not fruits or vegetables, right? That’s bad, you know,” you click your tongue in disapproval before taking a small bite of the baby carrot. “Maybe you should use your last wish to make all of it taste like pasta.”

“Can you do that?”

“I could but I won’t.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I will not be the person responsible for you getting tired of eating pasta. You’ll hate me forever and I don’t want that.”

“Well, I’ll hate you anyways if there’s no pasta in that basket,” Jamil says jokingly, his teasing causing you to throw the baby carrot towards his chest in retaliation. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You narrow your eyes at the man before you stick a hand inside the picnic basket and pull out a plastic container filled with chicken alfredo. Jamil lets out a loud cheer at the sight and smell of the food, his abrupt holler earning him a few glances from nearby visitors.

“You get so excited about food, Jamil. I remember you used to wish for sushi and ramen all the time as a child,” you giggle, watching with sparkling eyes as Jamil takes the container from your hands and hurriedly opens it.

“Well, the purpose of life is to eat and enjoy as much food as you can, you know?”

“Oh, is it now?”

“It sure as heck is the purpose of mine,” Jamil nods firmly.

You hum in response and curl up into a loose ball with your arms hugging your legs and chin resting on top of your knees. Your eyes flutter shut just as a gentle breeze begins to blow.

The sun is setting behind Jamil’s hunched over figure, the warm sunlight illuminating your figure and making you appear nearly ethereal in Jamil’s eyes.

You’re so beautiful.

Jamil averts his eyes just as quickly as the thought enters his mind; and as he shoves forkfuls of pasta into his mouth, he tries hard to ignore the warm feeling igniting inside his chest.

❥

“This is a dream, isn’t it?”

“What?” you ask, turning your head to look at Jamil who is laying towards the opposite direction of you but with his head resting right by yours.

“I keep thinking that this entire trip — and you — are all just part of a really long dream,” Jamil sighs before he also turns his head towards you.

“Would you like me to pinch you? Isn’t that what people do when they think they’re dreaming?”

Jamil laughs at your questions, his warm breath fanning across your face and his eyes curving into rainbows. He knows that you’re genuinely asking, but he still finds you too innocent and adorable for your own good.

“No, I think I’d like to stay inside this dream. But thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

Comfortable silence blankets over the two of you as you resume your previous activities of stargazing. At least, an attempt is made because there aren't as many stars in the Paris night sky as you’d like there to be.

Regardless of that, Jamil tries to savor every moment of relaxation he’s been awarded since you’ve come into his life.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been able to take a step back to just breathe like this.

His normal life has no time for hobbies — there isn’t any time to spare to learn how to ice skate, roller skate, snowboard, or any other fun activities his friends like to do.

This is the first time he’s been able to travel out of the country, for vacation no less, and he isn’t even stressed out about the schoolwork he’s probably missing out on right now.

It feels like a dream: being able to lay on the grass of the Luxembourg Gardens with no worries and with you by his side.

“I wish that this dream would last forever,” Jamil whispers, his voice barely audible but you’re close enough that you can still hear him. “Can you make that happen?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Jamil.”

“It’s just that… since you came along, I feel like I can finally breathe again. This is the most relaxed and carefree I’ve felt in a very long time. I didn’t even realize how stressed out I was before, and—and I don’t want to go back. ”

You had an inkling that Jamil may have gotten attached to you, may have gotten used to having your constant presence by his side. That’s why he feels so comfortable around you now — at least, enough to make jokes and tease you when he could.

It never occurred to you that he may want to keep you by his side when you’re not able to do so. Not until now.

“I wish…”

You hold your breath as you wait for Jamil to continue his sentence. You know that once he makes his third and final wish, you’ll immediately and completely disappear from his life.

Perhaps, it is for the better that he’ll have no recollection of you besides as a star in the sky.

“I wish I could continue to feel this way. I wish, among all the stress and madness, I’ll also have the time to be free and enjoy life,” Jamil laughs at himself, finding himself silly for saying the words out loud. He turns to you with a soft smile on his face, “can you make that happen? It’s a pretty tall order.”

You nod slowly, refusing to look at the man as you mumble, “as you wish.”

With those words, your body begins to emit a gentle white glow.

At first, Jamil thinks it’s a reaction of you granting his wish. But as your body becomes more and more transparent, the panic settles more and more inside his heart.

“Y/n?” Jamil calls out, his voice shaky as he reaches out to cup your cheek. His hand passes through your disappearing body, causing him to panic even more and the volume of his voice rising as he calls out for you again. “Y/n!”

A final burst of bright white light makes Jamil shut his eyes tightly and shield them with his hands. Just as quickly as the light came, he finds himself surrounded by darkness and quiet once again.

When Jamil finally opens his eyes, he finds himself lying down in the backseat of Ace’s car. He groans, carefully getting up without moving Lilia’s sleeping figure too much.

He rests his friend’s head on his shoulder after he sits up and looks out the car window, “where are we?”

“Oh, you’re up?” Ace replies as he glances up at the rear-view mirror to look at Jamil’s dark silhouette.

“Yeah, I had the strangest dream: I was in Paris.”

“You must have been hanging out with some mimes because you were laughing a lot in your sleep.”

“Was I?” Jamil raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I can’t even remember what the dream was about anymore. All I remember is standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Well, don’t go back to sleep because we’re about half an hour away from the dorm now.”

“Sure,” Jamil adjusts his position so he can prop his elbow and chin up on an arm rest.

He watches as they drive past a handful of traffic lights and countless street lights, a strange feeling of being out of place poking at him.

But he pushes the feeling away for the remainder of the drive back to the dorms. He continues to push it away when he sinks into his dorm bed in exhaustion 30 minutes later and dreams of seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The next morning, Jamil wakes up to about a dozen emails that all include some sort of revision to the class syllabi.

“What in the world?” Jamil asks, his voice groggy from sleep and his eyes blinking against the bright light of his phone screen.

Once his eyes have adjusted, Jamil scrolls through the emails before logging into every student portal available to him. He double, triple, and quadruple-checks every platform to make sure his professors weren’t simply playing a trick on him.

“Good morning, Jamil!” a familiar voice gleefully calls out.

Light pours into the room as the door is opened by none other than a smiling Ace. His cheerful demeanor further confirms that Jamil wasn’t simply imagining the emails.

“Did you hear the good news yet?” Ace ignores the protests of Jamil’s roommate as he prances into the room and plops down on the edge of his friend’s bed. He doesn’t wait for Jamil to answer before he continues talking, “now we have all this free time outside of getting our major projects done. What are we gonna do with ourselves?”

Despite still being half-asleep, Jamil can’t deny that he’s also filled with delight at the unexpected news. His mind is already going through all the things he’s been holding off on doing — but he can’t seem to wave off a major sense of déjà vu as he does so.

“Oh, wait. How about we finally teach you how to roller skate?” Ace pats Jamil’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“No offense, Ace, but you’re way too energetic in the morning,” Jamil groans and pulls his blanket up to his chin. He squints at Ace’s unwavering grin for a few silent seconds before he finally sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m in.”

“That’s the spirit! I’ll let the guys know,” Ace silently cheers, saving Jamil’s roommate from the unwelcomed noise before he saunters out just as quickly as he came in.

On a normal day, even if Jamil said that he was in, he still wouldn’t have enough free time to actually learn anything besides the basics — if that.

So it’s a nice change of pace when, less than an hour later, he meets his friends besides the same stretch of pavement as where you granted him his first wish.

He doesn’t remember those events in detail, only as fleeting events of a strange dream, and dismisses his sense of déjà vu as having been at this spot many times before.

