#it felt like I had grown up attempting to use a foreign language - but writing felt natural. I could say what I meant and it came out RIGHT

[muzzlemouths]

🤲

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

I really struggled with answering this one because I'm not sure how to put it into words. I've always been writing - my whole life, even during those years I was convinced I should quit - all I thought about was writing.

From the earliest days it brought me comfort when no one and nothing else could, its always been a safe way to vent and express myself, it helps me work through emotions when I don't understand them any other way, and it brings me inarticulable joy to speak fluently on pen when my mouth fails me.

I've been eat sleep and breathing this media for as long as I could hold a pencil and at this point it's just a part of who I am, I can't imagine myself without it. I know that's super dramatic, but I can't express it any other way. It's really, truly important to me.

[bjarkanart]

Heya! Since I haven't been able to draw much in the last couple of weeks, I took some time to write a bit and finally decided to go for multiple chapters cause I'm a really slow writer so I posted the first chapter of my Death Stranding AU Imodna fic, I hope it's at least decent...

Here's a little snippet. The rest is up on Ao3, let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 🙏

Most people who knew her in Gelvaan would say that Imogen Temult was strange. With her purple hair and lightning scars, the fact that she could hear their thoughts and talk in their heads if she so chose, and sometimes hearing her screaming in the middle of the night if they passed her room, it only made sense for them to be wary of her and try not to get close.

Imogen knew what people said and thought about her, so she tried to avoid them as much as they tried to avoid her, which was hard to do when everyone lived piled up underground like a colony of ants.

 

When she was a kid, Imogen would always try to help someone out, always curious, always with a smile on her face. And people didn't treat her differently from the other kids at the time.

Then, something shifted.

Her father grew distant the more she grew up and Imogen had no idea why. She had tried to ask him. Tried to understand. But her countless attempts at trying to get an explanation from him only ever ended in disappointment and hurt the more she pushed the matter. 

She stopped trying to get answers from him when the word "daddy" started leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The once soothing term of endearment sounded like an anomaly or a foreign language even to her, as every time she spoke the word out loud, it was met with silence. Imogen had grown tired of running after a man who felt more and more like a stranger she just happened to be sharing an apartment with.

Imogen was fifteen she was diagnosed with DOOMS and when the nightmares started.

Dreams of a red storm engulfing a town in the distance she had never seen before. Destroying everything in its wake as red lightning struck trees, splitting them in half. A tornado snatching houses from the ground and hauling them in the air to be blown away and far beyond the horizon. The wind was blasting all around her, deafening, overwhelming, spraying dust over her face and forcing her to squint with no clue on where she was supposed to go. She just knew she had to get away from the storm. Then a woman's voice would echo in her mind, telling her to run, repeatedly, every time she had that dream.

Imogen didn’t know that voice. But somehow, something in her gut told her it was her mother's, it had to be. But why was she so certain of it? She didn't know. She couldn't remember her mother. But still, she would always instinctively listen to her and run, run as far as her feet would carry her, as far from the storm as possible.

And Imogen would wake up panting or screaming and in a cold sweat. Chills running down her spine as she tried to comprehend why she kept having those strange dreams and what they meant. If they even had a meaning to begin with. Were they connected to her powers or did they have anything to do with her DOOMS since the condition made her more connected to the other side? She had dreamed of a few people she knew walking into the storm, to then learn of their passing the next day but had chosen to never share this information. People were cautious enough around her; she didn't need them to know she could tell when someone was going to die.

She also wondered if the place she saw in her dreams was maybe a memory of what Gelvaan used to be. But it didn’t make sense to her. She had never known a life before all this. 

Before the explosions. 

Before the craters. 

Before the Death Stranding.

***

There you go!

[maskedbeliever]

Hehe what is smut but an excuse for gratuitous amounts of world building

I fucking love those ideas , renfields as an adaption to certain environments ( I’m guessing it would favour higher human population areas myself but that’s just my take) makes sense to me , humans will attempt to pack bond with a rock we’re certainly risk taking enough to attempt a negotiation with the local apex predator to get it to eat throg in the cave over the other side of the valley, I’d be willing to bet some vampires would play ball if food availability wasn’t the most pressing issue.

Vampires are people despite being horrifying monsters from our perspective ( without watering down the horror) is somthing i really loved from the original books as well it’s one of the things I enjoyed about the Valerie - brüks interactions, you get to watch his reactions as a shit scared prey animal only able to consider her actions from the angle of “all this thing thinks about all day every day is hurting me” but also consider other motives than “ to rustle human jimmies” . Like I think her behavior at the end in the desert was sort of an attempt at affection- obviously to manipulate him into staying where she wanted him and weird even for a vampire because she got raised in a lab but I think it shows that vampires are at least capable of it as their own thing rather than just pure imitation.

Anyway sorry this went all over the place, that outline sounds really great I really hope it works out .

I'm glad you like the idea! I've had such fun playing with it but totally got off the rails in the worldbuilding.

I really feel bad for the vampires in the books because baseline humans look at them and think "how can this person disrupt my life/my community/my society?" instead of "how can I make space in my life/community/society for this person?"

Like in Valerie's case I don't think there would be any reason to think she would be a violent person if she had been given the means to lead a life that let her pursue all kinds of interests and relationships. We never get to see a vampire character who has any kind of family or friends, it totally sucks for them.

I was originally thinking of just writing something quick and dirty but like so many people before me, I got too invested in backstories and characters.

Here's a chunk I've written that I like. The character names--Cyrus for the vampire and Danielle for the woman--are both placeholders unless I end up liking them a lot.

"You begin this attraction when you're still very young," he said. He'd always avoided acknowledging it, but she was grown and he could no longer hide from her affections.

"Well, I was always interested in you."

"I'm interesting," he admitted, a little smug. "But this is attraction. Am I attractive?"

He knew the answer already. "Well I think so," she said. His long fingers touched her cheek and her neck. It didn't bother him when strange humans were tense around him, but it never made him feel good, either. But a calm human? This woman showing him that his presence could be a source of ease or happy excitement? That felt miraculous.

Cyrus' academic curiosity was intense enough that if he left it unchecked, it would derail any ability to flirt. He surrendered to it for just a moment. "When do you first decide that I am attractive? Why?"

"Probably when I was about eleven, some time during the divorce," she said. Danielle brought a hand up to her face to shield her mouth in embarrassment of something she had not yet shared. "I found videos of you giving presentations. I thought you had a sexy accent."

He laughed. Vampires' mouths and throats were shaped just differently enough to make some sounds difficult in many languages. In baseline humans it would have been called a speech impediment. Combined with his refusal to use the past tense unless writing for publication, he sounded like he might have learned English later in life. "You think I'm foreign?"

She covered more of her reddening face. "I know! It's ridiculous. But I thought you were like some kind of European or something!"

All of his teeth showed when he leaned his head back and laughed again. "It's not the first time I hear this. There is a discussion among the vampiro-linguists about how to describe it and some people say vampire accent."

"Well, I don't know about other vampires," she said. Other vampires still had the capacity to unsettle her. "But when you talk, it's hot."

I think this makes a little more sense if you've heard the blindsight and echopraxia audiobooks, where the reader gives Sarasti and Valerie what really does sound like an accent, but even if you just go by the text they do speak strangely enough that they could be mistaken as non-native english speakers.

[lokiskitten]

Loki Laufeyson | a little miracle

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : After getting banned from Asgard, Loki found shelter in your home. You two easily grew closer as time passed, engaging in a long term relationship without you ever being able to carry his child due to the none-matching genetics. During Christmas Eve, you and the demigod stumble upon an abandoned baby on the steps of your porch.

warnings : mention of nudity and child abandon.

The 24th of December marked a rather cold and ruthless evening. The sun had set low hours ago, which allowed you and your long term love interest to spend a delightful night whilst having dinner nowhere far from the soothing sound and warmth which erupted from the working chimney. Even if he often criticized midgardian food, Loki had made an effort to worship your roasted chicken which in fact resembled what he used to eat every day whenever he still was allowed on the lands of Asgard. The man would often tell you about the nice adventures he had had the pleasure to experience, whilst also verbally exploring the many beauties that carried his homeland.

Of course, you never seemed to get tired of hearing his stories. His arrival in your life had offered you well needed company, especially as you lived far from the city; in a little country house within a low populated village. Besides, he was also the most interesting and intelligent man you ever got to meet. No matter how many bad actions you knew he had committed, your heart still managed to hold a special place for Loki within your chest. Often, you would reassure his anxiety by claiming that everyone deserves another chance. Long story short : you felt overly grateful that he was now here to keep you safe and sound.

After dinner, the two of you had moved to the couch before the chimney, easily getting rid of your clothes and engaging in a never ending cuddle- the type of snuggles that you liked the best : skin to skin. Feeling his warmth against yours made the fire from the chimney appear irrelevant, and the sweet caresses he offered your sensitive body felt better than any silk sheets anyone could ever dream to possess. These kind of moments were never about sex, but always about sharing a special and dedicated contact with the man you had fallen in love with. Surely the two of you often allowed yourselves to spend some sexually pleasurable time together, but those kind of cuddles overcame any of these private intercourses.

His lips collided against yours in a smooth manner, both of your respective eyelids remaining closed as his naked body rested between your legs. You never grew tired of those motions, your organism constantly begging for more and reacting to any touch coming from your partner. His hips rocked against yours just so slightly, the dry humping being part of the overall loving mannerisms. And right now, it was enough to satisfy you. However, an unwelcome detail managed to flash itself back into your mind, pulling you out of the romantic moment you were attempting to spend with Loki. Opening your eyes, you allowed your palms to rest against his shoulders in order to stop him through his motions.

“I forgot to turn off the candle on the porch..” you murmured, earning a tired groan coming from the large man. “I won’t be long.” You affirmed after you had laid a loving kiss on his cheek, watching as the demigod sat up in order to allow you to shift off the couch. Your hand reached out for your sweater and panties, putting both of those pieces of clothing back on before lazily making your way until the front door. Scratching the back of your neck, you finally pushed open the door of your house before taking a step forward in order to be able to put your hand on the candle. However, your foot stumbled upon a foreign mass, easily leading you to step back out of surprise as unhappy cries began to escape the layers of dirty drapes.

Your hand landed against your chest, orbs starring down at the scary sight that you wish wasn’t what you thought it was. However, it undeniably was and remained an abandoned baby resting on your porch. Your first reflex was to seek for any silhouette lurking within the darkness of the snowy night, eyes squinting as you attempted to distinguish the potential parents of this child. “Hello?!” Fear echoed in your voice, though you soon gave up on trying to figure out who had left this child here as you couldn’t tell for how long this poor baby had been laying on your doorstep- which allowed you to jump to the conclusion that those gruesome individuals were probably gone and far by now.

You looked back down at the newborn who now only allowed a few tired whimpers to escape their lips, body crouching down so that your hands would be able to remove the layer of sheet which covered their face. Upon being revealed to the light, a new whine echoed throughout your ears, your empathetic self feeling sorrow invade your organism. You picked up the baby with a lot of care, face still diverted towards their grimacing one right before Loki finally made an apparition behind your silhouette. “What’s taking your so long-“ he began to ask, the smile on his face fading away as soon as you turned around and revealed the child to his bare eyes.

“Where did you find this?” He asked on a tensed tone, visibly not appearing too happy about seeing you carry a foreign toddler. “I found it on our porch. Someone must’ve left him there...” you admitted on a sorrowful tone, looking down at the little piece of sunshine who clearly didn’t deserve to be in the situation they were in. Your empathetic self couldn’t even believe that people still did those kind of things nowadays. It disgusted you to even think of it. “Put it back.” Loki demanded, earning a confused yet absolutely irritated stare coming from you. “Are you mental? I told you I found it right here. Who am I supposed to return this child to?” You answered sadly, feeling more than shocked by your partner’s inappropriate and rude behavior.

Loki looked down at the baby’s face, earning a few gasps from the newborn who kept their eyes closed. No form of care nor empathy seemed to show on the grown man’s face- which once again was a detail that left you speechless. “We can’t leave it there. Poor thing would freeze to death.” You affirmed whilst gently rocking the baby in order to make sure it would stay calm and sleepy. Loki remained silent for a couple of seconds, his mind probably trying to find a good response to your previous statement. “What if.. what if we kept it?” You suddenly offered, looking up at your lover who simply scoffed as a response. “Keep it? This isn’t a fairytail. You can’t just keep a child like this.” Loki answered harshly. Currently, if both of your arms haven’t been required to carry the toddler, the demigod would’ve probably earned a slap across his face.

“You’ll bring him to the authorities tomorrow. Now let’s get inside.” Loki ordered, turning back around as he began to take a few steps forward in order to join the warmth of the house. However, you stopped in front of the doorstep. “Why are you acting like this? This isn’t like you.” You accused sadly, your arms still patiently rocking the child. The truth was, this situation simply reminded Loki of his own past- how Odin had found him abandoned on a rock on Jotunheim. He had suffered due to his new environment mixing up with who he truly was, and didn’t wish to put anyone through the same bother he once had to go through. “Everyone deserves a chance.” You suddenly affirmed, causing the demigod to stop through his track. This statement struck him right through his heart.

Your eyes anxiously stared at his back, waiting for an answer coming from your partner who had decided to behave so harshly. Loki finally ended up turning around, green eyes making contact with yours as he slowly began to make his way back to you. Face to his silence, your anxious self couldn’t help but add a few decisive words. “It’s the child we’ve always wanted. It’s a.. miracle.” You affirmed sadly, feeling tears fill up your orbs at the thought of finally being able to look after a child of your own. Of course, Loki knew how much this topic meant to you, and that even if he had never planned to have children of his own before stumbling upon you and your desires. But in that child, he couldn’t help but see himself.

Patiently, the demigod accepted to take a new look down at the baby who now had their eyes open, a gentle whimper escaping their lips upon making eye contact with the adult male. Loki took the initiative to take the toddler out of your arms, carrying it in his own limbs without ever speaking a word as he made his way towards the chimney. The demigod had began to gently rock the toddler, looking down at them and allowing the baby to toy with his long strands of black locks whilst he patiently sang to them in that beautiful Asgardian language of his. He kept a low tone, making sure not to scare the baby without ever breaking the eye contact he had engaged with the toddler.

Leaning against the entrance of the living room, you finally allowed yourself to smile out of relief face to this soothing sight. This was everything you’ve ever wanted : seeing Loki carry a child, and that even if it wasn’t necessarily yours. No matter where this baby came from, this house would now become his home.

AHHH thank you so much for 1000 followers!!!!! I couldn’t feel more grateful. For the occasion, I had to write something for you guys. It’s different from what y’all probably have the habit to read, but I hope it was enjoyable to read still! Love you and take care!!! Special tag for @seasexnsun who turned out to be my 1000th follower!

[obae-me]

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

I’m still learning how I best want to write the Undateables, so I’m sorry if they’re a bit lacking. This was really wholesome to write, thank you for your request! 💜

Lucifer

When first summoned down to the Devildom, MC looked more disoriented than he would’ve expected. “Where am I? Who are you guys?” They hadn’t managed to look at Diavolo yet, even while he was speaking to them. They already put him in a bad mood.

“Didn’t you learn its bad manners to ignore the people that are talking to you? Look at Lord Diavolo while he’s speaking.” Lucifer growled, leaving MC with an exasperated expression.

“I’m BLIND.”

Error.

They were blind?? Humans were so fragile that they could just lose their eyesight?? Permanently?! He’s already got several new grey hairs. He’d have to entirely change up the house, he’d need to have someone with them at all times. How would they read? How would they get school work done?

MC has to explain to him that they’ve been this way for a long time, so they can handle themselves. They’ll have to tell him about things they use to help them out, like a cane for starters. They’ll tell him later how they best do schoolwork, but he’s already busy contacting someone about a cane.

It doesn’t matter what MC says, he now feels obligated to keep them under his watch as much as possible. He’s responsible for keeping them safe after all, and he can’t feel relaxed until he can confirm that they’re okay.

Although he did find out that MC was as talkative and feisty as a human could be. If things went too quiet they’d quickly fill up the empty space with chatter. Not to mention anytime he, or any demon for that matter, went into demon form, the intimidation factor was lost. MC never budged. They didn’t mind standing up to him, which annoyed him greatly, but absolutely blew his mind. How such a tiny human, who didn’t have a major part of functioning, could easily stand up to a demon was beyond him.

When MC first asked if it was okay to ‘see’ him, he had no idea what they meant, but was curious to see where it would lead. He wasn’t aware that MC knew any magic. He didn’t expect MC to come over and gently touch his face, running their fingers gingerly over his features. MC politely asked if he could show his true self, and he agreed. MC drifted their way up to his horns, feeling the texture and shape. They had an expression of awe on their face, probably because they now knew that it was real, he wasn’t human. They struggled to find these supposed wings of his, and with one of his gloved hands, Lucifer took their wrist and guided MC along. They made a little gasp as the feathers brushed against their skin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, his demon form was supposed to strike shock and fear into people. He was supposed to be respected. He was supposed to be above this. So how was it he was sitting here, MC running their hands all over him, and he was the one who was shocked and speechless. He hated how MC had lost their eyesight, but in this one moment he was grateful that they couldn’t see his reddened face with such an embarrassing expression plastered over it.

Mammon

“What do you mean they can’t see? It’s not that dark in the Devildom. Oi, human, just open your eyes, don’t you know how seeing works?!...Oh...Oooh...”

He had a less than grand first impression when he first met MC, and to be honest, it kept getting worse before it got better. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He tried asking Lucifer if they could get a different human, one that wasn’t broken. He must’ve somehow thought that whispering from only about a foot away would keep MC from hearing him.

He didn’t get a different human, he was stuck with them, and he was going to receive a particularly severe punishment that night for how poorly he treated MC. He was in a bad mood, not to mention out of his mind with panic.

“I don’t know what to do with people who can’t see? Can we fix ya? Surely there’s some magic here that’ll make you good as new!”

He tried spells, he tried potions, he even paid a fortune to one of the Devildom’s best doctors. None of his antics worked, and out of all the brothers, Mammon took the longest to process that this was how MC was. It was a part of them. They would be like this forever.

He’ll stay by their side constantly, escorting them by the arm and hand, talking their ear off about this and that to keep them distracted. It causes MC to laugh about it every time. Who needs a seeing eye dog when you’ve got a wonderfully trained seeing eye Mammon. Sometimes he would even pick them up to go up and down stairs if he felt they would be too dangerous.

Anytime they’re at any sort of store, MC will have to touch almost everything, and if their hands brush across anything they like, even if only for it’s tactile nature, Mammon will buy it for them at the drop of a hat. It’ll drive Lucifer a bit crazy over the fact that MC won’t ever have a need for most of the things Mammon buys, but he’ll not bother them about it if he sees it makes MC happy even just to hold it.

MC is super talkative, but it’s typically just to fill empty dark space and make things seem more comfortable, but when they’re with Mammon, they don’t need to say a word. He does all the talking, and MC’s grown accustomed to the sound of his voice. It’s so different from his other brothers, the mannerisms he uses and the slight accent to it. Mammon still doesn’t realize that, for this reason, MC can single him out among the crowds at RAD, or how Mammon can never seem to sneak up on them. MC loves how loud he is. No matter how quiet he tries being, MC can always pick him out of the darkness, for them, he’s always there. Mammon will never say it, but he loves how his human knows him apart from everyone else.

Levi

“Huh, so you don’t watch anime, what a typical normie.”

“I actually can’t watch anything, just for your information.”

Fatality.

He knows the concept of blindness from anime and manga, but it almost seemed as foreign to him as magic seemed to MC. Typically in the stories he saw, it was never permanent, always the cause of some curse or spell or even a fight! MC had gone through none of that, it was what it was.

He almost found it relaxing for a moment, because he felt a bit more confident in himself. MC couldn’t see what an ugly shut-in looked like. However, his moods were quickly dashed when MC tripped over an empty can he had lying on the floor. He caught them from falling but quickly went into a state of despair. He was a dirty trashy shut-in. Lucifer would later find that Levi now had his room clean of trash at all times, his floor spotless.

Levi would absolutely cry, and I mean cry, over the fact that MC would never be able to fully enjoy anime or manga or video games. They could maybe enjoy some Dubbed shows but it wouldn’t be the same. If MC hangs out with him, Levi will give them the full commentator experience. He’ll explain what’s going on in his games or shows in hopes MC can still enjoy his favorite form of entertainment.

The first time in his Demon form, MC stepped on his tail in attempt to get to his wings. He yelped in shock. MC was vastly confused. What was that? Where was his wings? Lucifer and Mammon had wings so where were his? He hated being compared to them like that. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t look nearly as intimidating. No he didn’t have wings, he just has this clunky ugly tail. MC grabbed his tail, making him turn bright red. They ran their fingers over his scales, petting it, pulling it out to see how long it was. MC endlessly talked about how cool it was, and how it felt amazing to touch. Lucifer and Mammon didn’t have a tail. Levi never felt envious of not having wings ever again.

Satan

He can’t believe his brothers didn’t know that humans were capable of being blind. They were extremely fragile creatures but somehow were heartier and more stubborn than they looked, capable of thriving despite everything they go through.

He didn’t know everything about being blind, since it never seemed to come up often enough for him to need to learn about. So you can bet that in just the first few days MC was there, he thoroughly studied up on anything he thought would help him.