“You still remember the basics, right?” his friend Kalim asks as he holds his arms out towards Jamil.

Jamil gratefully grabs onto the long limbs for support as he slowly gets up, his legs wobbling while he tries to balance himself on the roller skates.

“Have you been practicing without us?” Lilia asks with his gaze fixed on Jamil’s legs.

It’s a harmless question that’s only asked because Jamil’s not very big on balance. No, usually he and Kalim would have to keep a close eye on their friend to make sure his legs aren’t floundering like fish on dry land.

But today, Jamil seems stable on his own, and they step back and watch in surprise as Jamil glides freely without them.

“Oh, Ace’s not going to believe this,” Lilia laughs before dragging Jamil’s backpack to his side and rummaging through the pockets for his phone.

Lilia unlocks the phone with every intent to take a video of Jamil acing the Basics of Roller Skating 101. But a recent picture displayed on the lower left hand corner of the Camera app catches his attention.

“Jamil, do you have a partner? They’re cute,” Lilia comments after he’s clicked on the display and enlarges the photograph. “I mean, thanks a lot for not telling us though.”

“What? Where? Who?” Kalim quickly appears behind Lilia to peer over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. When do I have the time for a partner?” Jamil furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he makes his way over to his huddled up friends.

Kalim and Lilia exchange looks of disbelief before Lilia holds the phone out so Jamil could look at what’s displayed on the screen.

His breath hitches when he sees a picture of you.

They’re the same photographs that you didn’t know he’d taken of you. They’re proof that you were real — and you existed in this world briefly although Jamil has no recollection of who you are.

And if you’d known those pictures existed, they’d have been erased from Jamil’s memory just like everything else had been.

“I… I have no idea who this is,” Jamil says unconvincingly as he takes his phone away from Lilia.

He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the still of your face. The bright smile you’ve always graced him with is permanently captured within a photograph of a J. Doe.

Jamil can’t remember meeting someone with your face. He certainly doesn’t remember your name or why he would have your picture on his phone.

But the longer he stares at the pictures, the farther the warmth igniting in his chest spreads throughout his body.

A single, short thought enters his mind.

Thank you.

And although he doesn’t know why he thought that, he has the sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the person in the photographs.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst jamil #twisted wonderland jamil #twst drabble #jamil drabble #twst fluff #jamil viper

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writing-to-survive · 11 months

Text

#33

"What a pleasure to see you, Vigilante. We don't usually fight on Thursdays. Bored, perhaps?" Villain laughs.

Vigilante and Villain stand on top of a tall building. The weather is nice out, no rain or freezing rain. Today really would be a good day for a fight.

"Actually, Villain, I have some news for you," Vigilante says, looking away from Villain's eyes.

"What? Do you have a new move to take me down?" Villain gently provokes, raising their hands in the air to fight.

"No. I got an..." Vigilante pauses, "opportunity."

The excitement in Villain increases. "What? To take me down?"

"Again, no. Just listen-"

"Come on! Let do this already!" Villain interrupts.

"I'm going to work with Hero's Team!" Vigilante yells.

Villain's arms drop to their side. All the excitement that they had, gone. Every word Vigilante just said is like blows to Villain's chest.

"What?" Villain asks quietly.

Vigilante darts their eyes around as if someone had heard them from the street below. They rub their neck and sigh.

"Hero came to me a few days ago and offered. They told me I was good. Good enough that I don't need to hide in the shadows to fight crime. This is my chance."

"Chance? You already fight crime. I'm crime, and you fight me!" Villain shoots.

"Illegally! I fight illegally. What? Did you think I would spend the rest of my life fighting you? Get over yourself, Villain," Vigilante defends roughly.

Villain is taken aback. How could words from the arch nemesis hurt so bad?

A quietness falls over the two. Vigilante shakes their head in anger. Villain stands there in what feels like, defeat.

"You know, I did kinda think that," Villain admits, breaking the silence. "You're the hero to my villain."

Vigilante smiles at the flooding memories of the fights the two of them had. "It was fun."

"Yeah. I don't want it to end." Villain says.

Silence surrounds them again. But Villain never wants to be silent around Vigilante.

"What happens now?" Villain wonders. They turn and look at the city they've fought Vigilante for years. "Will we ever fight again?"

"We will fight again, knowing you," Vigilante tries to joke, yet fails. "I just won't be alone."

"You're my arch nemesis, I'll only ever fight you," Villain states.

Villain stands there, letting escaping seconds pass by. They turn around, finding an empty space for where Vigilante was standing.

"May we meet again on the battlefield, Vigilante, and may it only be just the two of us," Villain whispers.

Shall their story continue?

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buttercup-fluffalove · 5 months

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note from the buttermom: thank you thank you thank you to everyone who posted comments sending good wishes to buttercup. here's an update on everyone's favorite floofy baby:

on wednesday buttercup seemed a little aloof, hanging out on her favorite chair instead of stalking me like she always does. i was concerned but chalked it up to the fact that i was running around like a crazy person prepping for thanksgiving and wasn't giving her the attention she needed.

then on thursday she was way off. way way off. very lethargic, slinking away when i tried to pet her, drool staining her mouth and discharge around her nose, and her breath was even worse than kitty breath should be. my panic was mounting all day long as i fought not to google her symptoms (because i default to impending-doom-mode). by evening i was beside myself with worry but also worried i was overreacting; finally my husband practically shoved me out the door to take her to the emergency vet, if only so i wouldn't keep him up all night worrying.

initially the vet thought she just had an upper respiratory infection, based on her nasal discharge, drool, and lethargy. however upon her exam they noted the bad breath and that her belly was extremely sensitive - she did her big girl 'leave me alone' growl the moment they touched her. those are both tell-tale signs of an intestinal blockage so they took her back for imaging.

which i could hear her not enjoying from the waiting room. they ultimately had to sedate her to get a proper image and exam done. i got to snuggle her while the drugs kicked in though so that was nice.

when she was calm enough they were able to get some imaging and discovered what they call a "linear foreign body" - eg she had swallowed some string or yarn. (there was also some still stuck in her mouth, wrapped around and under her tongue.) this is exceptionally dangerous because one end can get snagged in the digestive track while the rest of it continues to get pushed through, resulting in the small intestine essentially bunching itself up like a tube sock, and then it can start to shred. when that happens, the only way to repair it is to remove the damaged sections of intestine.

if i hadn't brought her in, she would have died.

she needed surgery immediately.

they gave me a few moments alone with her, during which i sobbed uncontrollably and told how much i love her and that she needed to be brave and strong and come home to me.

then they took her back and sent me home, where i continued to cry and clean up every last inch of the lower level of the house of anything that could possibly be string or string-adjacent. (today i tackle the upper level.)

finally around 4 am they called me with the best possible version of this horrible situation: the string had only gotten as far as her stomach. they were able to remove it from her stomach, esophagus, and mouth, and there was no sign that it had moved into her small intestine so they didn't have to do any further cutting. there may be small remnants passing through, and her pancreas is inflamed which is rather concerning, so she needs to be monitored for a while still.

they'll be keeping her for at least the rest of today (friday), maybe tomorrow too. they need to make sure she's eating again (i'm pretty sure she hadn't eaten in almost 2 days), properly hydrated, and using the litterbox - all of which are signs that her intestines haven't been damaged and are working properly.

i may get a chance to visit her this afternoon, and will post further updates as i know more.

i am so grateful to the staff at the emergency vet hospital - and even more grateful that they were open last night on the holiday, given that every other vet clinic in 100 miles was closed. they were so kind to me as i broke down crying in the office, and were completely in love with buttercup at first sight (who isn't?) and ready to do anything and everything to save her life.

the house is painfully quiet and empty without the magnificent butterbeast prowling the halls. cross your fingers and toe-beans that she'll be able to come home soon and have a speedy recovery, with lots of good drugs to keep her calm and pain-free as she heals. she'll have to wear the angry lamp for a while, but she's going to be okay.

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jinmukangwrites · 8 months

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weep little lion man (10/14)

First - Previous - Next

Fandom: Jedi: Fallen Order / Survivor Rating: T Warnings: panic attacks, one or two gorey metaphor. Ao3 Notes: I apologize for missing last Thursday. I've had some irl things I had to focus on, and then then when I planned to upload on the weekend Iskall85 broke into my house and held me at gunpoint until I downloaded Minecraft Vault Hunters and played it. It was all against my will I swear. Anyways, welcome to the climax to the story, I hope it lives up to expectations >:3

Summary: After defeating Dagan Gera for a third and final time, the Compass ends up in Bode's hands without a scratch. He could go back to Jedha with Cal... but he's holding what he wants. He doesn't see the point in pretending any longer. He makes a split-second decision. Or: Bode's betrayal goes a bit differently.

-o0o-

Cal didn't need to ask why Bode didn't let Cal throw the muzzle himself; not that Cal wanted to of course—if he could go the rest of his life knowing that he'd never touch one of those humiliating things again, he'd die fulfilled. Regardless, he's sure even if he did ask to do the deed himself, Bode's fingers would have tightened and his posture gone stiff, a no quickly breathed out. There's been too many instances in Cal's life where people have purposely made sure he would not touch something that he's long since stopped being surprised, or offended, by it.

People know when an item is important to their emotions. It was the same when Cal was a youngling and the older Jedi would keep him away from various rooms, or when he was a Padawan aboard the Albedo Brave and troopers would hold things in the hand furthest from Cal, or after Cere first explained to Greez what psychometry was and Geez did a deep clean of the ship and stuffed several items into his quarters. He saw it when Merrin refused to let him touch her necklace for months. He saw it with the Partisans, with his old group, how personal belongings quickly got locked up somewhere Cal couldn't get into.

Bode knew he had memories attached to that muzzle, and he didn't want Cal seeing them. That was fine, Cal didn't want to see them either. Honestly, this close to escaping this planet, the last thing he needed was getting into the mind of his captor and experiencing what Bode was thinking and feeling while putting that blasted thing around Cal's jaw.

Cal doesn't need psychometry to sense Bode's overwhelming and barely disguised guilt. He doesn't want to know what can motivate a man to dehumanize someone he once called brother despite that guilt.

-o-o-o-o-

Bode's avoiding Cal like Cal's suddenly caught a new stand of the Blue Shadow Virus rather than have just gotten over a bad cold. Cal wakes up the next morning with every intention dialed in towards playing along until an opportunity to escape without being immediately missed presented itself; and he almost thought he'd have to do just that until Bode grumbled off a small list of chores and announced he was off to see if the poultry laid any eggs.

It's worrying that Bode's mood has soured so quickly while Cal was sick. If he's honest, Cal's not sure if he wants to know the cause of it or not.

Not that it matters, after about a half hour of waiting to see if Bode would suddenly come back (he doesn't), Cal decides it's about time he gets out of here. He shares a meaningful look with Kata, fighting the sudden bout of anxiety pooling acid in his stomach; shaking his hands.

"Go," she says, giving a small smile. "I'll be okay."

Cal desperately wishes he could take her with him, but that would be reckless and risky. It would already be disastrous if Bode catches him on the way to steal the Compass and the jet while alone; if he's caught taking Kata with him, he's pretty sure whatever goodwill Bode has squashed deep down would suddenly become irrelevant. If he leaves alone, Kata can lie—she can lie and say she didn't know Cal was trying to escape, and Bode would believe her. But if he takes her, he's pretty sure Bode would see that as Cal actively threatening or endangering his daughter, and capture would be replaced with murder if those day-one threats are to be believed.

Leaving Kata will also give him time. If Bode comes back and asks where he is, she can give a fake excuse until Bode gets suspicious around nightfall. Cal hasn't forgotten about Bode holding his family over his head; he's pretty sure communications off Tanalorr are still impossible and that Bode hasn't magically found a way to bypass that, but it's not a risk Cal can make. He needs to leave and find his family before Bode goes through with his threats of calling the Empire on them.

He doesn't know what he'd do if he escaped just to find Bode followed through; that the Empire had found his family and had possibly... no. That won't happen.

So he nods at her, mentally promising to do everything in his power and return for her when he has more backup and a better fighting chance against Bode. He won't leave her here, to become a prisoner of isolation and loneliness.

Before he leaves, he goes to the corridor containing the bedrooms. He doesn't enter his own room, nothing in there really belongs to him and all he needs are the clothes on his back and the lightsaber at his hip. He could probably go through Bode's room to try and find his blaster, but then he remembers that Bode gave it to him in the first place, and his gut twists a bit uncomfortably at that. Besides, going through Bode's room would mean possibly entering memories he didn't want to enter.

So, instead of either of those things, he goes to the end of the collapsed corridor and presses his bare fingers against rubble. He sees a single Jedi, her blue lightsaber blazing as she stands her ground, protecting her Padawan who had fled further into the temple; he was too young to fight in a battle like this—only thirteen and so shy and sensitive. She shouldn't have brought him here; but it was supposed to be safe from the Nihil. It was supposed to be impossible to visit unless you had a Compass. She fully supported Master Khri and Master Gerra into making this strange place a haven, a temple, a planet for Jedi, but no one could have seen those blasted Nihil coming with their blasted ships that traveled through hyperlanes in ways no one could understand.

The ground shuttered under her feet and the walls screamed through a crumbling roar. A Nihil anarchist ran towards her, screaming their meaningless selfish words beneath their monstrous mask, and she swirled her lightsaber, eager to clash. "We are all the Republic," she hissed through clenched teeth right when another explosion rippled through the temple, burying them both below merciless rubble.

Cal blinks, pulling his fingers away. He hopes that Padawan got away safely and didn't die horribly, trapped on the other side.

Cal doesn't like the similarities.

Gravel shuffles underfoot as he carefully follows the directions Kata had given him to the cave. He needs the Compass first, the jet was useless without it; and there's all the possibility Bode might spot Cal leaving with it. It's better to have the Compass first and foremost.

Eventually, he comes across the very cave Kata had described; carved into an unassuming cliff face and hidden behind tall purple bushes. Its mouth barely came up to Cal's chest, but the width was about as long as two Cal's laying foot-to-head. He pushes himself through the shrubbery, then crouches low to hobble inside. Natural light dimly illuminates the small cave, the structure itself scales significantly the second he's passed the initial lip. He's able to stand fully—though the width remains about the same—and there's a slight decline in the elevation. The depth of the cave doesn't go far at all, in fact it only takes several small steps to get to the far wall where a duffle lays innocently, abandoned and untouched.

He watches carefully for any sensors or alarms before he fully approaches the bag, heart slow but loud. He doesn't find anything, and the Force stays silent, nothing feels off or dangerous—not like the Force has warned him about Bode before. After a few moments of finding nothing, Cal bends down next to the duffle and digs his fingers into the zipper. It takes a breath to open the bag, but it's a breath soon stolen as the contents reveal themselves. He can't say he's surprised to find all those thrice-damned restraints looking back at him, but it still stuns him into falling still, doing nothing but forcing breath through his lungs and staring at the cuffs and coiled rope.