He was surprised to find that there was a form of reading available for people who had lost their sight. He had never heard about Braille before this. As a demon who wanted to learn as many languages and reading forms as possible, he was angry he missed something like this. 

He wasn’t as angry, however, when MC offered to help teach him how to read Braille if he helped them with their schoolwork and studies. The Devildom school was surprisingly accommodating but until Diavolo and Lucifer finished sorting things out, they couldn’t read any of their schoolwork.

He usually preferred silence, but he didn’t mind when MC would come in his room and feel comfortable enough to talk in detail everything that had happened that day. In return, he liked when MC would listen intently as his narrating voice filled up the room while he would read his favorite stories to them. He loved the way their face would crinkle when he’d attempt to voice a particular character. They put their hand on his chest and would beg him to do it again with a laugh. He’d attempt the line again, MC feeling the deep rumble in his chest. Reading would now not be the same without them. 

The more he got to know them, the more the heat in his chest over their blank non-focused eyes grew hotter. How could they not see? How could someone like them be deprived of something like that? He couldn’t show them art, photographs, the beauty of the Devildom’s stars. MC assured him that it was alright, anytime they wanted to know what something looked like, they would ask him. Anything he described sounded like poetry. With him around, his words would be enough. 

Asmo

Blind, as in they couldn’t see anything, see him?! His radiant shine? His picture perfect features? His allure? They wouldn’t see any of that? He was astounded. He was upset. He was dramatically depressed. He got over it pretty quickly, though, he’s very attractive yes, but all of his other qualities were just as attractive.

He’ll help tweak their uniform, he’ll buy them clothes that not only feel amazing, but look amazing. If touch is important to them, he’ll get them lotions, skincare products, anything they wanted to keep them well taken care of. Their hands will never worry about being dry. 

He loves when MC touches his face to know what he looks like. He’ll use this as an excuse. “How do you know it’s Asmo? I might have put a spell on my voice, double check.” He’ll put his hands over theirs while they amuse him and feel the details on his face down to the bridge of his nose.

One particularly pleasant evening for Asmo, he goes on and on about new clothes he bought, and then brings MC into it. 

“Right right? I think it’ll look ravishing on me, the color matches MC’s eyes.” MC smiles and states that they had forgotten their eyes were that color. Asmo sits there for a moment before shrieking, standing up so fast his chair falls over. “You don’t even know what you look like!”

Of course MC had a pretty general idea of what they looked like, but yes he was right for the most part. They didn’t understand why Asmo was so shocked about it. However, Asmo refuses to let this go, and he takes them to his bedroom describing MC down to the bone. He’ll tell them what their eye color reminds him of, the particular way their eyelashes curl, how their complexion looked under the moonlight. He’ll go on and on and on, not realizing that he’s never ever spoke so long about someone else before, so MC lets him continue. They’ve never cared about appearances before, but the way Asmo talks about them makes them cozy on the inside. He made them feel like the most gorgeous thing on earth.

They’ll then change it up, making Asmo close their eyes as they talk about all the things about him that they love. The way the air smells around him when he comes into the room. The way his tone raises up when he’s excited about something. The way his footsteps sound on hard surfaces. They adore how one side of his hair is longer than the other. They love his presence. Asmo is dumbfounded, no one has ever described him in that way before. He’ll melt and might call a doctor for this strange new feeling in his chest. 

Beel

They can’t see anything? Can they at least eat?? Well then it’s not the end of the world. If MC had somehow been deprived of taste, he would’ve really been upset. Food doesn’t have to look great to taste great. Still, the fact that they couldn’t see made the Devildom even more dangerous, and he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt around him, not again. 

He’s among the most considerate of the brothers even though he’s not used to being around someone that can’t see. He’s real worried he’ll hurt MC, so he’s always extra careful. He’ll announce that he’s beside them even though they heard his footsteps near them and could feel the heat coming off of his body. He’ll always ask them first if it’s okay to touch them so he can help them out. He’s even extra wary about hugs at first, what if he just...breaks them even more? As time goes by he learns he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells.

He finds it a fun game to let them try to figure out what stuff he made for them before they eat it, more times than not, they figure it out. Then he’ll eat it with them, unnecessarily guiding the fork to their mouth.

If Mammon isn’t by their side, it’s usually Beel who’s next. If he’s not busy with sports or working out, he’ll stick around by MC wherever they want to go. However, it’s usually MC who stays by him whenever he sees something tasty to make sure he doesn’t run off.

MC knew he worked out, but had always envisioned him to be like a big teddy bear. It wasn’t until MC asked to feel him until they understood just how strong Beel was. Under his soft clothes, they felt his tough muscles. He was built like a brick, no matter where they felt him, his arms, his sides, he was completely different than they had expected. His face was soft at least. His hair fun to play with. In his demon form adored touching his horns, exclaiming that they were perfect for fitting doughnuts. He didn’t need to know that, now Lucifer’s going to have to question why in the world Beel has doughnuts stacked on his horns. His wings felt silky and surprisingly fragile despite how strong he felt everywhere else. They were sure they weren’t as weak as they felt, but it let MC know that Beel was still soft. MC couldn’t stop gawking over how big and strong Beel was, pretending to punch him in the gut even though they could probably punch him for real and he wouldn’t feel it.

All Beel wanted was to tell MC how strong he thought they were.

Belphie

At first, he couldn’t believe that, somehow, they had chosen someone who couldn’t even see to be a part of the program. He felt like this supported his idea that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but fortunately, he thought, this made it easy for him to manipulate MC’s actions. How guilty this made him feel, afterwards.

He’d stay silent and sneak around MC, feeling that it was best if they didn’t even know he was there. They knew where he was, no matter how hard he tried. They could follow his dragging footsteps as he lazily walked through the house. His sighs and breathing were also very distinguishable.

They didn’t start getting to know each other till MC was wandering through the house, trying to still burn the number of steps in their mind in this massive place. Their cane found a strange obstacle in the middle of the floor, something that wasn’t usually there. They poked it, it was surprisingly soft. They got down on their knees and reached over, feeling cozy clothes and skin. They found a face and traced it over. It wasn’t anyone they had memorized, so it must’ve been Belphie. Made sense that he was the only one crazy enough to sleep in the middle of the floor. They loved how soft he felt, softer than any of his other brothers. Even his hair was like a velvety down you’d find in a pillow.

They knew he had woken up from his nap. The little muscles in his face were twitching, and his breathing was strained. He was trying to pretend he was asleep, but MC just kept going. They traced down his slender arms to his hands. They were free of any callouses or cuts. They took his hand and grasped it firmly in their own.

“I forgive you, you don’t need to avoid me anymore, or pretend that you’re asleep.” They heard his breathing go still, and then he sat up.

“You knew?”

“I’m not as stupid as people think I am. I may not be able to see, but I can still figure things out just fine.” They gently whacked him with their cane. “So I know you’ve been sneaking around me.”

Belphie didn’t think they wanted him around, after everything he’d done. He was still surprised his brothers kept him around at the end of the day. He just sighed. Emotions were exhausting. 

MC felt for his waist and then gave him a tight hug. They knew what it meant to be ashamed of you you were, of the things you’d done, but it didn’t matter. They wanted bygones to be bygones, and they wanted to learn about Belphie for who he really was, not what grief had made him out to be. 

MC now finds a new lump in their bed every so often. A lump that moans when you lie on it apparently. Naps are pleasant with him around. MC loves sleeping with their hands in his hair. 

MC can’t dream, not in the same way other people do, so Belphie does enough dreaming for the both of them. He’ll share stories of rippling meadows and drifting clouds. He’ll make sure they hear all sorts of pleasant things before they fall asleep. He hopes he can make it up to them.

Diavolo

Figuring out MC was blind didn’t come as a shock, he knew they were after all. He wouldn’t choose someone without knowing the important things about them, and having no eyesight definitely checked out as important. 

Knowing him, he did this as a test. He was testing out how the brothers would react and if they indeed could keep MC safe. If a blind human could make it through an entire year in the realm of demons, it would be more than a major success for his program.

The more he got to know about MC, the more he grew close to them instead of just treating them like a test subject or a campaign plan. He loved how they weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, and he also loved how he could spend hours with them, MC talking the entire time. It drove Lucifer wild, but Diavolo found it fascinating and fun. 

“Is this what having friends is like? Amazing.”

He’ll have things all set up for them in a matter of days, having whatever accommodations they need to make their school life as easy as possible. Of course, this supposed ‘special treatment’ didn’t go well over demons who opposed the program. Some demons who disapproved didn’t have the courage to defy him directly at first, but now they were starting to scurry out of the sewers like rats. They headed straight over to Diavolo’s new ‘pet’.

They would abuse MC’s lack of sight to mess with them, stealing their things, purposefully knocking them around since they wouldn’t be able to tell who they were, but any demon who thinks Diavolo doesn’t see everything is sadly mistaken. MC tried standing up for themselves, but they could feel a tremendous and overwhelming presence behind them, larger than anything they had felt before. The demons would gasp, and the bullying would stop. Diavolo would put a hand on MC’s shoulder and they’d never be bothered again.

MC knew that this was the Lord of Demons, but they wanted to feel him in his demon form anyway, should he permit. He did permit, and at last MC was able to figure out this terrifying form of his. In his human form he was large, yes, but in demon form he was even bigger, impossibly big. Demonically big. His horns and wings were sharp and decorated in all manner of jewelry. The skin that stretched over bone to serve as his wings were littered with veins, and even just touching them allowed MC to feel the power pumping through them. He was intimidating yes, but after running their hands over his features, they were able to see how beautiful he was in his frightening glory.

Diavolo won’t tell them this, but they’re the only human who has ever laid a hand on him without immediately perishing or being subjected to torment. He’ll let MC do it again too, if they ever ask him.

Barbatos

The fact that he could’ve chosen a timeline where MC wasn’t like this is irrelevant. MC remained relatively the same throughout the different branches, blind or not. He does have control over time but mostly he’ll let time decide for itself, and he’ll take whatever MC the thread of fate decides to give him in this universe. No matter who shows up, he’ll take care of them.

He’s their secret shadow. MC’s working eyes. Diavolo always has him keeping tabs on them, keeping them safe whenever the brothers can’t. MC at first didn’t understand the whisper in the wind that told them to move to the side right before a demon blazed past. They were confused about the phenomenon of something wrapping around their leg to pull them down to the floor before an object whizzed above their head, causing something to explode behind them. It took MC until they finally heard Barbatos’ voice before it clicked.

When they asked to associate a form with that soft voice, he accepted, the normally even and calm tone just slightly more enthusiastic than normal. He had very wide shoulders and strong hands. Serving hands. Hands that felt almost familiar in a funny way, almost like they were hands that had pulled them away from an problem or two. His hair was longer on one side than the other, and they loved that. Even his demon form was intriguing. In every way that Diavolo’s presence boldly screamed, his aura clearly there, Barbatos was subtle. His horns were different than any horns MC had felt thus far. They were slender, bony, like two skeletal hands were reaching around his face to rest just above his forehead. Even his tail was different, splitting off near the bottom to have two controllable ends. He almost scared MC more than Diavolo. 

Sometimes MC will talk to themselves alone in their room, filling up the silent space with their voice so it’s not as dark, not as dismal. Occasionally MC will feel like there’s someone there. Like there’s something nodding along with their ramble in the darkness as shadows quietly tidy up their room. MC will find their clothes folded in distinguishable piles. The floor clear of any potential obstacles. Their cane is easily accessible right near their bed.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

Sometimes the shadow will answer MC back, quietly drifting across the room to touch MC’s cheek before disappearing like a whisper. The darkness doesn’t seem as lonely anymore.

Simeon

He’s definitely going to be the kind of person who says “There must be a reason if God intended it.” MC had heard that throughout their life too many times. Religious or not, they hated when someone took their life and their disability and summed it up to God’s works. Their life was theirs alone, it belonged to no one else. They have a hard time around this angel at first.

Like Barbatos, Simeon can be impossibly quiet, which makes it hard for MC to be able to tell if he’s moving around. The only giveaways are the sounds his cloak makes, the little diamond shaped decor making slight clinking sounds as he moves. It’s melodic in a way, which MC sums up to angelic grace.

He’s not all bad, though. Yes he does believe God has his hands in all things, but that doesn’t mean he pities MC. That he thinks any less of them as a being. It doesn’t mean he’s chalking up their life to a charity case. He’s actually very sweet and fun. He’s one of the only people besides perhaps Solomon who believes MC is stronger than what they seem.

MC will admit sometimes they absolutely love how much the demons coddle and pamper them, but it can get too much too quickly. So sometimes they’ll run off and hang out with Simeon. He treats them like a person, not like a disability, not like a fragile little flower, but...normal. 

“Hello, Simeon here...yes, MC is here...stop screaming, they’re fine...we’ve just been talking.”

He’ll let them talk and talk and talk. He’s quiet himself but he loves to hear MC’s voice. How happy they sound when they share stories and discussions and things that happened during their day. 

MC can’t get enough of him now, they love hanging around this angel. There’s no sun in the Devildom, but anytime they’re around Simeon, they feel the same rays of warmth the sunshine gives. 

Simeon will never call MC ‘human’ sometimes God’s Miracle, sometimes a Godsend, more often than not, a blessing, but never just ‘human’.

Solomon

Yes, MC is blind, and? He doesn’t care what disability they do or do not have, he still finds them intriguing, and they’re his sole human companion in this place, a kindred spirit.

He’s also mischief wrapped in mystery, so he does his best to teach MC some simple spells to make their life a little easier down in the Devildom. Letting things they drop come right back into their hands, giving a shock to anyone who touches them that they don’t know, simple things like that. He did underestimate MC’s power, though. He may or may not have had seven demons at his door the next day when he learned that MC had accidentally dragged all the furniture in the living room towards them at a disturbing pace after they dropped a schoolbook. He did find it very funny, but taught them how to control their powers better. 

MC also doesn’t realize how much magic Solomon uses for their benefit. Objects they feel around for sometimes drift towards their hand. They will magically walk over holes in the ground. If any little pesky demon even dares try to mess with them, they’ll find themselves cursed. He knows that MC has nine powerful demons and two angels looking after them, but he does his part. 

When he finally does let MC touch his face, they’re disappointed to find that Solomon is very much in control of his expressions. They can’t get a reading off of what he’s feeling at all. They love anytime the brothers can’t help but let their lip quiver or their eyes flutter. Solomon stays blank, maybe letting them feel a smile on his face, nothing more. However, they are pleased to find not even Solomon can control his temperature, they can feel his cheeks get warmer by the second as they caress his face. 

They run their hands though his hair and find that touching him gives them a strange sensation. It’s something akin to static, but without the shock. It’s wonderfully addictive and strange. It leaves their fingers tingling and their nerves vibrating. 

Because of this sensation, MC has to touch him anytime they meet. Solomon doesn’t mind, in fact he lives for this. He’ll look over MC’s shoulder and give a small smirk to any of the demon brothers standing behind them. The expressions they pull make everything so much better. 

Luke

He’s ready to fight every demon in the Devildom when he learns they’re blind. Everything bad comes from demons, so it had to be one of them, not even hours they had been there before they took MC’s sight!

MC had to calm down the small yapping angel and tell them that they had been this way for a very long time. It just happened, it was just life. He has a very hard time dealing with this.

“But you’re so nice and sweet and wonderful, why can’t you see?” Was he crying?

MC has to promise him that it is okay, there’s still plenty to enjoy in their life. Humans don’t have it easy but they learned to move on anyway. He still doesn’t understand how MC’s not an angel. He suddenly shakes off their supporting words because he’s supposed to be the protector, not a human! He swears to protect them no matter what, no demon will stop him!

He loves to hang out with them, making sure they’re away from demons every now and then for the sake of their soul. He makes sure they’ve been treating MC okay. Even if the answer is yes, he doesn’t care what MC says, he cannot trust demons. So he brings MC the sweets he made to make sure they get plenty to eat. (No, he doesn’t know they can’t live off of sweets just yet)

If he lets MC touch his face, MC cannot get over how soft and squishy this little angel is. He’s just as cute as he sounds.

[caermis]

❝Hesitation.❞

❖Karasuno 1st years X Black!Reader

❖Reader: Female ❖Characters: ↠Hinata S. ↠Kageyama T. ↠Tsukishima K. ↠Yamaguchi T.

❖Word Count: 2.2k

❖Warnings: ↠None ❖Prompt/Summary: I tried to ignore these feelings. I really did. ❖Notes: ↠Team Captains are next-  

❝Haikyuu!! M.List❞ ❝Taglist Request❞

Dedication. 

❖To Kageyama and Hinata, that’s all that mattered. Volleyball. That’s all that made their hearts flutter and feel immense joy. So what made you different? A foreigner from a different country, that seemed to always be writing or reading in a language they didn't understand. Hair that stood out, E/C eyes, a wider nose, and bigger lips.

You were in Kageyama’s eyes, weird and strange. In Hinata’s, you were different and new. 

❖A third-year student, that seemed to know not a single thing about Volleyball, so why were you in the gym where they practiced. They watched you glanced around the room before landing on Asahi and racing over to him. You both talked silently, a smile spreading across your lips as he passed over a notebook. A notebook Hinata and Kageyama had seen you writing in.

Why did Asahi have it?

❖They watched you leave, happier than you came, and before they knew it, they were surrounding Asahi and why you were here. “She let me read one of her stories.” He stumbled over his words, inching away from them. 

Stories. So you wrote stories. 

Kindness.

❖You were kind, even if neither of them talked to you, you seemed sweet. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had met kind people before, so another one didn't impact their life. You looked different and spoke with an accent and at times spoke in broken Japanese. Yet you what made you stand out besides being a foreigner?

In Tsukishima’s eyes, nothing. In Yamaguchi’s, everything.

❖Another day walking through the same halls, and they had passed a certain classroom. Your classroom. Peeking through the windows, you seemed upset. Not the usual smile, or the resting bitch face you had, you looked sad. 

Why were you sad?

❖You repeatedly tapped your pencil against the blank page, you had writer's block. Or maybe you didn't want to write, but maybe you had to. “Hey L/N!” The two watch Sugawara walk into the room sitting across from you, still not noticing the two 1st years, your smile had returned as you spoke with your friend?

Did he make you happy?

❖A volleyball game and everyone was on edge. They would surely lose, but what was different? You appeared with a smile before the game and wished them the best. Hinata and Yamaguchi believed they could do anything, especially with you on the sidelines with Coach Ukai. Kageyama and Tsukishima both refused to lose in front of a 3rd year, especially if this was your first Volleyball game for their team. 

They won.

❖“Congratulations on winning.” A small smile across your lips, you stared at them with pride. “Thank you for believing in us L/N!” Hinata was the first to speak to you, he couldn't hold in his excitement. “You did amazing Shōyō.” You had known their names. 

❖“Do you know mine!?” Kageyama went next. He refused to let Hinata of all people have your attention. But why? “Kageyama Tobio. I know all your names.” Did it matter to you? They wanted to know why.

❖Every game, they invited you too. Hinata coming to you jumping up and down about a new move he learned and how you just had to see it in action. Kageyama would leave a note on your desk, or just expect you to come to the game. Yamaguchi would shyly mention that he had practiced, and he did better if you were there. Tsukishima would just say the date and time of the game and walk off. 

To you. It was very obvious they liked you.

❖Your graduation came sooner than they hoped. Not once ever confessing until that night you were to head back to America. They all showed up on your doorstep and confessed in the dead of the night. They expected to be shot down, to be rejected, but all you did was let out a soft sigh.

“Find me again once you graduate. I’ll tell you if I like you or not.”

❖The next day, they watched your plane leave. 

❖Kageyama and Tsukishima wanted to move on. They wanted to forget about you, to ignore you and devote all their time to volleyball, but how could they. That night Tsukishima gave you a pair of his headphones, demanding that when you both met again, you’d give them back. Kageyama gave you his volleyball, saying it was good luck, and he’d need it back.

❖Two years passed like a breeze at their last High school Volleyball game. Sugawara, Asahi, and Daichi all sat in the stands cheering them on, and there you stood, near the back with a smile.

“Good luck!”

❖How’d they hear you over the loud cheers of the crowd, no one was sure, but they did. Tsukishima’s headphones around your neck and Kageyama’s volleyball tucked beneath into your arm. Hinata’s scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, along with a headband that kept your hair in a puff, that Yamaguchi bought as your graduation gift. 

❖They won that game. Play harder than before, but before they could greet you. You had disappeared. 

You were in Japan, that’s all that mattered. 

❖“You're going to keep hiding from them?” Settling into the guest bedroom, Sugawara stared at me with a questionable look as he placed my bags to the side. “I'm not hiding.” 

“Then why won't you go see them?”

“I'm just waiting.”

“They have feelings for you. I hope you see them at graduation.” Turning to Suga and slipping the headphones off and plopping down on the edge of my bed. “I will.”

“Oh, my goddess Y/N. You actually like them back!” Suga grabbed my face and stared into my eyes. His smile spread across his lips. Slapping his face away, I turned my head to the side. “I don't...”

“I gotta tell Daichi!”

Hesitation.

❖Most things I've accomplished within my life I had been hesitant on. Coming to Japan, I wanted to, but I was hesitant. I would be on my own. Writing, something that I believed myself in most times, to where I published a book, and it did well. Yet I was hesitant to share it to Asahi, but I did. My first volleyball game I went to, seeing Karasuno play, I was hesitant to go. Like I was a bad omen, and I would mess them up somehow. 

My feelings. 

❖I tried, I really did. An 18-year-old being in love with a few 16 years old, that’s depressing. When I went back to America, I tried to go on different dates, move on, but it didn't work. With Tsukishima’s headphones tucked neatly on my desk and Kageyama’s ball in the corner of my old apartment. With Hinata’s scarf hanging on the wall and Yamaguchi’s headband on my dresser. Every day, I saw these items, every day I wanted to contact them, but I didn't. I didn't want these feelings to be true.

❖So why did I come back to Japan if I wanted to forget them so badly? It was their last volleyball game, and I wanted to see it in person. So before I knew it, I was on the next plane to Japan and stayed at a hotel before contacting my old classmates. In a place that felt so foreign two years ago, became my home. I cried when I saw them. 

The volleyball game

❖I didn't them to know I was here, so when all their eyes whipped up to me, I broke and quickly ran once the game ended. I couldn't face my feelings. I regretted it, too far to turn back. Too late to run and apologize. I hesitated again. 

“Dammit.”

❖Graduation came sooner than I expected. The next thing I knew I was sitting with Sugawara and Daichi waiting for the once baby flightless crows to walk across the stage. Every fiber in my being wanted to run and leave, while the other half of me refused to listen to my panicking brain and im 100% sure that if I attempted, Daichi would drag me right on back. Letting out a soft breath before my ears picked up Hinata’s name and he proudly strutting across the stage. He had grown taller. He looked out into the crowd, scanning his eyes across before landing on me. 

❖Feeling my heart stop, I watched his smile widened before he left the stage. 

❖Kageyama was next, walking across the stage seeming to know exactly where I was. Averting my eyes quickly, I could still feel his intense glare. Daichi and Koushi making fun of me, which earned them a painful pinch on the shoulder. Tsukishima went next, then Yamaguchi. Their stares less intense but determined. All mentally vowing to find me, I made a promise after all.

❖Soon the ceremony was over, letting me dart outside before the crowd came and get some fresh air. Mentally psyching myself up for this encounter. “Found you.” Stiffening in my position, I slowly turned around. It was Kageyama. And he is tall, staring down at me before glancing down at the old volleyball in my hands. “You kept it... Why?” Looking at the volleyball before passing it to him. “You said it was good luck and to give it back to you.”

❖“They got yo’ ass surrounded!”

❖Hearing Koushi yell, before I realized it, the four volleyball players surrounded me. “We graduated Y/N.” Hearing Tsukishima mutter, just as warm arms hugged me from behind, careful to avoid my hair. “I've missed you Y/N...”

❖“Shōyō,” Muttering quietly, my hand moving up to his head, softly patting it before remembering where we were. Pulling away, I turned and faced all of them. “Congrats.” Smiling, I looked towards Koushi and Daichi for help, but they only waved happily, before mouthing that they'll text me where to meet for dinner. “You owe us an answer.”

❖“Right now?” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and before I knew it, I was being pushed through the crowd and towards the empty gym. An answer… I didn't want to admit it, I didn't want to say that whatever i felt, love, was true. That i felt what I did for them. Yet at the same time I was ready, ready to tell them.  Tsukishima was the one to slide the gym doors open, letting Yamaguchi and Hinata push me inside, Kageyama close behind. Hearing the gym doors shut, I turned around, facing them. Standing on the court, I pulled off Tsukishima’s headphones and passed them to him. 

❖“Keep them.”

❖“You told me to give them back--”

❖“I lied. I don't need them.”

❖Dropping my hand to my side, I felt like I was in high school again. “I still like you a lot, L/N.” Yamaguchi spoke confidently, his hands in his pockets. “I know.” Muttering, avoiding their gazes. “Do you like us?” Turning to Hinata, I took a hesitant step back, clutching the headphones tightly.

❖“It’s fine if you say no.” Kageyama shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his old volleyball drop and roll to my feet. If I say no, I’ll be running away. Regretting this decision. Covering my eyes with one hand, a shaky breath left my lips as tears spilled from my eyes. “I tried to ignore these feelings. I really did, but i missed y’all a lot while i was away...it scared me to be honest. That I fell in love with four different people. That I... I couldn't decide--” I explained everything, while crying my eyes out. It felt like a heavy burden was off of my shoulders, that I could finally be honest. 

❖Once I stopped crying, I looked up. Both Hinata and Yamaguchi in tears, Tsukishima with a smirk, and Kageyama with a rare smile.

Dedication.

❖To Kageyama and Hinata, that’s all that mattered. Volleyball. That’s all that made their hearts flutter and feel immense joy. So what made you different? Maybe it was the way your lips curled up in embarrassment when you became flustered or when you looked fully entranced by something you read. Or when you always held their hand as they walked or you cheering loudly in the crowd, always making time for them to appear. Or when you introduced them to western ideas and food. 

You were in Kageyama’s eyes, different and strange. To make his heart flitter like volleyball did to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and comfort him.

In Hinata���s, you were understanding and loving, to indulge him on his late night walks, and even after he’d lose you’d be proud of him.

Kindness.

❖You were kind, even after knowing you for years, you were sweet. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had met kind people before, so why did another one impact their life so differently? You being their biggest cheerleader and helping them every step of the way, or never you choosing between them and choosing to compromise. Or after a long day passing out in their arms only to wake up at three am with 15 different story ideas. 

In Tsukishima’s eyes, nothing. You were nothing like the other kind of people he had met. None made his heart so full or raise his body temperature.

In Yamaguchi’s, everything, like the kind people he had met, but yours was 10x, you believed in his capabilities and that alone was more than you could ask.

[babyloposts]

“It’s Not Safe”

OneShot

Warnings: angst, mild language, violence, references to non-con acts, unresolved ending

Pairing: Azumane Asahi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k+

Fandom: Haikyuu!

Head Canon: none

Summary: The only thing worse than arguing with a s/o is being ignored by one. After a big argument about the future of Y/N and Asahi’s relationship, Asahi chooses to ignore the problem instead of talking it out. As a result Y/N takes the situation into her own hands, but it comes at a cost. -in which Azumane Asahi has to make a tough decision to secure a future together-

A/N: This one made me soft. Kind of out of my comfort zone, but I hope you like it. If you like my writing send me a request or a prompt and check out my other work. Thanks guys ;)

Y/N couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t Asahi.

The argument they had earlier played over and over inside Y/N’s brain. Why couldn’t Asahi just be reasonable. Of course she wanted to continue their relationship after high school, but it wouldn’t be that simple.

Y/N’s choice to study abroad was not an easy one to make, but she had to follow her dreams no matter what. She just wished that Asahi wasn’t so upset when he found out.

-

“What do you mean you’re leaving? W-we just took entrance exams last week. I thought you were going to a college in Japan.”

“That was the plan originally, but I got a scholarship to study in the US. I’d be crazy if I didn’t take this opportunity.” Y/N tried to explain to a clearly hurt Asahi. He sucked at hiding his emotions even when he tried to his hardest to mask his feelings. She reached for his hand, and took it hesitantly.

“You’d be crazy for staying here with me?” He mumbled. Y/N’s head dropped to look at the ground. She couldn’t face those sad eyes. It was enough to make her want to stay.

“We can make long distance work, can’t we?” It was less of a question and more of a desperate plead. She didn’t want to lose Asahi, but Y/N had to think about her future first. Asahi dropped his hand from her grip and put some distance between them.

“I guess you’ve already made up your mind then. Don’t let me stand in your way.” Asahi brushed by her almost fast enough that Y/N couldn’t attempt to stop him.

“Asahi please. Can we talk about this more.” Tears clouded the girl’s line of vision and she clung dearly to Asahi’s strong arm. She feared letting go meant the end and she wasn’t ready for that. There was still time to work through it.

Asahi sighed. He hated himself for not being strong enough to keep Y/N. He hated himself for giving up so easily, for being such a coward. But, there was nothing more he could say.

“You don’t have to say anything else.” Asahi maneuvered his arm out of her grasp and faced her one last time. “I know you’ll do great, Y/N. I’ll always believe in you.” He gave her a gentle head pat. It was a sign of affection they used often when in public. Usually it was loving and reassuring, but to Y/N it felt solemn.

There was nothing more to do other than to watch Asahi walk away from her. Tears brimming over her eyelids and staining her cheeks. Would this really be the last time she ever saw him?

Y/N replayed earlier’s events in her mind more times than she could possibly count and each time her ducts gave in and the tears started flowing. All she wanted was to talk to Asahi so they could still be on good terms. Even if he wanted to break up she still wanted to keep in touch with him. They were best friends after all and ending a two year relationship like this... Y/N couldn’t let that happen.

She tried calling, texting nothing worked. Asahi wouldn’t pick up his phone no matter how much Y/N blew him up. She felt defeated. He didn’t want to talk to her, she thought. Even though she was discouraged, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. She would no longer be complacent. She was going to get what she wanted without a second thought about it. She was going to the Azumane residence.

-

The street was quiet and dark. It was a bit ominous as well. Dark corners and lone street lights cast unsettling shadows onto the houses along the road. Y/N reassured herself that she was being ridiculous and was perfectly fine to walk down the street she’d been on countless times before.

The route was clear in her head, but everything always looked different at night. It seemed the surrounding area was completely different. Did she get lost somewhere along the way? Did she take a left at the street sign, when she really meant to take a right? Y/N didn’t know everything felt so foreign to her now.

As she neared a somewhat familiar street corner a shiver shot through her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at full attention. Her eyes darted all around her checking for anyone who might’ve been following her. The street was empty, but she could’ve sworn she heard someone.

“Hello?” Y/N called out into the dark street, only hearing the echo of her voice in response. She flipped her hood on and began to take off in a direction that was familiar. As she rounded the corner onto Asahi’s street a tight grip on her forearm pulled her into the darkness of an abandoned alleyway.

“Wha-!” She screamed but was quickly silenced by a hand slapping over her lips.

“Calm down girlie. We’re not gonna hurt ya.” A gruff voice rasped next to her ear. “We just need you to empty your pockets without disturbing the residents, okay?” Another man had Y/N’s hands held firmly above her head while the other kept her quiet and flashed a pocket knife in her face.

In a panic, Y/N began kicking wiggling and screaming with all of her might. She was able to get her hands free, but unfortunately wasn’t fast enough to get into the safety of someone’s house.

The muggers had recaptured Y/N just as fast as she escaped with her now pinned on the floor a knee perched on her sternum and the knife pressed against her cheek.

“Please, stop! I- I can’t breathe.” Y/N choked out.

“Do you think this is a game little girl? We could have done this the easy way, but now we’re gonna take what we want by force and have a little fun while we’re at it.” The partner agreed and took the knife to keep her in place as the man searched Y/N’s pockets.

“No! Stop!” She cried out as they began searching inside of her shirt and her leggings. Y/N prayed to any God that was listening to get her out of this situation. If only she had stayed home, she wouldn’t have come across these creeps.

“Shut up, before I cut up your pretty face.” The man holding the knife pressed it up against her cheek, breaking the skin.

“No please. I’m sorry, I have no money. Please don’t hurt me.” A hand muffled Y/N’s cries once again. She struggled as much as she could, but it was no use. All she could will herself to do was cry and wait for the suffering to be over.

As Y/N felt a calloused finger slip down her torso and closer to her legs, suddenly a great weight had fallen upon her.

“Fuck!” The man on top of her cried out. Y/N’s eyes widened and she saw the other man get knocked out beside her. She couldn’t help, but let out a scream. She stopped herself when the weight was lifted from her torso and she was raised from the ground. When her vision finally cleared she saw it. No she saw him. Asahi with a baseball bat, dragging her towards his house.

“Y/N, just keep running okay?” An exasperated voice blessed the girl’s ears. Her feet were moving on their own, she was in pure shock.

“A-Asahi?” Her voice broke out into a whimper. He looked back at Y/N only for a moment, but in that moment she could see all the anger and fear that was displayed on Asahi’s face.

“We’re almost there.” Asahi continued to drag her along until they were safely inside the walls of his home. Y/N fell to the ground as he pushed her inside and she struggled to catch her breath. What just happened?

Asahi checked the windows, closed the blinds, and locked the door before turning to her. He was panting, sweaty, and shirtless. His face was unreadable. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Asahi I...” she tried to find the words to say anything, but to break the tension, but her brain was empty. No words or sentence to be found.

Asahi shuddered. Without thinking twice he threw her over his shoulder and carried her up to his bedroom. Y/N was placed softly on the plush comforter of Asahi’s bed. She watched him as he let out the deepest of sighs before stepping out of the bedroom and down the hall.

He returned in about a minute with a damp wash cloth that he pressed to her cheek. His face was so close to hers. In just the few hours that they’d been apart, Y/N had already grown to miss his face. Without thinking she reached out and grazed her fingers lightly along his jaw. Asahi shuddered and pulled away quickly.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide and her lips parted slightly. “Asahi... I-I’m sorry-”

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Asahi’s gaze fell to her shoes that were stained with mud.

“I wanted to see you.”

“In the middle of the night?” His voice rose slightly, but no malice was laced in his tone.

“I don’t like how we ended things Asahi. We need to talk.” For what felt like the millionth time today, Y/N’s eyes began to water.

Asahi sighed. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having at least not right now. “Y/N... right now I’m just worried about you being safe.” He pressed the cold rag back to her face. “Are you... okay?” Obviously she wasn’t okay. She had just gone through something traumatic, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

All Y/N did was shake her head. With that Asahi wrapped his arms around her and it was his turn to let some tears spill. “Did they touch you?” He choked out.

“N-no.” Y/N whispered. “Not like, that.” Asahi held her close to him. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but he had to talk eventually and if he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t know when he’d get the courage to do so. He let go of Y/N’s torso and looked into her eyes.

Y/N could see a plethora of emotion in his hazel irises. He was sad, scared, angry, serious, loving all mixed in one. The intensity of his gaze terrified and comforted her at once.

“You can’t... you can’t do that. Why would you scare me like that Y/N?”

“I just wanted to talk to you. I was so sad about earlier and-”

“It’s not safe! It’s not safe for you to be walking around late at night in this neighborhood. You’re too frail and you’re lucky I was out on a run. What if I wasn’t there? They could have seriously hurt you, or killed you, or-”

“I know. I know, but you were ignoring me.” She whimpered. Being lectured by him was worse than she could have ever imagined, but even so at least she knew he cared. At least he was being honest and not shutting her out like before.

“I wasn’t trying to ignore you, but talking to you... seeing you and knowing that I can’t have you hurt me. And I can’t stand to hear you say you don’t want to be with me anymore.” Asahi averted his eyes from her gaze. His new found courage quickly dissipated after his confession. “Never mind. It’s dumb. I’m dumb.”

“No. Baby you’re not dumb. Of course I want to be with you. I love you and I just wanted you to talk to me. This is all I’ve wanted the whole time.” Y/N grabbed Asahi’s face in her hands. Their eyes were fixated on each other’s gaze, not breaking the contact for even a second. The couple had never felt closer than they are now.

Still Asahi had that twinge of fear in the bottom of his gut. “I’m not ready.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N’s head cocked to the side and her gaze softened.

“I’m not ready to talk about you leaving it still hurts too much. Can we just wait til the morning?” Asahi knew that wasn’t what she wanted, but he was going to allow himself to be selfish for once. He always put her needs above his own, but this time, she’d wait for him.

Asahi’s eyes were pleading and she could do nothing but nod her head. “Sure. We’ll talk in the morning.” Asahi’s forehead rested against hers as the two embraced. Asahi picked Y/N up by her waist and laid her down on the bed. He pulled the oversized sweatshirt he gave her over her head and pulled off her shoes and her tattered leggings leaving her in just a tank top and panties.

“Thanks.” She whispered. She crawled underneath the sheets taking a deep breath. It was the first time since before their argument that she had felt any sort of relaxation or comfort.

“I’m going to go shower really quick.”

“No stay with me.” Y/N grabbed his hand as quickly as she could pulling him back down to the bed.

“But, I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care. I’ll change your sheets in the morning, just please don’t leave me Asahi.” He nodded and kicked off his sweatpants. He slipped in next to Y/N and wrapped his arms around her. The two were comfortable in their embrace and she relaxed in the warmth of his body.

“Tomorrow.” Y/N whispered soundly.

“Tomorrow.” Asahi agreed.

[silksandcravats]

Training (part 2) Kylo Ren x You

Summary: Kylo has a long and brutal punishment in store for you after your behaviour this morning. Read part 1 here for context

masterlist

WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, dom!kylo, mean!kylo, blindfolds, handcuffs, collar, anal play, slight painal, mention of caning, wax play, crying during sex, PIV sex, generally a bit rough, aftercare tho don’t worry

A/N: Accidentally deleted this b/c i’m dumb so reposting. I apologise this took me ages to write but it’s here now! and it is LONG so i really hope the wait was worth it! (ps gif is basically a visual representation of what he does to you… you da helmet b.)

You managed to keep yourself busy for much of the remainder of the day. You could have any food delivered to your quarters, but today you ate at the furthest dining hall possible, trying to kill time. But it would seem that the more you tried to occupy yourself, the more you found yourself coming up blank. In fact, you couldn’t seem to remember a single hobby of yours, instead your mind forced you to relive the events of your morning again and again.

You refused to acknowledge any form of remorse for your actions, but you couldn’t help it when the anxious knot that had grown in your stomach seemed to tighten further and further with each passing hour. It was only after you had given up your game of playing busy that you were forced to face your waterloo. 

You were sitting on one of the sleek lounge chairs, facing the glass wall that stood between you and the endless mass of glittering stars and indefinite darkness, when the doors opened. You listened to heavy steps enter the quarters, and you closed your eyes for a moment, collecting yourself, bracing for whatever was next to come.

“Come along kitten, we have much to discuss.” He called for you, opting to forgo any pleasantries. You took a deep breath, before standing, following his voice to another room in your quarters. Technically, it was your bedroom, but the room was so large it served multiple purposes, to one side sat a bed, two bedside tables, a door leading to the refresher, and another door to a large closet, on the other side of the room was a few sleek shelves and an excessively large desk a few feet from the wall, and between the two sides, a large expanse of empty floor.

“Bring me your collar.” he said, already holding something in his massive fist you couldn’t quite see. 

You nodded, remembering to add a “yes sir” after he cleared his throat, going to collect the black piece from it’s home in your bedside table. You brought it back to him, setting it down in his waiting hand, before dropping your hands awkwardly to your side, unsure what he wanted you to do with them. He noticed this, but offered you no guidance, grabbing your chin and thrusting it upwards so he could fasten your collar around your neck. He was sorely tempted to pull it too tight, to make you gasp and turn your face a pretty shade of pink, but you would need your breath for what was to come.

 Once the collar was secured he began undressing you swiftly and quietly, face void of emotion. If he was aroused by seeing you nude, he didn’t show it.

He then circled around you, stalking his prey, stopping behind you he moved to blindfold you, robbing you of your sight and encouraging you to tune into your other senses. Once it was on tightly you heard him take a few steps back from you. You stood there a few moments before you heard him speak.

“Kneel.” The addition of the blindfold made the simple task more complicated, as your sense of balance was altered. You did your best not to tip over as you fell to your knees quickly, you knew he was expecting blind obedience, and if you failed to comply immediately he would roughly push you to the ground himself. 

“I must confess pet, I was under the false impression that we were making progress in your training.” He mused circling to your front again. “But your infraction today has made it apparent I have been entirely too forgiving with you. That will have to change.” He paused and could him shuffling next to you and then you felt his hot breath fanning against your ear. “You look so pretty and vulnerable like this baby.”

“Thank you sir.” you purred, grateful for the compliment. 

“It’s too bad I have to punish you for being such an insufferable brat.” he sneered, grabbing your ear tightly, and standing. You winced in pain and followed him up as quickly as possible trying to ease the pressure, but he didn’t let up. He walked to the other side of the room with you staggering blindly just behind him. Using only the grip on your ear, he practically flung you forward so you fell against his desk bent over. Your hands coming to catch yourself a bit too late.

He pulled your arms back meeting them just over the swell of your ass and you felt the unmistakable sensation of standard first order cuffs locking around your wrists. You nearly rolled your eyes, wondering what he had in store for you that he felt the need to restrain you. You were left to wait for a while before you felt contact again. His hand reached your ass grabbing one cheek and crudely pushing it to the side, and then you felt his now slick finger prodding against your back door. You squeaked and tried to move forward but there was nowhere to go.

Self defence wasn’t the only training Kylo was guiding you through. He was obsessed with the idea of claiming you- all of you. And that included every hole. The past few weeks he had begun working you towards taking him up your ass, and while you found the idea of it totally arousing, the painstaking slow path towards it was a pain in the ass, literally. You hated the way it felt so cold going in, the stretch was painful, and at the end of it all it felt like there was no real relief as a plug would usually sit ideally in you, taking up space but not providing you the stimulation you craved. 

Tonight Kylo had decided to use this distaste for anal training against you. You groaned at the feeling as his finger pressed firmly inside your unwilling hole, sliding right in, two knuckles deep working into you. 