It takes him entirely too long to swallow what felt like a lump of poison. The cave walls seem to shift at the corners of his vision, and every joint becomes tense with an overwhelming urge to get out. He can feel the air pressing around him, becoming stale and thick, every instinct suddenly very instant for him to get to open air as quickly as possible before the walls collapse around him like that Jedi at the temple, or the horizon in his nightmares...

... or the tight compartment of Bode's ship.

Breathe.

He needs to get moving. He tries to shift away the various restraints to dig further into the bag, but his hands shake so much that nothing stays where he tries to put it. Frustrated with his own irrationally rising panic and fear, he rips his gloves off for more dexterity and grip; building up familiar mental walls to avoid falling into unwanted echoes. He can sense his own emotions raging through the restraints. Confusion, betrayal, claustrophobia, terror. He's never sensed an echo of himself before, he didn't really think those kinds of echoes were possible. He blocks the emotions from whiting out his vision and rewiring every nerve in his body; he doesn't want to test and see if he can fall into an echo of his past self, especially when he already knows exactly what he'd think and feel.

He'd like to stay in denial about his new relationship with tight spaces, thank you.

He tries not to think about it, just like how he quickly finds himself also trying not to think about how there's extra restraints in here that he doesn't recognize; particularly a collar and a handful of tranquilizers.

He finally reaches the bottom of the bag, his heart fluttering and his vision swirling. His eyes soon land on the familiar cylindrical shape of the Compass and his knees nearly collapse in relief. He reaches his hand down to grab the small device and get the kriff out of there, but his hand accidentally brushes against something small and metal.

And everything goes blindingly white.

Strings of his own consciousness have just enough time to feel terror at entering an echo of himself, just enough time to curse himself for letting the relief crack his mental walls, before vision returns and...

... and his hands aren't his own. His thoughts aren't his own. His emotions aren't his own.

This memory isn't his own.

He- Bode is standing above Cal's body. He's fueled by instinct. Impulse. Fear. Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt-

Resolve.

Bode lifts a small communication device to his lips, almost robotically, his eyes never leaving Cal's prone body as he clicks the button that will link him through to his intended audience.

"This is a secure channel! How did you-"

-o-o-o-o-

Cal's thrown out of the vision violently at the end of it. He crumples to the ground like gravity has suddenly increased, chest heaving and the structure of his bones feeling all wrong. It's been ages since he's had such an exhausting vision, such a horrible vision that he immediately wishes he could unsee.

But he can't unsee it. He can't unhear it. The words pound through his skull over and over and over again.

"There are multiple Jedi at this location, inform the Inquisitorius at once. If Lord Vader wants Cere Junda, he'd better hurry."

Voices flood through his system; every easy lie Bode's told him, the sound of mechanical breathing and the deep eruption of a red saber, screams of his family, of his friends, of everyone and everything and the Force itself.

His own voice joins the screaming, the communication device easily snaps in his fingertips as he clenches his fists against the stone ground, sobbing and dry heaving until he throws the vile thing across the cave, bringing his hands to his hair and weeping.

He thought he knew betrayal before, but this? This feels like being pulled apart by the seams; flesh being torn from bone and nerves left bare to be flayed.

The screaming mercilessly continues, so loud and piercing he's surprised his ears aren't bleeding.

Emotions rage, realizations stabbing into him like vibroblades between each and every rib.

He called the Empire- no, he called the Inquisitorius. Darth Vader. He sent death incarnate itself to Jedha where Cere and Cordova are... where Greez, BD, and Merrin could have gone after Cal was taken. And he lied when Cal asked about their safety.

He screams again, throat painfully cracking as his brain works against him to show him images of corpses and blood on his hands. He can feel the thud of Master Tapals body sliding down to the floor; he can smell the heat of Trilla's lightsaber as he tries to slam his own down on top of her; Prauf slumping down to the rain soaked stone. He can see Gabs's face go slack and eyes unfocused. He can hear heavy, mechanical breathing cut down Trilla after she begs to be avenged. He can imagine all of this and more so easily, so unwillingly, so vividly, happening to Cere, Cordova, Greez, Merrin, BD-1, even everyone back at the saloon. It's like he's been forced back into a vision, and he's watching it all happen, red lightsabers leaving glowing yellow embers in the flesh they cut through, unable to do anything.

Clutching his skull, groaning, he stumbles to his feet as tears leak through the corners of his eyes and down the tip of his nose. The screaming isn't stopping—why isn't it stopping?!

The ground rolls under his feet, his brain stuttering like an old hyperdrive to try and figure out what his next move should be. Is it even worth grabbing the Compass anymore? Is it even worth leaving this planet?

"You keep losing people."

His mind shudders, cringing within itself as overwhelming grief, pain, hate, floods into his very soul.

"Hold the line."

He doesn't know what to do. Anguish clouds his every thought. He had refused to entertain the idea of Bode lying, and the new information has shocked him to his core, ripping away everything that makes him him and replacing it with a body that acts on instinct and heartsickness. His family is dead. He's stayed in one place for too long. He's trusted someone he shouldn't. He didn't hold the line. He's a disappointment as a Padawan and an even more worthless friend.

This is his fault.

His eyes harden as his body, as the screams, as his hatred know what to do next. The urges come naturally, and easily, and there's hardly anything left of him to try and fight them off.

He stumbles out of the cave, the light of the sun burning against the back of his neck can't compare to the rage in his heart as his hand goes to his hip and grabs the hilt of his saber.

An orange blade erupts, and the tears clear with an angry, vengeful blink.

"BODE!" He howls, his hand tightening against the blade with resolve to avenge his family and surrender to the screams urging him onwards.

He's going to kill Bode. He doesn't care what comes after.

#cal kestis #bode akuna #jedi fallen order #jedi survivor #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi survivor #jin writes #fanfiction

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lightbluuestars · 8 months

Note

if Peemo got to be your boyfriend husband for the week, how would you spend it?

A WEEK?!! AN ENTIRE WEEK?!! oh my god i'd simply pass away (of love and happiness)

how should i put this, hm? just a day with this man would be enough!! (until it ends, then i'm empty for the rest of my life)

seven whole days of love and affection and appreciation for one another, oh my god

sunday would be particularly cozy, spending the day inside and just lovin on each other. hugs, kisses, cuddles, fueling each other for the week ahead. he'd have a ghoul tend to his plants, just for that day. preferably an earth ghoul, please.

monday would be kind of busy, having duties to attend to around the abbey and whatnot. inviting me out to his gardens and greeting me with an affectionate hug along with a sweet kiss. he'd show me around his gardens, pointing out specific plants and flowers he liked or thought i would like. the day ends with dinner and reading together in bed. i'd show him the pictures in my books, fascinated. (wwii books, i like them a lot, very interesting)

tuesday would come, and every morning is almost the same. waking up together, showering (depends on what mood we're in, together or alone), dressing, and leaving each other once again to preform our duties in the abbey. occasionally, i'd help him with his paints, but i don't often because i joke i don't trust myself with that kind of job. i simply cannot focus enough for that. this time, i invite him to have lunch with me, and we talk about what we had done earlier in the day, and what we will do. depending on our moods, we might spend the night in bed together pleasing one another, or we might stay outside and look at the stars. he likes to watch the stars, and points out constellations in the sky for me to look at.

wednesday arrives, and the morning is a free one. we shower together, and i attempt to apply his paints but fail miserably and end up a heap of laughter on the floor. he fixes his paints, taps my nose, and then we have breakfast. he brews some of his own tea, and i happily join him in sitting outside and enjoy the morning sun. we spend most of the morning outside, and he watches as i fashion flower crowns out of the clovers in the grass. (with his permission, of course.) i place one on his head, and one on mine. he smiles, and admires the crown i had made for him. the day ends with a nice bath (together, obviously) and doing our own thing before bed. he might finish up some paperwork, and i might end up drawing. a good day.