“I’ve got a new plug for you tonight little one,” he informed you, pressing his finger all the way in so it sat deep inside you.

“Is- is it bigger?” You asked nervously, trying your luck as you weren’t sure if you were even allowed to talk right now.

“Indeed kitten,” he answered, it seems your question was allowed for now. He continued pushing in a second finger. “I’ve skipped a few sizes, this one’s bigger than you’ve ever taken. And it’s going all the way up your ass.” you shivered at the thought. 

He didn’t prepare you much more before you felt his fingers withdrawal and the tip of a cold steel plug pressing against you. You couldn’t help the grunt of discomfort that fell from your lips as you instinctively clenched tightly, denying him access.

“Don’t fight me.” he commanded calmly, pressing harder against you. You squeezed your eyes tightly under the blindfold, your entire face scrunching with discomfort.

“Don’t want it.” you complained. Suddenly the pressure stopped momentarily.

“Fine,” he relented, tone still eerily calm. “Then you can help me put it in. Hold yourself open.” Your eyes flew open.

“I-I can’t.” You tried, holding your cuffed wrists up slightly as an excuse.

“I won’t repeat myself kitten,” he warned. Not wanting to provoke him further, you elected to oblige. With a pink face and shame filling your guts, you pushed your hands back, grabbing your own ass you pulled yourself open, fully presenting your little hole to him. The position was entirely humiliating, but that was what he was going for.

“The little slut can listen,” he mused, once again lining the steel invader with your entrance. When he pressed again you were unable to resist the way you had earlier, and much to your disappointment you felt yourself beginning to stretch painfully in an attempt to accommodate the foreign object. You could already tell this one was a good deal wider and longer than any of the preceding plugs, and you felt all too sorry for yourself as you thought about how your only option was to lie there and take it. 

“You are going to learn that I have final say of anything and everything that happens to this little hole, and every other inch of your body.” he lectured, pushing deeper and deeper. “This body belongs to me, you are mine, and whatever happens to you is entirely up to me. I will see to it that you learn to listen to me better than you listen to your own body. I know what is best for my pet, and you will listen to me.”

You let out a small whine as the widest part slipped inside of you, but otherwise the plug was fully seated without much further protest from you. Finding yourself too overcome with shame to fight your situation anymore. Once it was all the way, he took a moment to admire the shiny and excessive jewel at the end of the plug before batting your hands away. You worked to even your breathing as he stepped away from you, you could hear his footsteps echo as he walked across the room.

“Open” he came around to your front, placing something hard and wooden, a cane, between your teeth, you bite down, realising he wanted you to hold the implement. “We are going to try something new today, it is intended to be a punishment, although I suspect being the little whore that you are you will find some way to enjoy it. This is practice for you. It will be quite intense but you will not move an inch because I told you not to. Since it’s so hard for you to  follow instructions, you’re going to hold this in your mouth the whole time. If you so much as step a toe out of line, I will cane you until I draw blood, understood?”

You nodded quickly in response to his threat, knowing full well he was not bluffing. 

“Good” he muttered, patting your face and moving behind you again. He allowed you to wait in wonder as he worked behind you. Anticipation swirled in your belly as you wondered what new trick he had in store to make you squirm. 

Suddenly your curiosity was answered as you felt something scalding hot drip onto the top left of your exposed back. You gasped, but fought against your instincts, remaining entirely still. The burn was intense but short lived, You felt white hot pain for the briefest moment, before the substance cooled and hardened against your skin. You quickly realised he was dripping hot wax along your back. 

“How does that feel?” he asked curiously, running a line down a portion of your spine, moving lower down your back towards a region he knew would be even more sensitive.

“Hurts.” you slobbered slightly against the cane holding your mouth slightly agape, fighting your body’s instinct to wiggle away from the sensation. You yelped aloud as you feel a small puddle of wax pool in one of the dimples of your back. Oh how you wanted to arch your back in response. You found that when the wax made contact with the lower portion of your back the sting only halfway subsided when it hardened, a soreness remaining. 

Kylo felt himself hardening at the sight of you. You were purring out pathetic little whines every time he splattered more red wax against your poor flesh. You looked stunning like this, clearly so desperate to move but forcing yourself to be still, to be good for him. Ever the sadist, he continued his work until your skin was practically covered, and your little whines had begun to shift into little moans. Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he was rather proud of your resilience, and decided to reward you by trailing his hand down to your dripping, neglected center.

“Just as I expected. Soaked.” he hummed, spreading your labia to expose your clit and opening to the cool air. “It would seem the little painslut enjoyed herself,” he ran his finger just along your opening, but didn’t give you the pleasure of entering you. “I supposed we better take care of this greedy little cunt.” he withdrew his prodding fingers, moving his hands to your wrist. He released you from the cuffs only to grasp your wrists in one of his big hands. With his other hand he grabbed the top of your right arm tightly, pulled you up so your entire naked backside was flush against his clothed front. 

Once you were standing he kept his grip on your wrists but let go of your arm to reach around and pull the cane from your mouth. It was more than a little wet from where you had been holding it in your mouth and you wished your hands were free so you could wipe the drool that had run down your chin. 

“I suppose this will be saved for another time.” He muses, tossing the cane to the side. His next move was to release you from the blindfold, granting you sight again. Your eyes immediately squinted and blinked, trying to adjust to the harsh fluorescents of the room again. He kissed down your neck sloppily, overwhelmed with arousal at how well you had taken the experiment. You basked in the shift of attention for a while before he pulled away from you abruptly. You whined at the loss of contact but he shushed you, pulling away entirely letting your hands go.

“Go wait on the bed for me.” He commanded, softly. You nodded moving to the bed still stark naked to wait for him while he undressed. Your attention was once again drawn to the large plug invading your back entrance, as it shifted inside you with every step you took. You wondered to yourself if he would notice if you reached back and pulled the kriffing thing out. But you decided against it as you crawled onto the bed. Of course he would notice. 

He hadn’t told you how he wanted you to wait for him, so you opted to lie on your back, propped up on your elbows, watching as he finished undressing himself and moved over to you. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you, pressing his mouth against you and you kissed back eagerly, opening wide enough that he could poke his hot wet tongue around, exploring your mouth. His hand slid down, grasping your breast and tweaking one of your nipples between his fingers, making you groan into his mouth. 

You bucked your hips up into him as he twisted and pulled. “Patience,” he warned against your mouth, moving his hand to give your other nipple the same treatment. You whined, and continued bucking yourself upward against his hardened cock, trying to provoke him to hurry up and fuck you already. Suddenly he ripped away from your mouth, grasping your throat roughly and shoving your head back against the pillows.

“You don’t cum until I tell you. Is that clear?” he snarled, pressing just firmly enough to restrict the blood flow to your head. 

“Yes s-supreme leader.” you gasp, knowing the effect his title on your lips had on him. 

“Good girl,” he seemed pleased, releasing your neck, moving his hand down between your legs. His fingers grazed past your entrance, but kept moving further down to where the little plug sat, nestled in your back hole. He twisted and tugged at it, to which you responded with more wiggling and groans. “How’s the new toy treating my little toy?” he pulled it out so that the widest part of the plug was stretching you open again and you squeaked.

“F-full sir, really full.” you tried to respond.

“You better get used to it.” he slammed in all the way back in suddenly, making you jump. “When I shove my cock in there soon, you’re going to feel much more full.”

“Please,” you begged, his words making your pussy clench on nothing and your asshole tighten around the plug.

“Please what?” he hummed, watching you practically writhe on the bed.

“Please fuck me.” You sounded so desperate.

“Fuck you?” he asked in a mocking tone, teasing your clit, his touch was feather light but in your state it was enough to make you jerk your hips.

“Yes, yes please.”

“Have you learned anything today, kitten?” His tone is condescending.

“Yes yes! And I’m so sorry I’ll be so good, please.” you word vomit, hoping you’ll say what he wants to hear.

“You’re sorry?” he taunts, lining himself up.

“Yes, yes I’m really sorry!” you plead, shrieking when he slams into you. 

“Hmm, I better see if I can fuck any last bits of brat out of you, just to be sure.” He begins pounding into you harshly, finally giving you what you want to feel. The sensation of his cokc ramming in and out of you rapidly is only further amplified by the shiny object plugging up your back hole. You felt entirely stuffed, the feeling was overwhelming. “Look at you, I’m going to make such a mess of you kitten, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes supreme leader.” you moaned, every stroke reaching a new depth within.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled, sweat beading on his forehead as he pounded into you.

“Y-you sir.” You pant. He pulled back suddenly, grabbing both of your ankles, he pulled them up and pressed them back as far as you would stretch. You felt the ache grow in your muscles as he slammed into you from the new angle. “Fuck! Kylo I can feel you in my guts!”

“Shit kitten say my name again. Who fucks you so well?” He growled as trying to get his words out straight as you tightened against him.

“You do Kylo! Shit! Kylo!” you were practically howling, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you. “Kylo, k-kylo please, please can I cum?”

“Hold it.” he moved his hand down toying with your clit, making you scream. 

“I-I can’t!”

“You can and you will, what did I just teach you?” He wrapped his free hand around your throat twisting it away from the pillows so he could glare into your glossy eyes and watch you cry.

“Stars! I’m t-trying sir please!” you cried, feeling the familiar knot in your tummy.

“You can do it kitty, make me proud, just a little longer.” He grunted, snapping his hips into you again and again. You cried harder but nodded, watching his concentration as he fucked you into the mattress. He’d make you wait longer, but he was nearing the edge himself.

“Kylo!” You cried, the sensation was building and you knew you couldn’t hold off much longer.

“Shit, come for me angel, be a good girl and cum on my cock. SHIT!” He yelled head twitching inside of you, unloading his seed deep inside of you.

“Kylo!” You cried the knot inside of you exploded and he released inside of you, squeezing again and again as he continued rocking into you. You sobbed loudly, totally blissed out, and entirely overwhelmed. 

Finally, his hips slowed, he let out a grunt, not bothering to pull out of you yet, he collapsed onto you, his heavy weight pressing you into the mattress, comforting you. He buried his face in your neck, panting and you weakly reached your arms up to wrap around his neck, still sobbing into his shoulder as you came down from your high. 

“I’m here angel, I’ve got you.” He pet your head as you cried his name. You could feel his heartbeat, steady across your chest as you came down. Soon your crying was reduced to slow ragged breaths, and you seemed to re-enter your body, all too aware of the wax still stuck to your back, your wrists aching from the cuffs, your pounding head, the foriegn presence in your ass, and the overall feeling of achiness and exhaustion. 

Kylo and his impressive stamina recovered much quicker than you. He pulled his weight off of you, kissed your forehead, and scooped you up, ignoring your noises of protest, he moved and carried you to the refresher. He sat down with you in his lap on the edge of the tub, leaning to plug the tub and turn on the water. 

“Did so well kitten, I’m so proud of you.” he muttered, tightening his hold on you, kissing your temple. 

“M’sore.” you grumble softly. 

“I know baby, here.” He stood and moved you to stand on your feet. You whined again when he let go of you and pressed you slightly to lean over the sink. “Shh, just taking this out.” He hushed you softly, reaching down to work the plug out of you as gently as possible. When more sad noises left your lips, he reached his free hand out for you to grasp. You took it quickly, squeezing a few of his thick fingers in your fist every time you felt a stretch. He let you without complaining, you weren’t really hurting him, especially compared to what he had put you through. 

When he was finished he tugged you up into his chest again, and you nuzzled against him. You were still wobbly from being so fucked out, but his tall, sturdy frame took on most of your weight. He ran his hand up and down your back slowly, cooing more praises to you, about how proud he was, and how good you had been. The skin to skin between the two of you was all too comforting, and you felt your eyes drooping shut to the sound of his thumping chest and the sound of the bath still filling up.

[ditch-witches]

Farmer’s Son - Dean Charles-Chapman x reader

(PART ONE) - (PART TWO)

Ivanna, I love you. Thank you for always hyping up our stuff and BLESSING us with your amazing artistic talents.

request: (jfc yall)

"I would do literally anything for more farm dean (can we eventually get a cute wedding? Take it slow tho dw)”

“I would kill for farmer's daughter part 3.”

“Okay wow I love Majesty it’s amazing but can you please give us some more farm Dean!! Love y’all!”

“Aight so can we pleaseee get another part for farmer’s daughter cause I never knew I needed farmer Dean in my life prior to that”

“I NEED FARM DEAN TO BE A COMPLETE SERIES WITH MANY HOT SUMMERS AND A WEDDING EVENTUALLY”

“Please give us farm/country Dean part 3 IT MAKES ME SO SOFT🥺🥰 They need to get married at some point sksksk”

“I’m the one who requested farm boy Dean and whew boy you guys did not disappoint! IT WAS SO GOOD."

warnings: ?language? 

word count: ~4000

You furrowed your brows as you looked over the field of workers, tilling the dark earth beneath the hot summer sun. The living room radio was cranked up loud enough that the lulling tones of the singer could be heard from your front porch, mixing in with the calming noise of the wind-chime and cicadas in the trees. The scent of summer wafted through your hair with the same wind swirling through the chime, playing it as if it were a musician. The warmth of the sun settled against your exposed skin as you marched out to the field, throwing your hat over your wild hair. The cooler you were lugging behind you was nearly reminiscent of when your mother forced you to apologize to the men for your manners when now, it seemed that you could be wearing a winter coat and she’d nearly faint in embarrassment. Still, you were greeted with bright smiles and the welcoming of the refreshments. 

You tucked your hands into your back pockets, searching the small crowd of college boys almost too dirty to be recognized. The offset chorus of sentiments and thankfulness blended into the wind in your ears. “He’s not here today,” one of the boys you knew from high school piped up beside you, leaning against his trow and following your eyes towards the horizon over the field. You moved your head to look in his direction, perking an eyebrow as you did so. He ran one of his grimy hands through his sandy hair, taking a deep breath of the summer air you were also admiring a few minutes prior. 

You chuckled lightly. “Well, don’t write a novel, sparky,” you joked, making him snicker, a small gleam in his eyes as he looked at you fully this time. 

“Apologies, ma’am. Dean took up another shift at the station. He needs the money before he heads back soon,” he disclosed, his hand moving to rub at the nape of his neck. You felt your heart drop three stories into hell at his words. 

You wet your lips, searching his eyes. “Soon?” 

He nodded. “Didn’t he tell you? His mom sent him a letter or something.” You shook your head, thanking him for the information and handing him one of the drinks from the cooler, your mind racing at what soon meant. How soon? Next week? In a few days? Tomorrow? What happened to summer? You parted ways with the men, tying your hair back and deciding that waiting for him to get off work would eat you alive before you got the opportunity to figure out what was happening. 

It seemed as if your bike wasn’t quick enough to keep up with your legs and pacing heart. The vast cornfields and wildflowers you regularly would have stopped to enjoy, zipped passed your ankles alongside the gravel road into town. Your chest tightened at the thought of him leaving so soon after you had so much planned for these few precious months you had the opportunity to spend with him. 

The reality of the situation was that you both were getting older. Soon, at least by your mother’s standards, you’d need to be settled and on the road to having children before your life completely passed by your ears. There were only so many summer vacations you could enjoy before you were tied into a job or a family. It was only a matter of time before you’d be looking back on these summers and wishing you could curl back up beneath the large willow trees, pressed against Dean’s side after a long day. When you were old and harsh like your mother, would you regret it if Dean wasn’t the man you were spending the rest of your life with? Did he even feel the same about you, or were you still a summer fling to him? 

Your throat tightened at that thought. Were you becoming too attached when he had his own separate life back home, with no intention of blending you into it? The idea of him with another woman that wasn’t you boiled your blood. Yet, you still skittered on the edge of whether or not your father would even allow the two of you to be together. 

Who were you kidding? You were on your mother’s timeline, it didn’t matter if you wanted to marry him tomorrow. Maybe you could convince yourself that there was still time. Your fears seemed to wash away into the cracks of the sidewalk as you pulled up to the gas station, tucking your bike into the rack beside the front door and greeting the few cars of townspeople you recognized. You were now on a mission, your mind almost blank with everything else. The handful of Cadillacs full of couples in swimsuits that you had familiarized yourself with in school attempted light conversation with you as you vaguely surveyed the station before finally spotting Dean. His dark jumpsuit was, of course, already filthy as he wiped his hands on a towel, in mid-conversation with another mechanic. Your heart felt heavy looking at him again, as if you were seeing him for the first time again. His bright eyes turned to you as if he had sensed your presence, his smile brightening at your appearance as he headed for you.

You fought your blush as you excused yourself from the group and walked to meet him half-way. His usual dapper mood was still prevalent as he stood before you, seemingly pleased that you were there to see him. “Hey, I’d kiss you but-” He began but your impatience and slightly distraught expression sent his brows furrowing. He seemed hesitant to ask you what was wrong, like he knew what you’d chased him down for. He pulled his bottom lip between his gleaming teeth, tucking the towel in his back pocket. 

“I heard you’re leaving soon,” you mumbled, fidgeting with your fingers. You wanted to reach out and touch him despite his begrimed appearance. It was almost your new normal now: not seeing him covered in dirt or grease was almost foreign to you. You fought against begging him to stay with you rather than go back again, or at least take you with him as his curious eyes blueprinted your appearance into his memory. “What kind of soon are we talking?” 

Dean sighed regretfully, looking over his shoulder and gesturing at one of his co-workers before taking one of your hands lightly and stepping into the small station. The one-room business was empty and nearly pristine, evident that only tourists passed in whereas the locals knew not to step foot near it. “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how to. This is probably going to be my last summer here.” You inhaled sharply, attempting to keep your noises of upset to yourself as his eyes saddened, the blue hue deepening. Is this how he felt when you left for school? At least there was a promise you’d be back. “My mum’s getting old and I’ll have to take over soon.” Your mind raced at his words. It seemed like he was finally back in your life and now he was leaving. This time for good. 

Despite your fast track mind trying to figure out how to sneak into his trunk and force him to take you with him, you couldn’t think of what to say to him. “When?” Was all you could manage. 

“Next week.” His words were soft and apologetic. You felt guilty for making him feel like this. You understood; if you were in his shoes you would be doing the same. You looked away from him, blinking towards the ceiling in an attempt to hide your blurring vision, misting by your budding tears. You swallowed harshly, stepping away from him and shaking off your sadness. “Hey,” Dean called for you gently, his hand reaching to touch your wrist to turn you towards him. The way you led into his closeness seemed to make him forget about not wanting to dirty your appearance. He settled his hands alongside your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. You relaxed into his touch almost instantly, your eyes fluttering shut against the stinging tears threatening to fall. His calloused thumb brushed against your cheek. “Just because it’s my last summer doesn’t mean I won’t come back for you if you’ll let me,” his words were like a warm embrace of their own. You sighed and locked eyes with him, hoping to keep the memory of their brightness in the back of your mind. He pulled you closer to him, his lips hovering over yours with a softness like you were a rare flower he was struggling not to crush in his fist. You let your eyes drift shut against the blissful feeling of his breath fanning against your cheek before he pressed his lips against yours, the mix of sadness and worry bleeding away from your mind as the gesture seemed to tell you not to fret over the future anymore. 

The bell above the general store rang into the cool air, breaking the silence in the small shop. You untied the scarf around your head as you stepped towards the cashier’s counter, vaguely thinking of back home when you’d usually be greeted by someone you’d grown up with or someone who’d babysat a friend of yours. The man behind the counter stood up straighter, tucking away the magazine he was skimming and attempting to take in your appearance. You felt like a foreigner in the desert as you stood before him. He was rather tall, with clean overalls strapped over his shoulders. “Can I get a fill up?” You asked, gesturing towards your car parked outside. The man raised his eyebrows before nodding and following you outside. “Do you mind if I wait beside you? I’ve been driving all day,” you added as he flipped open your gas lid and began filling your car. You peered around the two of you, taking in the scenery. This part of England wasn’t much different from your hometown, yet it still felt like you had wound up in an alternate reality. 

“What are you doing across the pond, miss?” The man asked, his eyes quizzing your every move. 

You gave him a small smile, slightly nervous. “I’m visiting my boyfriend actually. He lives down the road, or so I think. I’m kind of lost to be honest...” you mumbled the last part more to yourself as you fished the small scrap of paper out of your pocket with Dean’s address scribbled down. The man gestured slightly, asking if he could take a look and you shrugged, flashing the paper to him. His eyes lit up with recognition and a small chuckle. Before you knew it, the two of you were leaning over the truck of your car with your road map spread out beneath you both, the man explaining the twists and turns on how to get to the house, and you scribbling down a few words to get you out of the woods. 

He closed your car door for you after you climbed in. “Remember, left at the fork, two rights, another left-” 

“And around the bend,” you finished with a grin to match his. “Thank you for your help.”

“Thank me with an invite to the wedding. They’ve been trying to get that boy married off for years!” He jested before sending you on your way. The run-in with the shopkeeper took your mind off the stroke of nervousness that seemed to rattle around in your chest with each turn in the road. You turned up the radio in hopes that your mind would wander away and stay there until you were in front of the man again. After Dean had left, the distance between the two of you was once again agony in a way you’d never have expected it to be on that first day of summer when you met him. You felt like a crazy person as you slowly checked off your list of directions. What were you doing? What if he didn’t want you here? What if he’s moved on? 

You finally made it past the last bend, your hands clammy as your eyes drifted between the road and the scrap of paper once again, looking for the correct numbers. The paper looked about as thin and crumpled as your mental state as you finally spotted a small house surrounded by cherry trees. A school bus sat in front of the driveway and as you grew closer, there he was. Dean stood in front of the door with a young boy clinging to his hand. Dean looked as if he were talking to an old friend, which you weren’t the least bit shocked at. His ability to hold conversations with anyone and everyone was almost annoying to you, but now seeing him like this, it was charming. Then something had been said involving the boy, who shied away, hiding behind one of Dean’s legs. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, attempting to remember who the kid could have been. Surely he wasn’t Dean’s.

Right? 

Dean chuckled and knelt down beside the kid and murmured a few words before the child nodded at him and stepped onto the bus. Dean smiled and waved at whoever the bus driver had been as the vehicle took off. You opened your door and stepped out, catching Dean’s attention. He furrowed his brows as if trying to place you in a setting so far away from what you were used to. He’d cut his hair again, his nose slightly red from the colder air, making his eyes nearly crystal. You wet your lips, unsure of your next move. “Is he yours?” You asked. It seemed like his mind had finally allowed him to recognize that it was indeed you standing at the edge of his yard. 

He shook his head. “My brother’s. First day of year one, you know.” He gestured in the direction the bus had gone with a small smile. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he stated, taking a few steps towards you. You looked at your feet mildly in embarrassment, realizing how out of left field it was to just show up unannounced halfway across the world. He leaned against your car, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. A flannel shirt peeked out from beneath his dark coat, you noticed. The yellow and red leaves around the two of you seemed so out of place compared to the summer flowers and bright blue skies. 

You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for just showing up…” 

He scoffed softly, a smile creeping across his lips. “I’m not.” You forced yourself to make eye contact with him, his excited expression warming your heart and reaching your nearly frozen fingertips. He stood up and wrapped himself around you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply. You let the tension from the last few months evade your body as you tucked your hands around his waist, yearning to touch the softness of his flannel. You weren’t sure how it was possible, but Dean still smelled like the summer sun was settling against his skin. He moved to kiss your cheek, and you met him with a chaste kiss against his lips. You relaxed against his touch. 

“I met your friend at the gas station,” you hummed, turning to look at him. His mouth twisted into a smirk as a flash of disbelief beckoned behind his eyes. “He was very nice.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure he was.” He knotted your fingers with his and pulled you towards the small house, placing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued up the pathway. The home spelled like apple pie and warmth that only a full house in fall could protrude. “Wait, I just remembered,” he stopped you after you both were in the house, discarding a layer or two to hang on the coat tree in the corner. You gave him a tilted expression of worry. “Are you okay with meeting my mom?” You were taken aback slightly with a grin but before you could answer, a woman’s voice beckoned from another room around the corner. Your smile widened and you nudged him in that direction. 

The woman that had called for Dean was stout, with short hair and a kind face which was furrowed in concentration as she bustled around the stove, nursing a freshly made apple pie. “How’d he do? Did he get on the bus okay?” She asked, her expressions still focused on the task at hand. Dean cleared his throat, making her eyes snap up towards the two of you as Dean stepped out of the way between you and his mother. He put a hand on your shoulder, introducing you to her with a rather proud smile on his face. Her hand was warm and inviting as she greeted you after a moment of hesitation. Her sights flashed between Dean and you, as if asking him to pinch her. She smiled brightly as Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders, recounting how he found you digging through the trash like a raccoon, making you roll your eyes and shrug his arm off playfully. It seemed like a click of time went by before she was shooing Dean outside to join the rest of the boys gathering leftover cherries. She looped her arm around yours, dragging you towards the back porch and offering you a seat. 

You smiled to yourself, a rush of memories flooding from the back of your mind as Dean caught your eye. He played bashful, smirking at you from his position on a ladder beside a man that looked almost exactly like him. His cheeks were already a deeper red from the cooler temperature. It seemed like just yesterday you were perched on your own rocking chair, hungry to catch a glimpse of the new farmhand with dark curly hair and bright eyes. His smile was a carbon copy from the first time you met him, yet this time it seemed he looked at you with a sense of content as he watched his mother take to you so easily. “I’m not surprised you showed up here finally.” The woman broke the echo of calming silence that had settled between the two of you. You turned to her in your chair, pulling your eyes away from Dean. “He never shuts up about you. His brother thought you were fake to be honest,” she joked, making you chuckle lightly. “I’m glad you’re not,” she winked. You gave her a small smile before looking out towards the orchard again. 

“I’m sorry to impose, really,” you apologized, a pang of worry thundering in your chest. 

She scoffed. “Please! We were bound to meet sometime anyway,” she gestured towards Dean lightly. “Figured he’d ask you at some point.” Her comment was set at an ease you didn’t think your mother could ever have been at. Her welcoming calmness was comforting to you.

Still, you wet your lips cautiously. “Speaking of that, I actually wanted to talk to you,” you chewed. She put her glasses on top of her head, her eyes searching yours much like Dean’s had so many times before. “I was wondering if I could get your blessing. I want to marry Dean.” You held your breath as she blinked at you. Her eyebrow quirked up and she settled back in her chair with a sly smirk painted across her thin lips. 

“I had to ask his father to marry me, you know? Those Chapman boys,” she sighed. “Where would they be without us.” You scoffed, shocked at her statement. She turned to grin at you before answering her own question. “Probably dying alone, right?” You chuckled lightly. She patted your hand, which rested on the edge of your rocker. “From what I’ve heard, you’re perfect for Dean. I don’t think I could have picked better for him.” You sighed in relief, your nervousness and unsettled stress had finally subsided with her words. 

You waited until the sun had set, spending the day getting to know Dean’s family and attempting to understand the cherry farming business when you barely understood your own father’s crops. Dean’s nephew had nearly jumped into the house after he had finally been released from school for the day; the family members around welcomed him like he had been off to war. Members of the small community in town had shown up at the door bearing casseroles and pies, a tradition for fall nights like this one which you figured you could get used to. And before you knew it, you and Dean were perched side-by-side on the back steps, looking out over the orchard to gaze at the stars overhead. You snuggled up against Dean’s side as he looped an arm around yours, his eyes twinkling with the light from the moon. One of his thumbs absent-mindedly slipped into your sleeve to rub against your wrist. You were beat from the events of the day, or maybe just your ridiculous nerves skyrocketing up and down, but finally you could say you were at peace. You were right where you’d want to be, for as long as you could be. 

You cleared your throat mildly. “Dean, will you marry me?” You asked, seemingly into the dark void of the night, rather than to the man braided into you. He shifted slightly to look at you, making you sit up a bit straighter. 

A cocky grin spread across his face. “I thought you’d never ask,” he jested, making you shove his shoulder and send him into a small giggle fit. “I’m joking,” he breathed, pecking your lips gently. “I’ll marry you if you marry me,” he added. 

You shook your head at his petulant jinxing. “All right, then it’s settled,” you responded. 

“Is there some kind of dowry or do I take you for free?” He taunted with another giggle. 

“I take it back,” you groaned sarcastically. He laughed harder, pulling you closer to him to seal the moment in a kiss. 

[brideofcthulhu10]

Could you write about a girl getting harrassed by max or surfer nazis for a weeks by then and the boys taking notice help her out of a possible dangerous or taboo situation and let her join their lil coven? I know you could write something really awesome!

I goofed and forgot this was an answer to an ask haha! Okay so I'm gonna give fair warning, this is gonna get a bit graphic. I mean you wanted a traumatic taboo, and, well, wish granted!

Initiation's Over, Time to Join the Club

Poly!Lost Boys × Fem! S/O

+18 CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Themes, Sexual Assault, Potential Triggers, Violence, Gore, Offensive Language! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

It had only been a few days since you tried to break free of the Santa Carla gang known as the Surf Nazis. Doing so proved far more difficult than you could have imagined. You couldn’t even be on the boardwalk anymore. They were everywhere, as soon as you were spotted former friends would crowd around you. They weren’t stupid enough to do anything physical, but they’d harass you to the point of running back home. There was one reason that you kept coming back. 

The boys.

 You started talking to them earlier this summer. Purely by accident. You had gone on your own to get a quick food run at the Kung Pao Lotus, and somehow got your order mixed up with the smallest of the group, Marko. You managed to catch him as he was leaving the restaurant and somehow that was all you needed. They took to you so quickly. Polyamory was such a foreign concept, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. But as your feelings developed over these past few months, you found yourself falling victim to each of their charms. There was just something so other worldly about the bikers. It was an unspoken mystery that only drew you in further. WHenever they had to leave for the night you’d ask them if you could join, but they all seemed particularly against the suggestion. There was always an air of discomfort, like they had something they didn’t want you to see. Regardless, Marko, Dwayne, Paul and David had swept you off your feet into the dark Santa Carla nightlife, and soon you found yourself making the choice between them, or your old gang.

But when you tried to back out of their so called “rivals”- honestly only the SN’s thought of themselves that way, things got nasty. A few of them started showing up around your neighborhood. You could see them in busted down trucks or rumbling motorcycles just strolling through your neighborhood. Your mom’s car was trashed, absolutely covered in spray paint, your garage was vandalized, trash bins were dumped out all over your yard- you were starting to get scared. 

Even still you avoided bringing up the subject to the boys. You didn’t need them worrying about something like this. After all, you were a big kid, you could handle yourself. Whenever your ex-friends walked by on the boardwalk David would raise his brow when you ducked behind them, quickly covered by an excuse.

“Sorry I thought I saw a quarter on the ground,” you’d throw out, nervously standing up.

Even Paul was beginning to notice your uneasiness whenever Surf Nazi’s circled your path.

“Listen, kitten,” Paul assured, sitting on the steps beside you while you picked at your cotton candy. “If those assholes are giving you shit.. We can protect you, babes. You just say the word and I’ll rip their heads off.”

“Me too babes,” Marko would chime in, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “All it takes is one word.”

The suggestion of mass slaughter just didn’t sit well with you and you shook your head. “No, guys don’t worry it’s just a bunch of petty pranks. They haven’t done anything that bad. I promise.”

You were so certain that in a few days they’d grow bored. After all, it had been a week and a half by now! Things couldn’t escalate more than they already were. While they weren’t your friends anymore, they still wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?

It was a late August afternoon, maybe an hour before sunset. Today was a record breaking heat wave, the hottest it had been today was almost one hundred and eleven degrees. It was your mom’s idea to send you to the beach instead of sulking at the house. Truthfully you were a little glad you did.

The ocean was just beautiful, cradling the slowly setting sun leaving streaks of pink and blue stained with the slowly encroaching touch of night. Stars speckled the darkest corners. Pulling out your polaroid you couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures for Marko. He loved it whenever you brought him any day time photos. They never came out before sunset, you just assumed maybe they were busy elsewhere until late afternoon. If you tried to invite them out during the day they’d each give you a disappointed response.

“Shhiiiiit, kitten,” Paul would sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, we would if we could,” Marko would try to assured you, holding your hands in his. Dwayne would nod along.

“Daytime just isn’t our time.”

David would tilt your chin up with a calm smile. Somehow you just knew whatever it was, he’d tell you when you were ready. “I’m sure you understand, doll. I hope you aren’t too disappointed?”

“Oh! N-No, of course not. It’s just a trip to the museum, I doubt you guys would like it anyway.”

Oh well… Instead of fretting, you tried to savor your peaceful moments, 

This week had already been such a pain. It was a welcome change to just walk through the rolling shores, wading past clumps of bubbly sea foam. Closer to the caves you could spot surfacing tide pools where little sand crabs shuffled just beneath the surface. Greenish anemones shuddered at your tender touch and would retreat within themselves. If you were lucky you spotted a few whole mussel shells! You kept an old bag slung over your shoulder with a towel and a change of clothes, planning to change out of your (print/color) bikini and wrap skirt once the sun had fully gone down. Maybe then you could meet up with the boys for another night out. As you began to approach the rocky coast lines skirted across the abandoned hotel you could hear muffled snickers just barely audible above the ocean’s song.

At first you assumed them to just be maybe a group of tourists, probably drunk off their butts. When you tried to continue walking towards the hotel they grew closer. Footsteps kicked up into a pursuit. When they turned over the outstretched caves you easily recognized the greased up surfers sporting frosted tips, skunk striped hair and shredded up clothing. They continued to chase after you until you had managed to duck into a cave off the edge, but even still they followed. Now you were cornered.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Ricky,” you hissed, trying to cover yourself with your arms. “Look I left alright! I don’t wanna be a part of whatever it is you guys have going on!”

“What, can’t old friends just say hi?” You could see he brought Tank and Munk with him, both sporting grins that you knew meant nothing good. Every time they took a step forward that made you take two more back.

“Yeah right,” Munk tried to agree, shrugging. “Aren’t we friends anymore, Y/N?”

“Don’t you wanna play? We came all this way so we could hang out.” Tank circled next to Ricky. Your heart raced so loud it made your ears hurt. They were cornering you! With rapid head movements you tried to find any alternate pathway that could get you out, but all of them were too high up! Any access to the further cave systems had been smashed to pieces! Your best bet was trying to wedge yourself between the three thugs.

You had to wait. Holding out just until that golden opportunity revealed itself to you. Just as Tank moved slightly further than Munk you found a thin opening. With everything you had, you bottled forward trying to push past. Success! 

Two steps in and you felt yourself torn back by your hair. The sharp sting caused you to shriek, grasping at the base of your scalp in an attempt to provide yourself any semblance of relief. Day light was grown thin. At this point you did everything to fight out of their grasp. Kick, thrash, punch! At one point you swear you caught a good chunk of Ricky’s skin under your nails. He hissed, throwing you against the drenched cave walls. The cold, damp sand beneath your feet felt solid while you tried to pry yourself up. Not this time. Munk pinned you by your arms, snickering at your terror.

“No! Stop it! Get away from me,” You cried, tyring to kick at Ricky. His fingers quickly tore your skirt off, looking down at the wet bikini still clinging to your body.

“Nooo, stop it, get away,” he mocked in a shrill tone. He forced your face up to look at him, his thumb and pointer finger squeezing your chin tightly. “You fuckin’ asked for this, walkin’ around like miss high and mighty!”

“She's just too good for the Surf Nazi’s now, eh Ricky?” Tank chuckled at the suggestion, arms crossed.

“Nah, I don’t think she’s good enough for us, that’s why little miss Y/N left,” Munk added, licking your cheek. The wet appendage dragged across your jawline to your cheek. It was enough to raise the bile in your stomach as you wrenched your face away.

“Well,” Ricky added, just as the sun went down sapping up any lingering light and leaving you in utter darkness. Your sobs echoed in the cave. There was nothing in the darkness, a pair of calloused hands grasping at your legs. When you tried to kick a swift sting crashed into your mouth. The blunt force made your ears ring, a bitter copper taste staining your mouth. Worst of all, you could feel unwelcome fingers prodding at the flesh kept beneath your bikini bottoms. “I bet you she’s good enough for one thing, don’t you think, Y/N? What’s say we give that cute little pussy of yours some play time, hm?”

There was sheer and utter panic. You continued to scream until your throat was shredded. The uncontrollable urge to vomit tempted your stomach when he tried to tease you from over the fabric. You must’ve wiggled out of someone’s grasp because you managed to lift your leg into the air sending a solid kick his way. “You fuck bitch! I’m gonna- wha-? Ahhh! What the fu- AHHHHHHH!”

There was a massive gust of air just past you that swept across. Ricky’s blood curdling screams dissolved into a hideous cacophony of squelching splatters. Munk still had a grasp on your arms, rapidly trying to search for his accomplice. “Ricky? Ricky man, what the fuck happened?! Tank where is he?”

Again another burst of air, but this time an echoing cackle followed. Low, rumbling. It delighted in their panic, or rather, he did. Whatever hidden male lurked in the shadows made quick work of another. Tank’s screams echoed through the cave. Again more sickly sounds of torn flesh followed by an eerie silence. “Tank? Tank answer me, man! What the fuck is this, what's going on?!”

Your own eyes began adjusting to the darkness. You could see a form walking your way, another higher pitched snicker eager to drag you into the same jaws of presumably horrid fates that had taken Ricky and Tank. You tightly shut your eyes, anticipating your inevitable demise.

There was no such occurrence. Finally your arms were released by Munk and his terror swept through the caves. You clung tightly to yourself in the darkness, trembling at the enclosing footsteps you could hear just over his screams.

“Looks like we made it just in time, kitten,” a voice asked clearly. You froze in place. It couldn’t be. 

You still couldn’t make out much, but that heavy scent of aftershave coupled by an ancient musk, like the aged pages of a beloved book told you all you needed to know. Tears stung your eyes. It was almost impossible to breathe through it, blubbering into the arms of a familiar comfort that were already spread to grasp you.

“David! Oh god, David,” You sobbed, crashing into his torso trying to muddle the sickening stench Ricky had left on you.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he softly coaxed, the soothing sensation of him petting your hair putting you at ease. “It’s all over.”

You could hear the other boys approaching you, even still you couldn’t see them.

“I told you we’d protect you, kitty-cat,” a laid back tone assured you, placing a hidden hand on your shoulder. Paul.

“I think it’s becoming too dangerous for you out here.” The firm, tender voice of Dwayne spoke up. The sand beneath your body sunk to accommodate his weight. His calloused fingers brushed away loose hair you didn’t even realize was in your face. Another hopped down from… above?

But.. there were no overhead platforms, just cave ceilings caked in stalactites. What had even happened? The jingles of jewelry over leather were followed by a tender face  laying atop your shoulder nestled in the crook of your neck. Curls tickled your cheek, Marko’s lips sending chills over your flesh as he spoke beside your ear.

“If you want, Y/N, you could be with us all the time. If you were one of us, we’d never let things like this happen to you.”

One… One of them? 

“What-,” you tried to ask, still tightly held in David’s arms. You tried to look up, but there was only a thick blackness barely outlined by an ever darker form. “One of- of you? What… are you guys?”

Now you knew why that rolling chuckle earlier sounded so familiar. David’s chest rumbled against you as he couldn’t help but laugh. You could feel the worn leather of his gloves caress your face. His hand traced your features and cradled them tenderly in his palm.

“Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion raised your flesh, chills tricking down the base of your spine as if you were frozen in the grasp of a predator. The darkness, the way they avoided sunlight! The way… the way they came to your rescue. When you needed them most. 

“Y-...,” you halted your answer. This time you really pondered it all. But even still there was a certainty to your thoughts. Your body and soul knew what they wanted. All it took was one little word.

“Yes”

Now you could see him. Well, not all of him. Just a pair of bright, luminescent white eyes wrapped in hellish spirals of red. Then there was another set. And another. Four sets of eyes all ready for you. A sharp pain surged through your neck, but you didn’t dare scream. For each set of eyes there was a following sting. Neck, shoulder, wrist, arm… and then you saw them all perfectly within the dark. The unyielding pain had brought a perfect clarity, and an unexpected stillness within your ribs. You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping away the puddles of blood smeared across David’s face. His grin spread wide, fangs still dripping with freshly drawn rubies that had stained your body red. Now it was your turn to grin, a fresh pair of fangs bared for your new dearest mates to admire in this dank, dark cave.  

[originofjaehyun]

Prelude: After Story | Part 1 | Punch

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 2,929

Warnings: None

Part 1 | Punch

“‘Cause I’m a clean fighter.”

Next

Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian​ @elauniesdream 

“Make sure you tell him how you felt.”

The remark only received a giggle from the other party. “I’m not promising anything, Yuta. It will take time.”

Yuta took a final glance. There’s a hint of despair in the way he looked at her. “You packed everything?”

She nods. “I think so. Let me know if I left something. Well, that if you don’t mind. Else, you can throw them away.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know.” He smirked. There’s a pregnant pause before he continues. “I’ll see you when I see you, [Y/N]. Until then, please be well.”

Yuta could see she welled up, holding up her tears. He wished he could hug her and tell her that it will be fine, but that only contradicted the brave front he showed to her.

She finally waves her final goodbye, closing the door. It is a signal for Yuta to finally embrace his sadness. Legs gave in, he immediately crouched down, sighing.

“Damn, who would’ve thought I could fall for someone this much?” Brushing the hair that covers his forehead, he asked himself, with no one to answer.

Yuta walked to his bathroom, thinking that he would cool his head by taking a brisk shower. He took off his shirt, pausing in front of the sink before he entered the shower booth. He stared at his own reflection, blankly. No thoughts, head is empty. He just needs his time to process and to cope with his own heartbreak.

There are few objects that don't belong to him, and by then he noticed that she forgot to visit the bathroom when she cleared her stuff, leaving her toothbrush behind. He curled one side of his lips up, sighing regretfully before throwing the toothbrush to the trash bin nearby.

This is so I can forget about her faster.

Yuta taught to himself, before spotting another foreign item.

A pair of rose gold stud earrings. Yuta knows his pieces of jewelry because he never took off his. The simple design of the earrings is also a bit too plain for his liking, and the owner of them is no other than the person who just left this place.

He grabs it, about to throw them away. But hesitates, gripping the earrings inside his palm. 

Yuta looks at the earring once more.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the only part of you that I could keep?

–

Days pass per normal for Yuta. Except that the people around him notice that he’s anything but it.