thursday is here, and he is gone when i wake up. turns out, he was needed somewhere, and left me alone. (sad, i know) i continue on with the day, barely even seeing him. i end up coming back and jumping his bones, and the entire night is spent together, making up for the lost time from the day.

friday, finally, and he's stuck in bed with a bad back. courtesy of last night's events. i take the day off, reassure him that his garden will be fine, because i asked a trusted earth ghoul to care for the garden. i care for him the whole day, brewing him tea and massaging his back. i draw a bath for him, with epsom salts, and leave him be for a while. after he's back in bed, i give him some painkillers and kiss his forehead, telling him to get some sleep. i stay up for a while longer, before retreating to bed and falling asleep next to him.

on saturday, his back is better and he can get back outside again. this time, he goes without the paints. it's a saturday, he can relax. he takes his time out in the garden, and will happily accept my help once i'm out there with him. i had brought him some tea and scones, and we enjoyed the morning together. the afternoon was spent in near silence, just existing together. the occasional turn of a page or the flutter of the curtains in the wind disrupted the silence, but it was well welcomed. we were happy together. the day ends curled around each other in bed, whispering words of affection until we drift off to sleep.

#i've been waiting for this #you don't even understand #primo #lightbluuestars answers #mutuals #would this count as #primo x reader #????#can you tell i'm obsessed #i think you can #i wanna fuck that old man #so bad

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pan-de-queer · 1 year

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valleys behind your kneecaps (supercorp)

Genre: Fluff, No Powers AU

Summary:

Sam clasps her hands together as she leans almost halfway over the table. “Will you please do this for me?” “Sam—” “I’ll never complain about your restaurant choices ever again, you can keep the modeling payment, and I’ll buy you lunch for two weeks straight.” “I’m an heiress, Sam, I really don’t need the payment or free lunch.” “That last part wasn’t a bribe, it’s a threat.” Lena scoffs, rolling her eyes as she fights a smile. “Fine. I’ll do your little modeling thing.”

Or: Lena's a med student, Kara's an artist, and somehow they still fall in love.

Author's Note: i did a writing test for work and i couldn't get my head to write original blorbos without an outline so i wrote supercorp instead and then changed the names so this is the og of that test (but longer bc i can't shut up about these idiots fr) oh also happy belated(??) valentines i guess! title from Kindling by Caitlyn Siehl and unbetaed for now (knowing me, the fic might get longer when i edit lol)

UPDATE: i edited :))) and added around 500+ words

ao3

valleys behind your kneecaps

Lena rarely ever gets time for herself.

It comes with the territory, she knows that. Being a med student means sacrificing a lot to become the doctor the Luthors have always expected of her.

It probably helps that her social life wasn’t all that affected.

Her grand total of three friends all understood the pressure she was under and the work she constantly has to do to stay on top. Still, that didn’t mean they didn’t force her to take a break every now and then.

Which is how Lena finds herself here, at Noonan’s, enjoying brunch with Sam on a sunny Thursday morning. Or, well, she was enjoying it until Sam gets a call from Ruby’s school and asks for a favor. A weird one.

“You want me to model for you?” Lena laughs, her sides cramping up. She laughs so hard she chokes on her kale and salmon salad. She laughs until she realizes that Sam isn’t laughing along. Until she realizes that Sam is dead serious.

“Oh.” Lena blinks, jaw clamping shut at Sam’s wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Lena, it’s in half an hour and they wouldn’t be able to find a replacement so last minute and you know how Ruby gets when I make her wait.”

“She gets it from you,” Lena scoffs, dusting nonexistent dirt off the spot next to her coffee. “Besides, shouldn’t I be coming along to check on Ruby’s health?”

“Okay, first of all, rude! Secondly, you’re a medical student training to be a surgeon, not a pedia.”

“It’s not like I don’t know enough of the basics to check on her.”

“No. The school nurse already gave her the all-clear she just needs to go home and rest. Now.” Sam clasps her hands together as she leans almost halfway over the table. “Will you please do this for me?”

“Sam—”

“I’ll never complain about your restaurant choices ever again, you can keep the modeling payment, and I’ll buy you lunch for two weeks straight.”

“I’m an heiress, Sam, I really don’t need the payment or free lunch.”

“That last part wasn’t a bribe, it’s a threat.”

Lena scoffs, rolling her eyes as she fights a smile. “Fine. I’ll do your little modeling thing.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sam drops a sloppy kiss on Lena’s forehead before she grabs her things, backing away with her purse in one hand and her phone in the other. “The class is in Studio C. Just tell the instructor I sent you! Thank you!”

Sam disappears out the doors before her last thank you even ends and Lena’s left alone with her half-eaten brunch and a sudden appointment to keep.

The things Lena does for her friends.

With a sigh, Lena finishes her salad and coffee before exiting the café that stood right across the cursed art studio. Sam had been modeling part-time for DEO Studio for almost two years now and had even invited Lena and their usual friend group (consisting of Jack and Andrea) to take some beginner’s classes for fun. Lena had never accepted the offer, of course, what with all the studying and hospital rounds she always had to do, but she’d always been supportive of her friend’s varying choice of part-time jobs (she kept trying to convince Sam to just ask for a raise, after all, she’d been the one to convince Lex to hire her, but Sam was too much of a wimp to negotiate with Lillian).

As Lena walks across the cracked, paved street and pushes open clear, glass doors, she wonders if she’s being a little too supportive this time.

The inside of the studio is clean and minimalist, brick walls painted white surrounds the space with a simple, wooden front desk greeting everyone who enters. A small waiting lounge is lined up in front of the studio’s towering glass windows and the walls have fewer paintings and pictures than Lena assumed there’d be in an art studio. A large, sculpted art piece stands off to the side to seemingly make up for the lack of them.

“Hello! Welcome to DEO Studio.” A young woman greets her from behind the desk. “Can I help you with anything?”

Lena shuffles towards the reception desk, the weight of Sam’s favor slowly starting to hit her. “Um, yes. My friend, Samantha Arias, had an emergency to take care of and asked me to sub-in for her modeling work today.”

Truly, the strangest, almost laughable sentence she’s ever said.

Lena?

A model?

Ha!

“Oh! Yes, I’m familiar with Sam. I’m Nia!” Nia stands to offer her a handshake and despite the nerves starting to creep into her chest, Lena takes it with all the poise of an heiress.

“Hi, Nia. Lena. Sam said that the class is in Studio C and that I should tell the instructor she sent me?”

“Yes, alright, let me lead you to the studio and I can explain the situation to the instructor.”

Nia circles around the desk to lead her down the entrance to the left and Lena follows with a soft, “Thank you so much.”

Lena folds her hands behind her back to keep them from twisting, a habit Lillian is still trying to fix. Instead, Lena focuses on the way the studio is laid out, channeling her nerves into taking stock of her surroundings. The hallways are as white and nondescript as the front room, but Lena takes note of the two photography studios and a sculpting studio that they pass before stopping at a nondescript glass door at the end of the hall.

Nia enters first and holds the door open for her to follow. When she enters, the first thing Lena notices is that while the room remains white, paintings and drawings and posters litter two free walls from floor to ceiling. One wall is covered with shelving, closets, cabinets, and a dressing room, neatly labeled with big, printed stickers, while a huge panel of windows cover the wall opposite the door. A small, raised platform stands in the middle of the room, far enough from the door to be difficult to see immediately but right in the middle of the well-lit room.