“You alright, bro?” Doyoung tapped his shoulder, waking Yuta from his daze.

“What do you mean?” Yuta leans to the wall, inhaling his IQOS.

“I don’t know man, you’re off these days.” Doyoung took a sip of his grapefruit drink. “It seems like you have something on your mind. Have you talked to [Y/N] about it?”

Ah, so she hasn’t told him.

Yuta thought to himself, not responding to Doyoung as he drew out a translucent smoke.

“She might not be the best at giving advice, cause even she had a hard time figuring out herself. But I promise she’s a good listener, I’m sure she'll be able to give you some sort of comfort.”

Yuta just nodded to his statement.

He nodded because he himself knew how comfortable it was to be around her.

–

Yuta holds grudges. It was hard for him to admit it at first, but eventually, he accepts the annoying part of his personality. Fast forward five months after she left, Yuta still refused to go out. This clearly weirded everyone out since Yuta is the social butterfly. For him to reject their offer to visit the bar after office makes the lines on their foreheads more apparent than ever.

Yuta just needs some time, alone. He doesn’t know for how long, but what he knows is that he’s just not in the mood to put on a fake happy smile when his own heart is like a shipwreck.

So he spent another night in at his apartment, opening a bottle of rye whiskey. Truthfully, Yuta prefers sweeter booze –something that is more fruity like his usual Cassis Orange. However these days, those cocktails couldn’t shred his woe. He needs something stronger. He needs to be able to feel the burning sensation on his chest, replacing the pain of his heartache.

He went off to flump into the leather couch, putting down the glass of whiskey. He grabs the remote, browsing through the Netflix catalog. He stops, at one move named Kimi no Na wa.

He probably already watched this for million times. He loves this movie. Not only because of the well-executed animation and storyline, but it also reminds him of home.

And it painfully reminds him of her too. How she loved anime, and how her eyes glimmered every time Yuta told her a fun fact about Japanese culture.

“Did you know there’s a trivia behind her name?”

“Who? Mitsuha?”

Yuta nods, “Her name means three leaves. Funnily enough, it started from her grandmother, Hitoha which means one leaf. And you guessed it, her mother’s name, Futaba, means two leaves and her little sister, Yotsuha, is four leaves.”

“Whoa!” She shrieked excitedly. “That’s cute!”

Yuta laughed at the sight of her getting excited over something simple like this. It’s nothing much for a Japanese man like him, but for her it’s something new and Yuta finds it very adorable.

If she was still here, he would cross his arm over her shoulder. Cuddling her.

But right now, all he could do is to rest his arm on the backrest of his couch. The only warmth that he could feel is from the whiskey.

Unable to focus on the movie, so he diverted his attention to see his phone.

Oh, how he regrets it.

He saw her social. She was with a group of people that Yuta knew from that party. But his finger reactively clicked on one of the tagged name’s profiles.

Just to see him posted a photo of her. It was a candid photo, the person captured in the picture seemingly asked the photographer to stop. Her hands were blurred because she attempted to cover her mouth.

But she wasn’t quick enough to stop the photographer from capturing her smile. A smile so bright Yuta knew he wasn’t able to create. A smile that Yuta definitely misses.

The agony he felt amplified once he read the capture below the photo.

“I was yours, before I knew; and you have always been mine too.”

Yuta rolled his tongue over his front teeth. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he is the one who let her go. But he is pissed, throwing his phone away. 

He moves his palms to cover his eyes, resting his head. He lets out another sigh, but no matter how much he exhaled, no matter how much alcohol he drank, the rain cloud seems to follow him around.

“Fuck this shit.” He hummed to himself.

He took his phone again, this time opening a different app. It took him a bit longer this time, but at least whatever he was doing, managed to put a smile on Yuta’s face.

He then proceeds to dial a number.

“Hello, Doy? I’ll take a week off. I’m flying to Osaka tomorrow.”

–

“How could you come back home without noticing us?”

Yuta puts down his bag, worn out from the flight, “I can’t even visit my own home now, Nee-san?”

“What I meant was,” His sister crossed his arm. “Last time you visited Osaka, you’d stay at the hotel because you wouldn’t stay long. Mostly due to your business trip. What makes you suddenly miss home?”

“I just feel like taking some days off, Nee-san.” He replied without looking at this sister, busy unpacking his stuff. “Also, Imouto has been texting me, telling me to bring her some signed goods from TVXQ.”

“Well if you said so,”  Her sister knows how stubborn Yuta is, so she decides that she won’t press him further. “Come down when you’re ready. If only you told us you were coming earlier, mom would’ve cooked us Nabe. But we don’t have the ingredients, so you have to settle with curry tonight.”

Yuta finally looked back to smile at his sister, “Curry sounds great, Nee-san.”

–

It’s great to be home, Yuta thought to himself. 

The familiar road. People talking in his mother language. Food that is catered to fit his taste buds. He loves Korea, and everything it has to offer, but nothing could replace home.

“My, Yuta is that you?!” An elderly woman called for him, snapping him from his day daze.

“Oh, Baa-chan!” Yuta subconsciously lets out his signature radiant smile. “How are you? I hope your back is fine now.”

“Oh, you’re as sweet as I could remember, Yuta!” She giggled. “You never visit your home, this Baa-chan misses you a lot, you know? I don’t know how to use… what do they call those these days? Line?”

Yuta laughed. “Yes, Line, Baa-chan.”

“Right, I can’t contact you! You should come home more often. I could write you a letter but I don’t know your address in Korea.”

“I miss you too, Baa-chan. Sorry, I promise to visit again.”

Baa-chan sells taiyaki in his neighborhood. Yuta is her regular customer, and she has witnessed how much Yuta grew from a small boy who aspires to be an Ultraman to a successful businessman he is right now. Yuta settled on the bench in front of Baa-chan’s store, filling her with the missing information pieces where Yuta finally left home for his career.

“Now take this,” She offered him a bag of taiyakis.

“Oh, no Baa-chan. Let me pay,” He rustles his pant pocket, trying to find his wallet.

“My dear Yuta!” She pushes the paper bag to him, “This is a gift from me, as a thank you for visiting this old lady. Next time, bring your friend here so they can pay instead. Baa-chan wants to see your friends, I want to make sure they are good people.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. Baa-chan is always kind, and it touches his heart. Yuta treats her like she’s her own grandmother. “I’ll note that, Baa-chan.”

He waves goodbye to her and marches his way to a nearby park. The park used to be so big for the small Yuta. He used to think it would take forever to catch a ball that flies after his friend kicked it too high. But now that he’s a full-grown man, he even wonders how the hell he was able to play soccer with his friend in this field. 

He sits down at the bench, taking a bite of the fresh taiyaki. Baa-chan’s taiyaki is the best. It might be a biased opinion, but every bite is like a memory lane for Yuta. The irreplaceable taste of childhood.

The dusk is near, and there is no child laughter at these hours since all of them have their curfews. With nothing to keep him entertained, he unlocked his phone, casually browsing through his social before pausing his munching at one post.

“Can’t believe this man asked me to spend the rest of my life with him while I’m about to throw the trash away. I hope your future daughter will experience a much more romantic proposal, you weirdo.”

Involuntarily the red bean paste from his bread squirted out, due to the fact Yuta unconsciously squeezed them. Was it out of anger? Out of disappointment? Or out of regret?

His blood is boiling, and with nobody around, nothing stops him. Yuta is usually calm, but right now he just wants to transfer the excessive anger somewhere. Heck, the tree next to him can be his punching bag.

My mom always told me to finish my meal so you’re not leaving until you eat everything.

But right now, Yuta is unable to take another bite. He even forced whatever he had left on his mouth down to his throat.

Why did I let you go?

He scoffed, mocking his own thought, “Damn, what a pathetic person you are, Yuta.”

-

Your first impression on Yuta is probably how strong his aura is. His gaze is sharp, complemented with a well-chiseled jawline. So you would never think that the same person has a sensitive soul. Ever since his trip to Japan, the Nakamato residence in Seoul is always decorated with fresh flowers, handpicked by Yuta himself. This is his way of finding peace. He always wanted to have a pet, but his busy schedule makes him unable to own one. Instead, he’s been paying more attention to greeneries in his home. He said it was a therapy for him, and having a living plant makes the place alive, so he claims.

The bell on the door jingles after Yuta pushes the door open, cueing the staff who were busy arranging a bouquet to greet him.

“Welcome to Paradise!”

Yuta nods at the staff, telling her to continue with her arrangement and let him browse the flower catalog by himself.

Soon after, the bell jingles once more —only to reveal a young man with a sparkly eyes.

“Sorry, __! Taeyong left his apron behind so I have to make a visit to Kitchen Beat first.”

The person at the counter chuckled, “Don’t sweat it, Mark. We’re not that busy today anyway.”

“Let me put my bag first, then I’ll help to cut the stems of the carnations—“ Mark’s eyes grow bigger once he sees the familiar figure. “Yuta-hyung? Ah, I mean, Sir!”

Yuta turned at the sound of his name. “Oh, if it isn’t Mark!”

“Didn’t expect you to come here, Sir.”

“You can talk to me comfortably, Mark. We’re no strangers.” Yuta smiles. “Fancy seeing you here, too. Are you part-timing here?”

Mark nods. “Other than my job as an English tutor, working here actually calms me down. Maybe the flower gives the peaceful atmosphere?”

Yuta hummed, agreeing with his statement.

“Also, I can rest a bit because working here is not as busy as working at a cafe.” Mark continues, “Though we’re going to be busy pretty soon since Jaehyun-hyung ordered so many orchids for his wedding. Man, not just any orchid! If only he knows how difficult it is to obtain—“

Mark stopped at the sight of Yuta’s awkward face.

“Shit, Mark, how could you forget that he was your Noona’s ex-lover.”

He whispered to himself, but the store was fairly quiet with only faint instrumental song in the background —enabling Yuta to listen to each of his words clearly.

Your noona.

“Mark, go change to your uniform.” A female voice breaks the tension, flinching Mark who reactively gives Yuta a deep bow afterward.

Yuta definitely needs time to process what just happened. Pressing his lips together while occasionally biting the skin.

“A cheerful young boy, isn’t he?”

Yuta woke up from his daydream following her calm voice. “Mark is energetic, and I love how positive his energy is. Though sometimes, that can cause him to be slightly dense, too.”

Yuta couldn’t help but to let a single soft chuckle.

“So please forgive him, yeah? I’m sorry I couldn’t help but to overheard your conversation. Don’t take it to the heart, Mark was probably too excited. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. No offense is taken. I just need some time to digest it.”

“Take your time,” she continued with her bouquet, tying up the ribbon as the final touch. “Though, if I could suggest, I think our daffodils are very pretty today.”

“Daffodils?”

“Yes, the yellow ones on that corner,” she pointed at a bunch of yellow flowers. “I’ll help you with a bunch. It’s on a house, as an apology from making you uncomfortable just now. Are you going to put it on a vase like the usual or are you going to give it to someone?”

Yuta widened his eyes, quickly shook his head, “Oh please no need, I’m not offended by all means.”

“As the owner of this shop, I insist, Sir.”

Yuta hesitates, but eventually gives in. “The usual. Actually, a single bloom is fine. I would feel bad, you know, if you're going to give me a bunch. Business is still business after all.”

His remarks only caused the other party to scoff, “Our business is doing well, Sir. So please don’t fret on it. Anyway, it would mean a different thing if I don’t give you in a bunch.”

“Different thing?”

“Ah,” She closes her mouth with her hand. “Don’t mind too much on it.”

-

After spending the whole day outside, all Yuta needs is a refreshing shower to wash down his sweat. He placed his new floral arrangement on his dining table, before taking his shirt off when he walked towards the bathroom. He threw his shirt to the laundry bag, and unlocked his phone, ready to play his shower playlist.

Bunch of daffodils?

He suddenly remembered how the florist mentioned the different meaning of daffodils. He quickly changed the tab, typing the question on Google.

Smirk appeared on his face, after so many days shied away from the surface.

“Rebirth and new beginnings, huh?” He said to himself. “How cheeky.”

He puts down his phone on the countertop, resting his arms at the sink before looking at himself in the mirror.

Yuta is determined.

He picks up his phone once more, dialing a number.

“Doyoung, do you know the best hair salon here?”

A/N: We’re back with this!! I’m so so excited to continue this hehe~ To be honest... continuing this series gives me a lot of anxiety. What if the audience don’t like it? What if the one who loves Interlude won’t like my approach on continuing the story in Yuta’s POV? At some point it was difficult for me to write this, but as I persistently write this, it became more and more enjoyable and eventually those thoughts don’t appear as much!

Another thing to note, to prevent any confusion, the reader for Prelude will be ___ instead of the usual [Y/N]. [Y/N] belongs to Interlude! So think of her as another character for Prelude!

Also again, I’d like to remind you guys again since there’s only three additional songs, this would be a mini-series instead of a full series like Interlude. But hopefully, you would still give Prelude tons of love too!

[katieurah]

Guys, I can’t get Elorcan as Zoommates outta my head. So I write it. And it’s a mess. But here I am posting anyways. Yikes.

Forgive my terrible attempts at writing out sounds of a coffee grinder. I hear one every morning, but still..... 

Also, still titleless.

..........................................................

Whiiirrrrrrr. Sccrrrrr. Whiiiiiirrrrr.

Lorcan glared with bleary eyes at his coffee grinder struggling to keep up with the too-large scoop he’d tossed in that morning. He opened the latch and poured the grounds out into the pour over basket and set it to steep.

Extra butter went on his toast that morning, fried eggs instead of a healthy protein shake, and regular bacon - not turkey baked in the oven. Oh, no, not today, he’d thought as he laid the strips in the cast iron pan. He needed all the grease, comfort, and caffeine life could afford him for his day.

Seven months. Seven months, one week, and four days to be exact. His goddaughter’s dedication was perfect. The day was perfect. Until.

He finished his coffee, plated his breakfast, and walked to the office to turn on his system. And brood. Apparently he was good at that.

Elide. She was the other perfect thing about that day. But, apparently he was as self-absorbed as she claimed. How did he not know about that break-up? He and Elide were friends. They had a connection. A spark. Or so he thought. 

As Rowan’s oldest friend and former military buddy, he’d always been around. He knew Elide from the start of Rowan and Aelin’s relationship. Aelin’s cousin was more like a sister and was always there. They talked. They chatted about life. He thought they were friends. Then one day, friends didn’t seem like enough. He didn’t like that she went home earlier than everyone else and he couldn’t seem to talk to her. He had tried to compose about a million different texts to her, but nothing seemed right. He followed her Instagram and Facebook, but messaging her there felt like he’d just be sliding into her DMs, which made Lorcan’s skin crawl.

But, how had he not known about the breakup? How had he not known there was someone to break up with? She never said a word. Had she? He speared his fork through an egg and watched the clock. His computer system was up and running, but he realized after Elide’s haste and hatred in logging off yesterday, they never specified times for working today. He really thought 7:00 was too early to be video calling her. Mornings were not her thing. She’d probably shoot a virus through to his system. And if anyone could get one in his through his security protocols and firewalls, it was her. 

He ran through a few of his other projects while waiting, sipping his coffee and watching the clock. As 8:30 rolled around, he logged into the chat portal to ask what time they should start. As he was typing the first words, the screen lit up with a message:

>> Okay, Salvaterre. What time are we doing this?

He smirked at the sass in those eight words.

<< Whenever you want, Lochan. I’m all set up.

>> Gimme 5.

He chuckled as he imagined her getting her area cleaned off, checking her hair, and taking deep breaths before logging on. 

The 3-tone alert for a video chat came through and Lorcan switched the camera and mic on. Here we go.

…

Elide scrambled to get her hair pulled into a semi-decent bun on her head. She was at least wearing a nicer sweater this morning, even if she was still rocking glasses and no-makeup. Deeming her work area decent enough to be seen on camera, she grabbed her iced coffee and pressed the call button. 

Deep breaths. Deep. Breaths. 

Lorcan Salvaterre was on this planet to torment her, she was sure of it. They’d been… acquaintances? Friends? Something? Ever since Aelin and Rowan had started dating, Elide and Lorcan were along for the ride. They had a lot in common. It was so easy to talk to him. They had fun together. He made her laugh. She soon wondered how easy it would be to date. To hold hands, to kiss, to… everything. But he’d never seemed interested in more than whatever it was they’d been, so she went on dates. She went out with other guys and even a few second dates. Then a real relationship. For a few months anyways. She was sure she’d told him about it. 

Anyways, who asks someone else out while they’re crying from a break up? And while they’re buzzed? Ridiculous.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Nice of you to join me,” Lorcan crooned, eyebrow raised, small smile on his face. She was not a morning person. Never had been. And he knew it.

“Can we not? I haven’t even finished my coffee yet and it’s too early for your….your… it’s just too early…” She groaned at not even being able to formulate snark this early.

“What you’re drinking - that’s not coffee. It’s cream and sugar pretending to be all grown up.”

“Oh, yes, because your pretentious single-sourced pour-over makes you an expert,” Elide sniped back. Lorcan always drank the strongest, blackest coffee and it was always some single-origin that he had various methods for brewing. 

It would be too easy to fall into their banter. Too easy to believe he wasn’t an asshole. She needed some distance between them before it got too comfortable.

“So, I’ve been asked to make sure support services on the public side and the internal side secure and protect privacy rights. Here’s how we’re currently trying to keep that up,” Elide said as she launched into discussing protocols, servers, firewalls, identity management systems, and anything else they thought was necessary.

Lorcan was all business, professional to a fault, and courteous as they shared information. He asked great questions and traded scenarios with her. They worked for several hours getting a feel for what each department offered and wanted.

At noon, Elide’s stomach rumbled, drawing a chuckle from Lorcan.

“Geeze, El, hiding a gremlin over there? Go eat. We can pick up after one, yeah?”

She scowled back at him. Teasing her and using a nickname? Nope. “Sure, Salvaterre,” she said shortly, trying to put distance back between them. She almost felt guilty when she thought he looked startled, but his face went back to it’s neutral, calm, emotionless expression. She logged off the video chat and rubbed her hands over her face. How was this ever going to work?

…

As the chat window went dark, Lorcan sighed through his nose. He tried. He still had no idea why her ire with him went that deep. 

Lorcan strolled to his kitchen to get his protein shake ready. Before he could start the blender, his phone chimed. He swiped at the screen to read the messages.

Young Pup: So, old man, how’s the “partnership” going?

Lorcan sighed again. Fenrys somehow knew he and Elide were working together. This couldn’t be good.

Sarge: Fine.

He watched the three dots bounce and disappear a few times. 

Young Pup: Elide’s not got your balls in a twist yet?

Hawkeye has been added to the chat.

Lorcan groaned. Fen adding Rowan wasn’t a good sign either.

Young Pup: Ro, do we need to have an intervention with El? Two days working with the old man here and yet he’s alive and responding to our messages. Somethings wrong!

Hawkeye: Fen, knock it off. 

Hawkeye: El’s a professional. I give it a week before we need to worry about her.

Lorcan rolled his eyes and didn’t even worry about checking Fenrys’ reply and put the phone on vibrate. He finished making his shake and walked to the living room. As he sat on the couch, his phone buzzed for a phone call. Glancing at the screen, Lorcan saw Rowan’s name at the top of the screen. He sighed and answered. 

“I’m playing nice, I promise.”

Rowan laughed softly on the other end. “I bet. Look, Fen found out that you needed to work with their support services department and put two and two together about Elide. Aelin and I knew that Elide’s boss was going to ask you two to work together…” He trailed off, as if he didn’t know how to finish that thought.

“Just because we haven’t seen each other or spoken in months doesn’t mean I can’t do my job,” Lorcan said, a bite to his words.

“Hey, man, I know you can. It’s not that...It’s… Look, A is just worried. You two are Ellie’s godparents and you’re at odds right now. And I’m a little worried, too, about you both. You’ll let me know if things get worse, right?”

“Yeah, man, of course.”

“Good. And-” Rowan suddenly swore. “I gotta go. Ellie’s crying and A’s in the shower. Call me later and we’ll talk, yeah?”

“Sure.” Lorcan hung up. He looked at the time, downed his shake, and went back to his computers. Security systems and technology, those things he knew. People? Women? Foreign languages to him. He still couldn’t figure out why Elide was so pissed with him. Couldn’t figure out why Rowan and Aelin thought things would get worse. And now it was affecting his job.

It was going to be a long project.

[marril96]

Far From You

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: With quarantine having taken its toll on your relationship, you decide to win Rowena back by all means necessary.

A/N: Huge thanks to my awesome friend @midnightsilver for the prompt.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Rowena was in a bad mood. Which wasn't a novelty; grumpiness seemed to be one of the woman's default settings, right alongside whining and attention-craving. However, the imposed quarantine seemed to have taken its toll on her, her regular irritation rising to levels that were, at best, barely tolerable, and, at worst, made you want to go outside and hug the sickest-looking stranger in order to get some time away from her.

It wasn't always that bad, though. For the most part, she just sat in silence and huffed and rolled her eyes at random things. That was, when she wasn't cursing out the politicians and the irresponsible people who'd made these safety measures necessary on the TV — a few times quite literally cursing them, eyes sparkling violet as she willed her magic to strike.

To say she was handling it badly would be an understatement.

Rowena was a social creature. As happy as being home with you made her, she loved to travel. Loved to explore different places, experience the world, get to know it. Being holed up in a house was worse than prison. At least prison could be escaped from without fear of catching a nasty disease.

It wasn't that she was afraid of dying. The devil himself hadn't managed to kill her, and neither would a measly virus. But she wasn't too thrilled about the possibility of getting sick. So she stayed home. Like a good little girl, she obeyed the officials' rules and holed up, leaving only when it was her turn to get the groceries.

Though she tried not to let it get to her, the changes in her temper made it clear she wasn't handling the situation well.

Not that you were any better. You weren't an adventurer like her, but you missed your freedom. Missed walking the streets, the sun bathing your hair, Rowena's hand in yours, a wordless but firm statement that she was yours. Missed heading to different restaurants, or ordering delicious food home. Missed Rowena randomly telling you to pack your bags, a promise of a new, exciting adventure sparkling in her eyes.

But, most of all, you missed Rowena. You were living in the same house, yet, as of late, it had started to feel like you were strangers. You still talked, but it was strained, distant. Like two random passengers on a plane discussing the weather to pass the time. You barely touched each other. When you kissed, it was pecks on the cheeks and mouth — solely initiated by you. An empty, passionless habit. A learned routine rather than a loving gesture. And sex… you'd engaged in it twice since the quarantine had taken place, and it, too, lacked its usual passion.

The quarantine had taken its toll on your relationship.

Today, sick of the distance, of the constant cold amidst the warm house, you decided to fight it. Decided to fight for your relationship. Things were horrible, not just in the United States but everywhere in the world, but that didn't mean your life had to be the same way. You could still live. You could still be the couple you'd worked hard to become.

What you had was worth fighting for.

So when Rowena went on another tirade against politicians as she watched the morning news (looking quite ready to throw her steaming mug of tea at the TV), you said in your most irritated tone, "Okay, I get it — you hate them. No need to get so worked up. It's not like they give a damn."

The look she shot you had to have killed before. You would have been frightened had you not known her the way you did. She might have been a serious threat, but when it came to you, she was a puppy. A cute, glare-y puppy who finally paid attention to you after days of nothing.

You plopped down next to her on the couch, set your mug next to hers, and shot her your brightest smile. "Hi!"

Rowena rolled her eyes in the fashion of a trained theater actress. Over the top, dramatic, her style to a T. She picked up a large grimoire that was resting next to her and spread it open on her lap. It was one of her newer books, acquired mere days before the quarantine had taken place. You'd looked forwards to exploring them with her, learning new things, asking questions she would pretend to be annoyed at but would answer with the ferocity of a teacher eager to spread her knowledge. Just like old times.

Instead, she'd taken to reading the books on her own. Using them as a distraction from the awful things happening in the world.

A distraction from you.

You tried not to let it get to you too much, but it stung. Your heart clenched with pain, with ache that ran deep to your core. Like poison coursing through your veins, burning you up from the inside one little bit at a time. It was as though she'd grown bored of you. As if being holed up with you inside a tiny house had made her resent you. As if it made her realize living with you wasn't the fairy tale you thought of it as and she couldn't wait to get away from you.

You're overreacting, you told yourself. But, even as you kept repeating to yourself that this was just a temporary thing, that it was stress, a sliver of a doubt still nibbled at you. What if Rowena didn't want you anymore? What if she'd had enough?

You still wanted her, you reminded yourself. You missed her. You loved her. And you would do anything to get things back to the way they used to be.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, which earned you another glare. You ignored it, eyes darting to the yellowed pages of the book that must have been older than the two of you combined. Intricate illustrations adorned the paper; those of flowers, of herbs you didn't recognize. They were surrounded by words in a foreign language. Written in an elegant handwriting, the writing gave off a feeling of class, of beauty. Whoever the witch that had written it was, she had obviously been a lady.

"What's it say?" you asked, feigning nonchalance. Heart, all the while, beating wildly, begging for a response.

Rowena eyed you for a few moments before turning her attention back to the book. "It's potion recipes." Matter-of-fact. Straight to the point. No trace of the warmth that usually accompanied her words.

On the bright side, she responded. It was something. Not much, but a start nonetheless.

"What language is it?"

"Italian."

"The book looks pretty old. When was it written?"

"The 1500s."

"Is the witch who wrote it still alive?"

"No."

"It's really cool that you can understand it."

No response. Not even the usual smile at the compliment. As if you hadn't said a word.

Your heart sank, but, insistent to complete this mission you'd tasked yourself with, you sucked in a breath and pecked her on the cheek.

Rowena flinched as if burned and shot you a startled glance. You smiled innocently. Sighing, she went back to her book.

Another failed attempt. Was there anything you could do to get her back? To get her out of her glum state? To make her your girl again for, as of late, it seemed she was distant from you?

To your knowledge, you hadn't done anything wrong. There had been no arguments — not even the pretend, teasy ones the two of you sometimes got into. You hadn't broken anything hers, or messed up any spells. It was as if she'd just decided she wasn't in the mood for you, that you were too much for her to handle. So she ignored you.

As much as it hurt, you weren't going to let her get away with it. You couldn't. Not after everything the two of you had gone through. You'd survived Lucifer. You'd survived her flashbacks and nightmares. And you would survive this.

Desperate, tears pricking at your eyes as pain squeezed at your heart, dove razor-sharp daggers into it over and over like a merciless killer, you leaned down to Rowena's shoulder and pressed a kiss into it. It was a small kiss, soft as silk, a swift, brief brush of lips against skin. A promise of more, so much more — all she had to do was want it.

Rowena stiffened. You laid another kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing all the way up to her neck. Her skin was soft, incredibly tender; as expected, a small moan escaped her as soon as you reached her most sensitive place. She could be as mad as she wanted, as confused, as indifferent — the neck kiss always did her in.

Her greatest weakness, even in these difficult times.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" There was a hesitation in her voice, mixed in with the cold that coated her words.

"Having some fun," you said, then kissed her again. And again and again and again, and ran your tongue over a tiny spot just below her ear as if she were the most delicious meal, and then kissed it, and around it. A little game you couldn't get enough of.

"Why?"

Because she wasn't paying attention to you. Because you were lonely. Because she was grumpy. Because you both needed a little distraction from the horrors of the world, and what better way to get it than some intimate fun?

"Why not?" you countered. Dared her to defy you. To push you away as she had for days.

Your teeth grazed the sensitive skin, the milky white flushing red, soon to be a beautiful, rich purple. The kind of mark you hadn't left in what felt like ages. Rowena gasped at the sensation, satisfied despite pretending otherwise. Her vein throbbed underneath your mouth, heart racing, blood running hot.

You couldn't resist a smile. There we go. That was your girl! Goodness, you missed her!

The magic was short-lasted, though, as a moment later Rowena pulled away, looked you straight in the eyes, and, serious as a heart attack, said, "Have you gone bloody mental?"

You sighed. Inhaled. Exhaled. Did your best to remain calm because your thoughts were screaming and you wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum and then curl up and cry your eyes out.

"Maybe I just wanna spend some time with my girlfriend!"

She looked at you as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. "We're together all the time!"

You used to be. Not lately.

"We would be if you weren't ignoring me." If she could play dirty, so could you.

"That's ridiculous!" she argued. Defensive. Second-guessing, but she wouldn't admit it. She was never one to admit she was wrong.

You'd expected it, really. Had prepared yourself for the blow. That didn't make it hurt any less. Throwing your arms up, you got to your feet and started pacing. Restless, nerves short circuiting, heart pounding like a hammer against your ribcage. Relax, you told yourself. Just relax. You'd wanted this fight. You couldn't give up now.

You looked her in the eyes with all the intensity, all the sincerity you could manage. Made sure she knew you meant business. "You barely even look at me. All you do is scream at the TV and read your books." Her outbursts were fun at first, entertaining. Now, they were exhausting. There were only so many times you could laugh at the very same curse words, even if they were Scottish. "It's like you're sick of living with me."

A tear slid down your cheek; you wiped it with the back of your hand and sniffled. Willed the rest of the tears to stay back, to not betray you at a time like this. You hated arguing with Rowena. You were used to peace in your relationship, to hugs and kisses and love and laughter and everything happy and bright. Whenever you argued, it felt like a piece of you was being torn apart. As if, if you went too far, if you pushed too many buttons, she would decide she'd had enough and, just like back in her wicked days, she would turn her back and leave.

You knew it was silly. Arguments were part of a relationship; they were healthy, so long as they were nuanced. But a part of you couldn't let go of the notion that fights would be the end of everything you knew and loved. It terrified you to the bone, and with the fear came more tears, and before you could try to stop them again, you were crying.

"Darling, that's not—I could never get sick of being with you," Rowena said. "I don't know what you think is happening, but, I can assure you, I've no ill feelings toward you." She flashed a smile, one of those bright, honest ones. "I promise."

You swallowed a lump that had popped in your throat. Gulped in a large breath. "You're always in a bad mood. And you never pay attention to me." You realized you come across as a needy, whiny child, but it was the truth. You felt ignored. You were ignored. Your usually attentive girlfriend had suddenly turned you a cold shoulder. "You don't kiss me back anymore. Don't even get me started on sex. Even when you sleep, you turn your back on me."

She pondered on your words. Twisted and turned them in her head, thought them through. When she spoke, her words were laced with regret, "Y/N, you've got this all wrong." She stood up and reached for your hand, tiny fingers wrapping around yours. The kind of touch you were yearning for, that you were missing. "I suppose I have been a tad distant these days. Not because of you. You haven't done anything wrong."

You allowed yourself to breathe out with ease.

"It's this house. I'm sick of being locked inside all the time," she elaborated. "It's starting to feel like a prison. I miss our wee trips." She pouted. "I miss dinners in my favourite restaurant."

You chuckled.

Rowena smiled. "I miss our walks. Going out for groceries hardly counts as going out."

"I miss it, too," you admitted. "All of it." But, most of all… "I miss you."

"I'm… sorry." It was hard for her to say the words. Two years into her redemption, and she still struggled with apologizing. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I love you, you silly girl. I could never tire of you. Even when you interrupt my reading."

She accompanied that with a small glare, a feigned one.

You rolled your eyes. "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"You've got my full attention now." Her eyes fell to your lips. Trailed down the length of your body. She was so close; you could smell her skin, almost taste her lips. "What is it you would like to do with it?"

"I can think of a few things."

You kissed her, deep and hard. She reciprocated instantly, drawing you in, arms snaking around you to pull you right where she wanted you. She tasted of promise and love and everything sweet, everything you were missing. You melted into her as she took lead, her tongue exploring your mouth, tasting it, marking it. Making it clear that it was her territory, her ownership.

Goodness, you missed this!

Parting for breath, you kissed her again, then pushed her on the couch a tad rougher than necessary and straddled her. Your mouth was back on her neck, kissing the previously marked spot. Licking and biting and sucking, leaving a trail of blossoming bruises in your wake.

"That's it, darling," Rowena moaned in her thick accent, which only made you got at it harder.

Maybe the quarantine wouldn't be so bad after all.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange​

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Four

~sweeter smiles~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, jisung/minho

warning: mild language

words: 3.8k ish

summary: another week passes, and our boys still whipped? yeah. The boys get kicked out their apartment and go check out some busking, meeting up with some familiar faces.

a/n: Oof school kicked my ass and made it hard to post, anyway... here’s chapter 4 

Text: Minho/Jisung

ao3 link

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

After spending the majority of the last week curtains drawn, and grinding away on music in their apartment, it seemed that their manager had had enough of their vampiric like tendencies. She had effectively locked them  out of their apartment until they promised to spend the day away from their respective producing/writing stations. Although Sana was a new addition to the trio's life, she had already solidified herself as not just a capable manager but a generally sweet and caring soul.

She made fast friends with Chan, bonding over their similar experiences coming to Korea as foreigners. Changbin had met her when he started at JJP and was glad that she was chosen to manage their group. And so Sana, after maybe too many incidents in the dark tripping over a blanket-wrapped Jisung, would regularly end up checking on more than just how they were doing musically with her visits. Her concern and worry for them as her new friends bleed into their everyday interactions. Whether it was bringing them take out after they had forgotten to eat, waking up Jisung from the floor to go to bed, or just asking how their days were, she always made the boys feel cared for. After years of only relying on each other, they all found it surprising but comforting to have her around.

So as the boys had been lovingly forbidden from working by their manager, they found themselves walking down the popular music-filled streets for busking and tourists.

“Wait what time did you say he was performing?”

“Innie said after one so we should still make it before he starts his set.” Changbin was leading them through the crowds, which was probably not ideal as the inches Bin lacked he made up in speed. Making 2racha’s life slightly harder as they attempted to not lose the shorter boy in the more crowded areas of the walkway. Passing countless acts and performers displaying their talents, reminiscent of how the rap trio had started out when they were still just high school students.

“I didn't think your brother would still be busking after highschool.” Chan mused from the back of the pack.

“I mean he got scouted from busking, so I guess it all paid off in the end.” Changbin mentioned the fact casually, but the proud ‘older brother’ smile on his face revealed his actual excitement. The three were poorly navigating the busy streets to support Changbin’s younger brother who had just been signed with an entertainment company and was on his way to enter their trainee program.

“Nah I get it, there's a different kind of energy performing in this setting. Sometimes I really do be missing busking every weekend.” Jisung had always been the one to only do what made him feel alive, and his first time busking in front of a crowd had him addicted to the feeling. It had given him something to look forward to in high school. And even now, years later he still anticipated the high that the applause from a crowd gives him.

“Oh, we should buy Jeongin a meal to congratulate him. I imagine he'll be training day and night soon.”

By the time they had made it to the area where Jeongin was set up he was already performing a popular ballad for a small crowd. Emotion flowing through the youngest’s voice as it surrounded all that listened. It wasn't a surprise that his passionate voice had been sought after by companies. The boy’s voice, light and dynamic, pulling the attention of all that were within earshot. And by the time the last note was released the three boys clapped and cheered as much as they could without completely making a fool of themselves.

Although 3RACHA weren’t exactly well known personalities to most of the public, the boys had found themselves getting recognized more and more, especially after their last concert. Their following had definitely expanded and those in the area had begun recognizing the rappers on the rare occasions they left their loft.

But even with their masks and hats on to somewhat hide their identities, the young singer still smiled with recognition and slight embarrassment at boys enthusiastic cheers.

---

Minho thinks that overall his week was pretty unextraordinary. Not much had changed, still working his same job, still spending his mornings practicing for their crew’s upcoming performances. Nothing felt specifically special in the way he performed and worked on the routines for their busking performance that weekend. Just following the choreographies he needs to. Going through the motions. This week seemingly identical to the last.

Almost identical. Minho couldn’t overlook how the addition of Han Jisung had improved his daily mood. Even with their respective busy schedules, the banter they were able to exchange lifted the weight of monotony on Minho’s heart. Jisung loved to tell him jokes and stories, in addition to their casual flirty conversations. The lightness of their conversations and the smile that was always lingering on Minho’s face was evidence enough that his encounters with the other had become the highlight of his day.

Even during practice, his roommates had begun to find the older more energetic and enthusiastic. Although the choreo they had been practicing had been the same for the past month, Minho’s movements had become even more fluid and dynamic, as if he was walking on air.

To Minho, dancing always felt like what he was meant to do. He couldn’t imagine living a life standing still or sitting at a desk job. Dancing was as natural as breathing, so natural that he often forgets to tell people that he dances. To him it was just assumed. He was human; he breathed. He was human, so he danced. Obvious right? But with his natural association he had with dance, and his desire to contain the complicated history he had with his dreams, Minho was not one to share his passions easily.

The Saturday morning had begun with the three dancers packed in their bathroom, all attempting to get ready in the closet size space they called a bathroom. Getting ready for their performances in the crowded bathroom had become a dance within itself for the boys, as they position themselves in front of the mirror so each has enough space to carry out their routines. Trading makeup brushes and hair dryers and hairspray cans in a way that, according to Felix, could win them Olympic medals.

“Hyung, will you pass me the hair spray?”

Minho obliged, handing the can to cross-eyed Felix that had been attempting to tame his bangs for the last 15 minutes.

“Damn, do you think there’ll be company scouts out today?” Hyunjin mused while trying to not smudge his eyeliner from his spot on the toilet seat.

“It's always a possibility, there'll be a lot of acts out today, so there is probably going to be some floating around.” Minho knew there were always some scouts in the audiences on busking days, but maybe the years of seemingly no company interest had numbed him to that fact. If anything, he was hoping to pick up a few bucks from the audience, and give their crew some more exposure.

“I guess it is a weekend, the crowds are always bigger these days. Lixie did you send in your tape for Shipstar Ent. that you were working on?”

“Yeah, I’m going to wait for their response before working on the JJP one”

“Those are small companies Lix, you got a strategy you aren’t sharing with us??” Minho nudged his elbow in his ribs, eliciting a giggle from the younger.

“Nothing special hyung, I just thought smaller companies might have smaller audition pools, more chance of landing a spot.” Even though the freckled boy had come to Korea for university, he was hoping to extend his stay as long as he could by landing a career as a dancer.

“You’ve always been the better strategist out of us. Minho-hyung usually only sends in like one tape a year.”

“There’s only one program I actually want to join anyway. But lately money is money, and I may just need to find a gig to pay our water bill.” Minho's smile reaches his eyes, but a part of his heart drops at the mention of his consistent re-submitted audition tapes.

“Are you going to send another tape for the academy this year, hyung? You got to the second round last time.”

Hyunjin asked an innocent question really, but Minho can't help but feel the wave of disappointment all over again. The first round of auditions was always a taped routine sent in by all the applicants, the second was an in person performance. A performance that last year, despite what he thought was a perfect execution of his chosen routine, had been met with a ‘Thank you, but-’ letter a week later.

“It’s a tradition at this point, and who am I to break a tradition.” The sarcasm drips from the statement fueled by Minho's bitterness toward his broken dream. But as always, as if just on queue with Minho’s declining mood, a series of notifications from his phone pulls him out of his thoughts.

[Rich Boy Han Jisung] 11:47 am Hyung guess what SANA LOCKED US OUT And Now were gonna end up getting lost Changbin is leading us somewhere :< His navigation skills are horrible If you dont hear from me, I was led to an untimely death by Seo Changbin Dont cry too much at my funeral :((

Oh no I'll remember you fondly And all the dates we never got to go on

najsdkkgfnadds Hold up you actually want to go on a date …... I will survive for you

Wait then I can't live that grieving widow aesthetic how am i supposed to grieve my not dead not husband now

we'll work something out but I get to take u on that date first not-husband >:)

---

The members of 3RACHA had listened to the rest of Changbin’s brother’s set. The young boy’s audience had grown to include highschool girls fawning over the boys adorable features and melodic voice. As well as older and middle aged women and men that were drawn to the nostalgic tambour of his voice as Jeongin performed trot and other crowd pleasing ballads. His youthful glow and image contrasting the maturity of his sound. After applause and ending statements, much of the crowd had dispersed to other surrounding acts. 3RACHA focused on congratulating and helping the younger tear down.

“You did great as always Innie” Chan awarded him with a pat on the back. Jisung echoed the sentiment with his busy rambling about how emotional the last performance felt.

“Thanks hyungs, I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“Of course! We wouldn't miss it”

“Yeah, it absolutely has nothing to do with our manager locking us out of our apartment.” Jisung earned himself a punch in the shoulder with that one. Jeongin laughed just the same, and looked grateful to have some familiar faces in the crowd.

“Don’t mind the idiot, we’ll always be here for you. If anyone tries to mess with you in training just tell them your older brother will beat them up.”

“But Hyung, you're shorter than me.”

“Doesn’t mean I won't bust some kneecaps for my baby bro though,” said Changbin, brushing off the obvious jab at his height.

“Yeah! No one’s touching our baby bread.” Chan looped his arm over Jeongin's shoulders, hand going for the boy's cheeks only to be swatted away.

“3RACHA aka the Kneecap Destroyers,ROLL OUT!!!” Jisung struck a couple vague superhero poses while making a swinging motion that was probably meant to symbolize some sort of lower leg destruction.

“Jisung, were not the Transformers please.” Still the smile on Jeongin’s face was worth any of the embarrassment Jisung could’ve felt from his shenanigans. -- A cheer erupted nearby from a large crowd that seemed to have just gathered. Loud upbeat music filled the air and the confident melody of a popular song began. The four boys, overcome with mutual curiosity, made their way to the edge of the crowd. A dance crew populated the middle of the crowd. Confident charisma and perfectly timed movements flowed from each of the dancers, as they pulled off a complicated and synchronized routine. Full of hip thrusts and body rolls, the cheers from the crowd solidified how each of the dancers grasped the attention of on-lookers without warrant.

The whole audience was entranced by the crew of a dozen dancers taking over the street. All of the dancers dressed in variations of a black and white ‘uniform’ full of leather, silk and lace, pulling off a look that was elegant, sexy, and powerful. Dressed to accentuate their body movements and draw in the attention of bypassers.

It was mid-song when Jisung was surprised to spot the familiar brown hair and sharp eyes of his current favorite waiter of Menu 98. Minho being a dancer had never crossed his mind as a possibility, but now that he has seen the older dance, Jisung couldn’t imagine anything more natural. Minho seemed to dance purely with charisma. The goofy and cute side of Minho that he had occasionally witnessed over text, seemed to be non-existent as the man in front of him performed to the crowd with raw charm and confidence.