Seven easels circle the platform with three of the wooden chairs accompanying each easel already occupied by an artist setting up their sketchpad and materials. An eighth easel stands in the far left corner of the room, farthest from the windows and door, and has a tall, tan goddess standing next to it who seems occupied with organizing her own materials.

Lena is frozen at the sight of the woman, but Nia walks straight towards the Adonis of a blonde, exchanging a hushed conversation that includes a few glances her way that Lena uses as an excuse to politely take a look at the woman she assumes she’s working with.

The maybe-instructor is taller than her, looking down at Nia with a furrow between her blonde brows and an adorable tilt to her head. She wears cute, blocky glasses that frame eyes that, without even seeing them, Lena knows are gorgeous. Plump pink lips are twisted into a frown as the woman nods at whatever Nia is telling her. She’s dressed in a comfy-looking plaid button up, the sleeves rolled up tightly on her forearms and her biceps obviously straining under the cotton. Before Lena’s gaze can fall any lower, though, Nia and the maybe-instructor start walking her way and Lena’s breath catches as she finally gets a good look at the woman’s face.

Bright blue eyes crinkle adorably at the corners as a tan nose wrinkles over a welcoming grin. Lena is pretty sure the woman’s smile can stop wars. It was art in itself.

“Hi!” The woman of Lena’s dreams greets with an outstretched hand as they come to a stop in front of her. “Nia told me that you’re subbing in for Sam and I’m really thankful for the assist! I’m Kara, Kara Danvers.”

By some miracle, Lena’s brain manages to react before she can even fully process what’s happening. Her hand slipping into a warm, calloused one as she replies, “Lena. I’m happy to be here.”

“And we’re glad to have you!” Kara beams, her smile somehow brightening even more. “Follow me and I’ll show you what you’ll be doing for today’s class.”

Like a moth to a flame, Lena followed Kara through the studio, barely remembering to thank Nia for the guidance as Kara starts talking a mile a minute.

“So today’s class is an intermediate drawing class, so everyone’s used to working with a model already. We normally start every model-work class with quick line sketching before you have to do the whole sitting still for an hour thing.” Just when Lena thinks Kara’s finished her explanation, her eyes widen and she keeps going. “Oh! Did Sam tell you you’d have to be sitting still for this? It can feel kind of awkward and cramp-y at first but if you need any breaks you can just signal me and I can give you a minute or two to stretch but—”

“Kara.” Lena lays a hand on the art instructor’s strong, broad shoulder, realizing that if she continued to keep quiet then Kara will never stop. “I get it, it’s fine. And I’ve modeled before, kind of.”

Luthor Corp promotionals and Lillian’s constant need to showcase the perfect family image definitely counts as modeling in Lena’s book.

“Oh! Really? That’s so cool!” Kara seems to breathe a little easier at her touch. “Are you, like, a professional model or something?”

Lena laughs, flattered but also mystified. She knew she had some looks, as many of the wealthy creeps and paparazzi liked to remind her, but she was far from model material. Lillian made sure to remind her of that every time she was pictured out in public.

Still, the fact that Kara thinks so is sweet.

“No, I’m definitely not model material,” Lena shakes her head, smile wry and shoulders tight. “I’m a med student.”

Kara hums, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be all that fair if you were a model. You’d be too perfect. Beauty and brains? Definitely cheating.”

Heat blooms from Lena’s neck to her cheeks, Kara’s smile widening as blue eyes seem to trace every touch of pink on her face. Hoping to pull the attention away from her flaming cheeks, Lena ducks her head and asks, “So, what do I need to do first?”

The question seems to snap Kara back into work mode, because then, Lena’s being shown the different kinds of poses most class models go for before being offered a floor pillow or a chair to model on. Lena chooses the chair and only has enough time to thank Kara for carrying it to the platform before the class begins.

Introductions are made briefly at the start as Lena’s the only new person amongst the group, and then the actual class and modeling starts. Lena builds a rhythm with the warm up sketches, getting comfortable with quick poses and holding them for a minute before moving on to the next. The room is filled with the sound of pencil scratching paper and Lena feels the most relaxed she’s been in years.

There’s something freeing about being a small class model. She isn’t striking any kind of dramatic pose and yet every movement is art. Every slouch of her shoulders and stretch of her leg is something these people can turn beautiful.

(It also helps that Kara praises her after every pose, a warmth Lena refuses to name surrounding her from the inside out.)

A few minutes later, Kara moves to stand next to Lena on the platform with her sketchpad in hand and starts the actual drawing lessons. Lena finds herself captivated with the way Kara speaks, passionate and excited and bright. She watches sure, strong hands wave in every direction, blue eyes widening and narrowing with every explanation and example Kara gives. Eventually, Kara returns to her easel and calls for everyone to start drawing in detail, and Lena manages to fall into a pose sitting comfortably in the direction of the instructor herself.

She uses the position to give her an excuse to look Kara’s way. Watches blonde brows furrowing as Kara stares at her own sketchpad with a slight pout to her pink lips. Steady fingers make varying strokes on the paper as a slender wrist twists this way and that. It’s only a couple minutes later that Lena notices the constant rhythm of Kara’s pencil strokes suddenly still. Green eyes move from long fingers to broad shoulders to tilted lips and then sparkling blues.

Busted.

Kara seems amused at catching Lena staring, even a little pleased if Lena were to believe her imagination. But Lena was never much of a believer, so she put on her Luthor mask and pushed back her embarrassment at being caught, raising a challenging brow instead.

Kara only responds with a smug smile before diving back into her own drawing.

Lena lets out a shaky breath as the attention (or Kara’s attention, at least) shifts. She tries to return to her previous position and attempts to focus on the art scattering the wall.

She fails.

Green eyes unintentionally stray towards bright blue eyes and perfect blonde hair, and then the cycle repeats.

Lena stares.

She gets caught.

Kara smiles.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Fall.

By the time Kara finally calls for everyone to show their drawings, Lena almost feels as if they were flirting.

But why would a walking goddess flirt with her?

“Alright, class!” Kara claps her hands as Lena leans against one of the art-covered walls, finally free from sitting in the middle of the room. “Great work today! I can see that you’re all getting faster and some of you are even developing your own art styles. Keep practicing and I’ll see you all next week!”

The students all leave, none seemingly interested in staying behind for a chat but all giving Kara and Lena a quick glance as they leave.

(So maybe she threw subtle out the window after Kara caught her staring the first time. Sue her.)

Once the last student makes their way out, Kara steps off the platform and makes her way over, smile tilted on her pretty, pink lips.

“You stayed,” Kara’s voice is soft, breathy.

“Well,” Lena smiles, feels her chest warming at the way Kara says it. “I-” was hoping to ask you out. I think you’re super hot; here’s my number. I am so gay. All excellent and accurate choices, really, and yet the words that come out of Lena’s mouth are: “I wasn’t sure if you paid Sam after every class or every month.”

Kara’s eyes widen before a sheepish smile replaces it and suddenly Lena feels like she’s fucked up. “Oh, I almost forgot. I mean, I didn’t! I never forget to pay Sam. Fair pay! Y’know? Um, just, sorry, the modeling payment’s usually with Nia or J’onn.”

Lena feels the warmth start to fade as Kara takes a noticeable step back. Oh. Fuck.

“Wait!” Lena winces at the volume of her own voice but lets out a breath as she watches Kara freeze. “Sorry, I meant, um, I don’t need the payment right now. Or ever, really.”

Kara’s brows furrow as Lena tries to sort through her thoughts. “Well that doesn’t sound fair, Lena. We make it a practice to pay everyone who works for us. I’m pretty sure it’s both unethical and illegal to not pay your employees and when you model for us, you’re technically like a freelance employee. So we’ll obviously pay you for your time.”

“Kara?” Lena rushes in the second Kara pauses for a breath.

“Yeah?”

“I understand the legal requirements and all, but I did this as a favor for a friend, so what I meant was that you can keep the payment and give it to Sam, instead.” Lena smiles, aiming for reassuring. “I don’t need the money, and, honestly, the payment thing wasn’t what I really wanted to say.”

Kara sucks in a breath at the admission, blue eyes wide as a hopeful look crosses her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lena sucks in a breath, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she tries to pluck any semblance of courage to ask a ridiculously gorgeous girl out.

“I really liked your lesson,” Lena starts, far from what she was hoping to say but a start nonetheless.

“Thanks,” Kara smiles, earnest but a little confused. “You did great for a non-professional model.”

Lena chuckles in reply, smile crooked as she tries to bite it down. “Thanks. I had some high expectations to meet.”

“Well, consider them met.”

And Kara’s so sincere, so cute as she stuffs her pencil-smudged hands into her pockets, that Lena decides, fuck it. What does she have to lose? She can ask Kara out and get a date or simply avoid the woman for the rest of her life. Easy.

“Kara,” Lena lets out a breath, green eyes glued to the paint splatter stuck on Kara’s faded sneakers. “I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee some time.”

The words on a date are stuck in her throat, but Lena considers it a big enough win that she asked at all. So she waits, lungs frozen and heart drumming in her chest for a rejection she expects and a miracle she hopes for. She’s focusing on keeping her breathing steady when a warm hand envelopes hers. Slowly, she looks up to find Kara beaming, a smile brighter than every single smile Kara’s given her today combined, blonde waves bouncing up and down excitedly.

“I’d love to have coffee with you some time.” Lena feels Kara’s hand squeeze hers gently before blue eyes crinkle further as Kara’s smile widens impossibly brighter. “But only on one condition.”

“Anything.” Lena says. Everything, she thinks.

Kara leans in closer, close enough that Lena can tell each shade of blue in her eyes. “Can coffee be a date?”

And Lena laughs, because yes. Yes. “I’d love nothing more.”

#cw supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fic #my writing #the prompt was for a student doctor to meet the 'love of their life' in an art studio for the test and my brain went 'that's supercorp'#it's ass o clock in the morning here and i have work in a couple hours so i'll edit later this evening if i finish work early hahahaha #idk how i feel about this the flow doesn't seem smooth to me but! easily fixable for a more coherent brain so #enjoy!!#UPDATE: edited!#queer bread writes

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sopejinsunflower · 2 years

Text

2022.001.001: Through the Glass

I live in an old manor in the middle of nowhere and it’s not half as bad as I thought it would be.

Long story short, a grandaunt who I have never met but had been under the relative list my whole childhood while I lived at a foster group home, had died and willed all of her inheritance to me with the condition that I live here for at least a year before I can have the freedom to do as I please with it. According to the market value, the manor along with its acres of land, would set me up for life should I decide to sell it later so here I am. Not a bad arrangement.

The house comes with an old housekeeper, a cook and a gardener and for the most part, they leave me alone. Because of this arrangement, I quit my job and am currently doing my masters full time, and with the pandemic suddenly happening and the whole world under lockdown, I’m mostly stuck in this place doing online classes with a very shitty internet. But every month, like clockwork, for as long as I live in this Solomon’s Manor, a large amount of money (I won’t say how much for safety reasons) appear in my bank account and will continue to do so until the year is up, and then, as per the agreement, I will get the rest of the inheritance, assets and everything in between that my mysterious yet generous grandaunt had left behind. Perks of being each other’s only living kin, I guess.

Why was I in foster care instead of with my grandaunt? Well, I was told by the lawyer that contacted me that she travels a lot for work and a kid would not have fit in her very busy schedule. I’m not exactly sure what her work was because even the social workers seemed confused but it’s along the lines of archeologist and researcher and tomb raider. Apparently she travels all around the world finding and collecting things, most of them old stuff. The house is three floors but the third floor is closed off and from what I understand from the very little conversation I have with the mousy housekeeper, it’s where my grandaunt’s trinkets and trophies are stored. No one is allowed up there but it’s not like there’s a whole heavy lock and key and a bodyguard that keeps an eye on the third floor; just an old dresser blocking the stairway.

I have about one or two classes a day from Monday to Thursday and being unable to go anywhere, I’m mostly battling the crippling almost insane boredom that comes with living in a huge house with no one else to talk to and nothing to do. So the third floor is my playground. It being a restricted part of the house doesn’t exclude it from being taken care of, albeit just the hallways. I started exploring on the third day after my arrival, jumping over the dresser and creeping up the carpeted stairs easily.

Like the second floor, the third floor also has twelve rooms, all closed but none locked. All of them are full with all sorts of artefacts that looked like they belong in a museum, from huge hieroglyphic vases to old, creepy paintings to a variety of dangerous mediaeval tools and weapons. There were books in all languages, each one older than the next, some even in glass cases, some in writings that didn’t look like any language I’ve ever seen. It took me a week to go through all of the rooms just to look at the stuff; some rooms the doors were blocked by how overflowing the room was. It took me another week to sort out categories: arts, books, documents and scriptures, armoury and tools, vases (it needed its own category by how many there were), Chinawares, silverwares, tapestries, and miscellaneous.

By the third week, I had a fifty-paged list of the items that are on the third floor and the bulk of it were in the first two categories and miscellaneous. During my little exploration, I learnt a little more about the house itself. The manor’s first floor has floor-to-ceiling windows on all four sides, two each on one wall. They lined either side of the wall with stained-glass panes in the shape of the Sailor’s celtic knot in moss green that run the length of the window. It’s actually quite pretty if you look from the outside. Google tells me that the knot represents an eternal bond, unbroken by time.

This place itself is called Solomon’s Manor and according to a simple painting in the foyer that was meant to show the estate, it looks like the house is at the centre of what looked like a natural Solomon’s knot in the lay of the land. I guess my grandaunt was a total romantic but as far as I know, there was no husband nor children. To keep up with the celtic knot theme, there is an oak wall decor in the shape of the celtic spiral knot above the fireplace in the main room downstairs. It became a private game with myself to try and find these knots throughout the house and I realised that the sailor knot was carved on the sides of the bannisters, too.

By the end of the first month living here, with all of the twelve rooms explored and categorised. and having nothing else to do, I wandered the hallway a little further down than usual with the thought of wanting to look out the small window down the hall. It would have given me a great view of the back land but that was when I found the little trapdoor to the attic.

I had to jump to reach the dangling rope to pull down the ladder, pausing to wait for the dust to rain down on me when the ladder unfolded noiselessly. Hm, no dust. I climbed the ladder and noticed another celtic knot on the surface of the trapdoor; an Anam Cara, a love knot. I traced the shape with my finger before pushing open the trapdoor. The first thing I noticed after climbing through was the bunk beds in one corner, two of them put end to end. In the opposite corner was another bunk bed, this one with a queen on the bottom part. The beds were all made pristine, the corners tucked into sharp edges

I looked around the room. Other than the beds, the room is set with desks and chairs and cupboards, enough for seven people. There’s a three-set sofa and beanbags on one side of the room. A small door in the corner led to a small shower room with a toilet, the tiles dry. Upon closer look, there’s only a light layer of dust on all the surfaces, making me think that someone is taking care of this room albeit not often. The late afternoon sunlight coming through the one and only window highlighted the dust swirling in the air as I walked around the room inspecting. I opened the cupboards and all of them had men’s clothes in them, each with a different style. Did my grandaunt actually have sons? Where are they now?