Minho caught Jisung’s blatant stare, and a flash of recognition and something else appeared on his face, before a smirk overcame his features as he sent a wink the younger’s way. The confidence of the older overwhelming Jisung’s system as usual. Sure, they had been ceaselessly flirting over text for the past week, but as soon as he had to witness Minho’s confidence in person, there was no screen to hide the fact that Jisung was a blushing mess. As the heat of embarrassment rose up his neck, he continued to watch as the dancers ended their routine in a formation that elicited a loud cheer from the audience.

“Wow these guys are really good”

“Have they performed before?”

“Did you see the guy in the middle his shirts practically see through”

“Damn do you think he’d give me his number if I asked”

The voices from the crowd surrounded Jisung but his eyes were locked on his newly discovered dancer, Minho.

“Hey Ji, see something you like?” Changbin’s teasing was left unanswered as he followed Jisung’s gaze.

“Hey hyung, do you know that guy?”

“Yeah, He kinda looks familiar.” Jisung guessed he was familiar. Considering that, even though Chan and Changbin hadn’t recognized him as their waiter, the dancer in front of them had been the subject of his attention for the past week or so. Seeing him in person was nothing short of breathtaking. Being a little dramatic, as he often is, Jisung found him almost speechless. His breath only continued to fail him as Minho made his way over to Jisung and their small group.

“Hey Sungie, long time no see.” a shameless smirk spread across his face. Minho seemed to know exactly how he affected the younger.

Before Jisung could think of a more eloquent greeting he found himself blurting out the first thought that had crossed his mind, “I didn’t know you were- that you did- the- uh dancing.”

Minho laughed freely at the wide eyed expression that Jisung wore. Soft and cute and full of the same awe as a kid seeing his favorite TV character I person for the first time. “Seems I forgot to mention that in our introductions, Not gonna lie I didn’t think you would see me dance already...”

An expression Jisung couldn’t quite read fell over Minho’s face, along with the red tint of embarrassment. “Nononono, don’t worry really. I never asked! But I mean you looke- i mean were amazing, at dancing. Really you’re seriously talented. I can't believe you’ve never mentioned it before.”

The red on Minho’s ears grew to his face. “Oh, I’m sure you say that to all your drunken accidents.” Smirk returns in an attempt by Minho to regain his smug attitude.

“You weren't an accident! I was completely sober at the bar when I told you to hit me up.”

“I’m sorry Jisung what?” Chan seemed to be tired of trying to deduce who exactly the other was.

“Oh right, this is Minho-Hyung, he was the waiter I TIPSY-ily gave my number to that one time. But we both completely forgot about it, and then by some string for fate bullshit I ran into him before last week’s gig and the rest is history!” Some degree of understanding flashes across the other two rappers' faces, while the youngest is just listening intently to Jisung’s entertaining shenanigans.

“Mhm, ‘Ran into’, definitely not saw-and-followed,” said Minho, getting more smug by the minute.

Taking the obvious opportunity to tease the youngest Changbin’s eyes held a mischievous glint. “Hold on a second, is this who you’ve been texting non-stop all week. No wonder you’ve been so happy.”

“Hyung!”

“Yeah, your usual chaotic gay energies have been replaced with giggly soft Jisung, and its honestly been worrying me, but I mean the ballad came out really good so can’t complain” Chan added. The smug faces of the older two, only grew as Jisung groaned loudly, flailing his arms to hopefully silence them. Minho’s grin just met his eyes as he chuckled.

“Glad to hear that I’m inspiring you Sungie. Also, It’s nice to finally meet you, Chan and Changbin-ssi I’m guessing?” Minho bows slightly to them as they all exchange pleasantries. Jeongin adds on, introducing himself as Changbin's brother. Minho seems to recognize him, and is about to praise his earlier performance when a yell erupts nearby.

“Minho-hyung!!! There you are, Lixie was looking for you. Looks like I beat him though.” Realizing he seemed to have interrupted something, Hyunjin bowed to the others shyly. Introducing himself to the others until his eyes laid on Jisung. “Wait, hyung! Isn’t he the cutie you’ve been talking to all week! Jisung-ah~ you remember me rightttt?”

Minho’s face deadpans at record speeds. “Yes Jinnie thank you. Shouldn't you be looking for Felix”

“Nope I’m right here.” Felix, seeming out of nowhere, emerges right behind his eldest roommate. “Hi everyone, I’m Felix.” Freckles out, smile bright, cute little wave, the classic Felix introduction that makes everyone fall for him. No one can resist the boy’s eye-smile-and-freckled-cheek combo.

“Felix!” Hyunjin wrapped himself around his roommate, pointed animatedly to introduce the others, even though he himself had just learned of their names seconds ago. “Hehe, and that’s Jisung! He’s the one who came into Sweet Lotus asking for Min-hyung’s number.”

“Sweet Lotus, huh?” Chan’s eyebrows rose at the name of the notorious bar, glacing at Jisung for an explanation.

“Hyung, what’s that?” Jeongin whispers quietly to his brother, only to be immediately answered by Hyunjin.

“Oh! It’s the host bar/club not too far from here. Nothing special, a normal bar really, just with prettier bartenders and some nice company if you can afford it.” Hyunjin threw a wink at the youngest, earning a glare from his brother.

“Jinnie’s a bartender, can you tell,” Felix giggles along with the others' antics.

"Hehehe. I’m sure you all would love it.” Hyunjin directed his attention to Jisung, “Hey, you should bring your friends next time Jisung-ah. I'd love to be able to have served all the members of 3RACHA. Ya know when you’re famous, I’ll have a story to tell the tourists.” Leaning in to ‘whisper’, “If you do, I'll let you know when Minho-hyung is working~” Jisung went full red at that comment. Hyunjin smirked so hard it looked like it would hurt.

“Jin, you have no shame.” Minho, after glaring at his roommate, turned toward Jisung and the other members of 3RACHA. “I’d apologize that this is how you had to be introduced to my roommates, but they’re like this all the time. Anyway, as he was saying, you guys are always welcomed to the bar, and it's really not as promiscuous as Hyunjin over here is insinuating. He enjoys being a tad over-dramatic.” His eye roll obvious.

Chan laughs, “No worries, Minho-ssi we’re honored by the invitation, truly. And It's nice to finally meet you properly-"

"Or at all. If we hadn't run into you, we probably would never be introduced. You've been Jisung's best kept secret. He's always hiding away his phone whenever we ask him what he's doing. All we hear is him giggling in his little corner and- "

"Okay!! Would you look at the TIME. It appears that 'Embarrass Jisung Time' has officially passed, and we should be on our way." About ready to turn away and hide his face further into his hoodie, Jisung's eyes catch Minho’s. He finds it is hard for him to believe the face on the other side of their conversations could actually be more beautiful than he remembered. Jisung knew that if they had been talking face to face and not over text, he would've had a pretty hard time forming sentences with the way Minho's soft but intense gaze was directed at him.

“Well it was good to see you again, even if it wasn’t planned.” A full blinding smile interrupts the gaze Minho held with Jisung.

“Yeah, likewise. It was nice getting to meet your roommates too.”The sweet gaze between the two is anything but subtle, but if any of their respective friends noticed the shift in atmosphere, it went unacknowledged.

“I’ll text you later okay?”

“Ye-yeah, okay”

They exchange ‘goodbyes’ and Minho attempts to wrangle his roommates away from the others, before they find more ways to embarrass him.

Out of earshot, “Holy shit, Minho-hyung we just met 3RACHA. I’m losing my mind. I hope they think we’re cool. Wait did they see our performance then? Oh my god. They definitely saw our performance.” An embarrassed look flashed across his face.

“Lix chill, your performance was perfect as always. Just try and not embarrass me so much next time”

“Aw hyungie~ did we embarrass you in front of your crush.”

“Hold up NEXT TIME?” ---

“...Well how about we’ll pretend that your heart eyes weren’t painfully obvious, and you pay for chicken?” Jeongin purposes cheekily.

“...mhm deal.” Clearly still in some state of shock still, Chan starts to lead Jisung and the rest of the group toward the nearest restaurant.

“Bro, you're so gone already.” Changbin shakes his head but holds a fond smile for the other. It had been awhile since their youngest trio member had smiled so much, and in turn had been equally inspired. Both of his hyungs had noticed the uptick of Jisung’s productivity, and, if anything, were glad to finally have met the reason for his smile.

-----

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[onyxiana-is-obsessed]

Language Barrier | Denki Kaminari x Foreign!Reader P2

AN: Hiya! This was requested by @nathalie707 I hope you like it, love! Pronouns used: she/her Length: 971

Part 1

Summary: You’ve been in class 1A for a few months now and your crush on Denki’s grown immensely. So, you decide to learn Japanese to ask him out, turns out, he’s learning English for you.

(n/l) - native language or another language you’d wanna speak

Your name: (y/f/n) Quirk: You’re still the Avatar Age: (14/15)

It had been a few months since (f/n) had to UA and so far, everything was going well. Aside from both the USJ and training camp attacks. Both (f/n) and Kaminari had gotten much closer, which prompted her to try to learn Japanese a bit faster than planned. Ryu was there the entire step of the way, teaching her how to understand but also how to write it. That was much more difficult, since she was (14/15) instead of a child, when she learned English and (n/l). She tried her best, putting herself to the test by writing her crush a letter.

The idea was she’d write him a letter telling him everything she liked about him and then at the end, she’d ask him out. Now, she’d taken everything she learned from Ryu and decided to do this herself, against her better judgment. She wanted to prove to both herself and Kaminari that she could overcome this little barrier that they had between them. However, (f/n) kept this between herself and Ryu. She wanted this all to be a surprise to Kaminari and her other friends.

Of course, (f/n) still used her translator app but she noted that she was able to understand her friends more. The app only confirmed what she believed they were staying, which soon became hard to keep a secret.

However, one thing that (f/n)- or anyone for that matter- didn’t know was that Kaminari had been doing the same thing. He was trying to learn English so he could impress (f/n).. Boy was it difficult, but it was worth it. He had purchased Rosetta Stone (haven’t heard about this thing in years). Kaminari had also been working with Midoriya- and Bakugou- to better his grades too. (f/n) was smart, talented, beautiful, and her quirk was amazing. He knew that if he wanted to be remotely anywhere near her league, he had to step up his game. So, this was his attempt. All of his recent assignments had been turned in on time and all of the recent tests he’d scored at least a 90, which he was very proud of.

He often stayed up late at night either finishing up homework or practicing his English. As he was writing away in his notebook, he got a text from Midoriya who was asking about their training session tomorrow. Kaminari quickly responded with a yes and returned to his work.

“Damn… (f/n). I really hope this impresses you…” He mumbled as he continued writing.

**

“Hey, Ryu. Is this right?” (f/n) asked, turning the piece of paper towards her translator. His eyes scanned it before he pointed at a sentence.

“This isn’t how they say it, here…” Ryu took the pen from (f/n) and marked it on the paper she had written. “This is better. It’s less formal, like slang. Sounds better.”

“Oh, thank you.” With that, she returned to her work. She knew that even though she was just learning Japanese and that Kaminari wouldn’t judge, she still wanted it to be perfect. She wanted the letter to take his breath away, make his heart beat extremely fast, make him blush, and not embarrass her.

(f/n) frowned as she leaned against her chair, her eyes glancing at her clock. It was almost 3 am and she was up decorating the little letter she’d written for Kaminari. This upcoming Sunday, she was going to do it! She was going to give him her letter, then ask him out in Japanese!

***

That was the plan. Then she saw his goofy but beautiful, face. All she did was see him and now her head was a mess, the butterflies in her stomach were in a panic, and she felt like she’d ran a mile.

“Hey, (l/n)!”  Kaminari greeted her, making her shake her head and hold the letter out towards him. His eyes widened, but he took it from her, mumbling something in Japanese she couldn’t catch.

Denki Kaminari,

You are the sweetest, loving, caring, and most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re always there for me, you’ve been taking care of me ever since I got here, you’ve always looked out for me, and you’ve always been by my side. Your smiles and jokes brighten my day, your laughter makes me smile, and your heart made me fall in love.

Will you be my boyfriend?

Kaminari’s golden eyes widened and shot up to (f/n), who looked away shyly. Taking a deep breath and hoping she wouldn’t mess up, she asked him again, but this time in Japanese.

“Will you be my boyfriend, Denki?” Red spread to his cheeks and that bright dizzying smile took over his face. So he responded, in English.

“I would love to, (f/n).”

“Wait, what?! You know English?!” Her hands reached out to take his, making his blush darken, but he gave them a gentle squeeze.

“A l-little. But wait! When did you learn Japanese?!” She blushed, smiling a little as she responded in his language.

“I started to learn f-for you.” He took her in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head, responding in English.

“I learned for you too. When I get better, we can have secret conversations!” He smiled.

“Secret?” She winked. “You mean flirt without your friends knowing?”

“Oh, I’ll shamelessly flirt in front of everyone with you.” They laughed, staring into each other’s eyes before they both leaned in. Their lips pressed together, making them breathe out and melt into each other’s warmth. Kaminari’s lips were soft and warm and they moved slowly against (f/n)’s. Her hands gently landed on his shoulders and his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. After a few seconds, they pulled apart and he gazed into her eyes. “You’re mine now, right?”

“All yours.”

“Then I’m all yours, too.”

They were in love and some little language barrier wasn’t nearly strong enough to keep them apart. They’d overcome it all.

[juliabohemian]

backhanded compliments & the art of commenting on other people’s creative content without being a complete twat waffle

WARNING: This is a long post.

I'm a word person. That's probably why, when I do find myself becoming irritated by someone else's unsolicited critique, it is almost always due to their choice of words. Words are important and very powerful. Words have different meaning to different people. Which is why we need to take care when choosing them.

Now, whenever possible, I will click on the profile of the person who left the unsolicited critique and try to get a feel for what type of person they are. Just so I can better understand why they might have left the comment in question. If it is clear they are not a native English speaker, I stop right there. Learning a foreign language is hard. English is one of the most ridiculous languages on the planet. So, mastering its nuances is a challenge for someone who may not have grown up using it. I’m sure I have offended at least one person with my Spanish, at some point. I’m working on it.

BACKHANDED COMPLIMENTS

When I say choice of words, I am implying almost exclusively to something known as a backhanded compliment. A backhanded compliment is a statement that seems, on the surface, to be positive, but is actually an insult. If you are not familiar with the backhanded compliment, I direct you to the mom from American Beauty who says to her teenage daughter "Honey, I'm so proud of you. I watched you very closely, and you didn't screw up once!"

There are a lot of reasons why people make such comments. It would be reductive to suggest they are all suffering from some form of insecurity, although many of them probably are. Some may genuinely believe that they are being helpful. Others may be jealous of the attention another person is receiving and want to either sabotage them or find a way to get in on the action. 

However, it is most likely that the type of person to give a backhanded compliment is either very young, very sheltered or very privileged. And thus, they may not realize that their opinion about something may not carry the same weight on the internet as it does in other venues. Or they may not realize that the world is filled with people who are more informed and more experienced than they are. They mistake their opinion for objective analysis and therefore, offer it freely and without hesitation.

Now, I would like to state that if you see something and you REALLY think it is problematic, you should absolutely offer your critique. Note: if you dislike or disagree with something, that does not make it problematic. Anything that promotes the maltreatment or marginalization of any living thing is problematic. Even so, you should stop and ask yourself whether your critique will accomplish anything or if it would be more worthwhile to simply report the post in question and move on.

That being said, here is MY analysis of some of the backhanded compliments I have received over the years (amalgamated for brevity), and a guide to leaving more constructive/supportive comments for the content creators in your life.

ARTWORK (including photography)

“Definitely not my style, but beautiful.” Do we need to know that it's not your style? If you think it's beautiful, just say that.

“This is so great, but it would have been better if you had used yellow instead of red!” Color choice is a creative choice and its value cannot be objectively measured. Just say it’s great and move on.

“Wow, this is way better than your old stuff.” Do I need to explain why this is bad? I hope not.

“Wow, you're really improving.” Slightly better than the previous one, but still bad. This is a really good example of something that might even feel like a compliment, but actually isn't. Saying that someone is improving is basically saying that it needed to improve. 

Unless you are speaking to your own student or a child, or a really close friend or family member who has openly shared with you their desire to improve as an artist, this is completely unnecessary.

It's important to remember that not everyone is doing things with the same objectives as you. Not every artist or photographer is aiming for technical mastery. If an artist creates something that is very personal and feels pleased with it, the last thing they want is for someone else to come along and tell them what’s “wrong” with it.

Really ANY comment that suggests that the piece of artwork in question would be improved if it were altered in some way is a no no. Unless you are an art teacher or someone has specifically asked for you to give them this information, or you are paying someone to make something especially for you.

FANFICTION (or really writing in general)

“Oh man...I was so excited when I saw your story summary, until I saw the pairing.” Do not comment on a story just to tell the author that you don't like their pairing. Ever. If you accidentally click on a story without seeing the pairing and you are disappointed, your feelings are valid. But there’s no need to let the author know.

"This was good but I don't think (character) would say (quoted dialogue)." Then, you should go and write a story with that character, but where they say different things.

"I noticed you used a semi-colon in the third paragraph. Semicolons are actually supposed to...." Critique grammar, punctuation, spelling and writing mechanics ONLY if you are the author's editor, the author's teacher, or if the author requested it. Period.

If you are commenting to point out what you believe to be a factual error, stop and ask yourself...is this really an error? Is the error intentional? Does the error represent the views of the author or the views of a specific character in a fictional work? Does this story have a reliable narrator? If not, might that narrator be misinformed or biased? And the most important question to ask yourself before correcting an author...do I actually know what the fuck I'm talking about?

Once, in a story, I referenced Copernicus and mentioned that he was imprisoned by the Catholic church. Which we know that he was. Someone commented to leave a long, bullet pointed explanation for how this is a common misconception and that the Catholic Church never mistreated Copernicus, along with many links to articles and videos as evidence. Guess who made all the articles and videos? The Catholic Church. SKIP!

When commenting on a fictional work, consider letting the author know how the story is making you feel. Speculate about what you think might happen next. Express excitement and anticipation. Ask a question for clarification about what you just read. And you can never go wrong by simply thanking the author for taking the time to provide you with free entertainment.

MEMES & JOKES

I love to make people laugh. I have been making people laugh since I learned to talk. This was actually bourne out of an inability to interpret facial expressions. I couldn't tell when people were angry or annoyed. But when they were laughing, I knew exactly how they felt.

That being said, people on the internet LOVE to tell me when something isn't funny. The only problem with this is that humor is very subjective and often very esoteric. I have made memes that I knew were esoteric and knew that not everyone would understand them. I have memes just for birdwatchers. Hell, I have made memes just for a dozen people who participated in a specific academic discussion. But it amazes me how people who don't get a joke are often most compelled to comment and let me know that it isn't funny. How can you know if you don't understand it? Is it so hard to imagine that things exist for which you are not the intended audience?

It's perfectly okay to comment and say you don't understand, and ask for an explanation. But if you look at something and think "I don't understand this, therefore it lacks value" you may have some growing up to do.

Before reblogging someone else's joke to add to the joke, stop and ask yourself whether your intention is to correct or improve upon the joke, or if you are attempting to laugh along WITH the OP.

We've all done this, I'm sure. I know I have. But it really inconsiderate to hijack someone's meme, meta or artwork with a completely unrelated discussion. I can't tell you how annoying it is to post something and check my inbox days later, only to find pages of notifications of people reblogging my shit over and over as part of some completely unrelated discussion.

Once again, if you're commenting to point out a factual error, ask yourself whether the error was intentional. I recently made a meme about the Star Trek films in which Data uses contractions. All of his dialogue is ridiculously out of character, in fact. Which is kind of part of the joke. But someone felt the need to reblog AND comment to let me know that Data wouldn't say that because he doesn't use contractions. Which I already know. Because, well, I’ve been a ST:TNG fan since the day it first aired on TV. I don't even know what to do with a comment that, to be honest. I kind of feel sorry for the other person for not grasping the joke.

So, how DO you compliment someone whose work you enjoy? Imagine yourself speaking to them in person. Imagine that they are emotionally invested in whatever they have created. Consider your objective. Are you expressing appreciation? Or is there something else going on.

And avoid qualifiers. 

When a compliment includes words like "if" or "but" then it's probably not a compliment. You would be so pretty IF you lost some weight is not a compliment.

Choose words that are unlikely to be misinterpreted. 

If someone's art or writing IS improving and you really want them to know, a good way to do that is to use the word evolving. Wow, I really like the way your art is evolving. This works because it implies that the art is changing over time, as the individual grows as a person.

I know what some of you might be thinking...ugh...it's like you can't say ANYTHING anymore! Aww...boo hoo, fam. As a person on the spectrum, I’ve spent my entire life dancing around other people’s feelings, navigating neurotypical subtext and struggling to say things without offending anyone. This is a cake walk compared to that. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if actually thinking about how other people feel BEFORE you share your opinion would require a great deal of effort on your part, it's possible that you're just an asshole.

TL;DR

Creators of original content are actual human beings with feelings. Don’t offer them unsolicited advice or criticism. Think before you comment.