I stood in the middle of the room, turning in a slow circle to try and see if there was anything that could give me a clue as to what had happened to the residents that used to live here. But there was nothing, other than the place looking like a typical dormitory hostel that had never had any guests in a long while. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder about the people who used to live in this room. In that moment when my mind wanders about the room’s former residence, a chill creeps down the back of my neck. It felt like the temperature dropped and goosebumps ran down my arms that I rubbed my hands over them. Drafts, I think. It’s an old house anyway. I shrugged and walked over to the small, round window spilling in sunlight, hoping that would warm me up a bit.

Out this small window, I could see most of the back side of the house and the land up to where the edges are, marked by this long chest-high cobbled wall that runs all around the property. Most of the land is woods but some parts are only tall grasses with a small creek that runs down from the nearest mountain, through the woodlands and across the property. I haven’t had the time to explore the land around the house yet except to go down to the creek. I could see the sparkling water from here.

As my vision focused on my own reflection in the window, something else came into focus that made my blood run cold. Through the reflection in the glass, I could see what looked like figures standing behind me, all dressed in a white flowy shirt, their faces obscured due to the sun in my eyes. I whipped around so fast my neck gave out the loudest crack but found myself staring at an empty room, breathing heavily as my heart pounded in my chest. The dust motes swirl in the air, the silence palpable. My eyes roamed around the room in a panic trying to find any traces of there having been someone, anyone, in the room with me but nothing.

Then the sun disappeared behind a thick cloud and the room grew dimmer and even colder. I didn’t wait any longer but slowly, and as calmly as I could, walked towards the trapdoor and climbed down, not even bothering to lower the trapdoor quietly, letting it fall back down with an obvious thud. I kicked the folding ladder back up, bolting down the hallway with my head half-turned to make sure nothing was chasing me. I jumped around the dresser at the bottom of the stairs and came face to face with Mrs Oliviera, the housekeeper.

She hadn’t been pleased to know I had been up on the forbidden floor but she didn’t need to know that that wasn’t my first time breaking rules. After escorting me back to my room, she insisted that I should not, under any circumstances, go back upstairs.

“It’s very dangerous,” she said, eyebrows furrowed so deep they merged together. “Many dangerous things up there. You should not go up there again lest you will be cursed!”

I only nodded in return and it satisfied her enough that she went on her way with one last withering look at me. Her warnings didn’t matter. What happened earlier scared me enough that I never visited upstairs for another couple of weeks, deciding that there was nothing left to explore or to add to my stupid, useless list. During that couple of weeks, I focused on my classes and assignments. I would be lying if I didn’t think about the incident almost every night before bed, wondering what it was that I had seen. Maybe nothing, just a trick of the lights or my active imagination. The more days passed, the more convinced I became that that was what it was.

One afternoon, I was outside on the grounds taking a walk with an apple in hand. It was a beautiful late spring day and I could see the gardener mowing the lawn on one side of the house. I walked all the way down to the creek and sat down on a stump. Munching on my apple, I could see small fish in the water, dancing around chasing each other and making small ripples on the surface water. Ahead of me was the house. Against my own will, my eyes were attracted to the topmost window, the one in the corner just below the shingles, staring at it as if I was expecting something to happen.

Instead of anything happening, I had this growing feeling of being watched right back, like there was someone on the other side of that glass pane looking back at me. My chest grew tight and I was trying not to panic over nothing and counted to ten before I slowly looked away. I lost my appetite and threw the half-eaten apple into the water. I wished I could ask about that room to Mrs Oliviera who seemed to be the longest employee of the house but asking would prove that I have been up there when I had been warned not to. It also made me wonder why I was told to live here for a year when half the house is restricted with little to no information whatsoever.

I stood up, brushing the butt of my jeans. The mystery of it all was nagging at me and I decided that I was going to go up there one more time, to see if I can find out more about whose stuff were left behind and, hopefully, where they were now. I walked towards the house, all the while feeling eyes on me the whole way back.

~~~

“Do you think she really saw us?”

When you finally disappear out of sight, Hoseok finally turns away from the window to look at Jungkook sitting on the edge of the queen bottom bunk bed, a hopeful look on his face. He sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Kookie. I hope so.”

“I don’t think she’ll be back,” Taehyung scoffs from behind Jungkook, laying down and staring at the bottom part of the bed above him. “Think she got scared.”

Jin laughs. He’s sitting at one of the desks with Yoongi, playing cards and he’s winning. “I can still remember the way she ran down the ladder. Never seen someone moved that fast.”

“Come on,” says Yoongi without looking up from his cards. “It was lucky for us that the poor girl didn’t get a heart attack. She could’ve hurt herself.”

Jimin sighs and stands up, pacing the floor. “She looked like she didn’t expect it.” Then he looks up at Hoseok, forehead creasing. “You don’t think that the old gal forgot to tell her, do you?”

Hoseok only returns Jimin’s gaze coolly, easily communicating that yes, he does think so. Namjoon groans from the floor, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. He’s laid down like a starfish on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. “What are we going to do?” he wails.

“We’re going to be stuck here for decades,” Jimin says with a pout. “Again.”

“There must be something we can do,” calls out Jungkook, eyes wide and wet. “I don’t want to be stuck here forever.”

Hoseok lets out a heavy sigh and goes to sit in one of the chairs to watch Yoongi’s and Jin’s card game. “I don’t either. We just have to wait. She’ll be back.”

“How do you know that?” asks Taehyung, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Hoseok. “That old hag could get in the way.”

Hoseok grins at him. “The housekeeper won’t be able to do much, Tae. Don’t worry about it. Remember the first time we met Soon-hee?” The others chuckle lightly, some nodding to indicate that they do. “She’ll definitely be back.”

Jin slaps down his last card, winning the game of whatever they were playing. Yoongi just looks relieved the game is over. “I really hope that this is it,” Yoongi says as he stretches in his chair.

Jin links his hands behind his head. “I have a good feeling about this one.”

Namjoon sits up abruptly. “This time, we have to play fair.”

They all exchange knowing looks with each other, none saying a word. They remain quiet the rest of the day, staring pensively at some random spots or other, hoping and praying that somehow you will find the courage to come and pay them another visit, preferably at night.

As the sun sets beyond the horizon outside and a red dusk falls over Solomon’s Manor, the seven men in the attic watch patiently as their own skin starts to materialise into more solid forms, the translucence filling up as gravity grounds the seven pairs of feet more firmly onto the carpeted floor.

Downstairs, while you eat alone in the large dining hall, in a small nook of the kitchen where you have never been and not allowed to be, the cook has just finished setting up the dumbwaiter, making sure none of the food spills on their way up. He signals the housekeeper on the third floor via a small bell system that runs throughout the house and closes the lift door shut. He presses the button and watches the old lift shudder its way up.

Mrs Oliviera waits patiently on the third floor in the hallway where the dumbwaiter arrives. She takes out the food and puts them onto her cart before wheeling them safely towards the attic trapdoor. It takes a lot to transfer the food one by one without making as much as an eye contact and when she finishes, she hurriedly closes the door and folds the ladder back up.

She leaves the third floor via a hidden passage used by the servants in the old days without another backward glance, whispering prayers of protection under her breath.

~~~

I had heard the sound of the dumbwaiter in the walls but didn’t know what it was. It’s an old house with creaky floors and even noisy plumbing sometimes, especially at night. I didn’t question it as I ate dinner.

All I had on my mind that night was to go back upstairs, back to the attic to see if I can find out more about that room and whoever used to live there. Tomorrow, I thought, determined. Tomorrow when it’s light I’ll go again.

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