#no idea if you can figure out who everyone is without their hair color but I will not be clarifying it

[a-loose-collection-of-ants]

I'm finally free from exams so uhhhhhhhhhhhh here's another sketch dump

We have fun here

[introcoryo]

— au where you’re reaped as sejanus plinth’s tribute from district 2, and he breaks into the arena to get his final goodbyes in.

coriolanus can see the brunette’s jaw tighten in his peripheral vision when highbottom announces that he’ll be mentoring one of the district 2 tributes. that tightness is followed by a deep, deep scowl when the reapings are aired, and your sweet, lamb-like face is shown on the now, sejanus notices, glaring screen. he has half a mind to storm out, but instead swallows thickly to fool his brain into thinking he’s calm and collected.

he remembers you, as if a remnant from a previous life. sejanus knows this is a shameful way of thinking. he’s no capitolite. they can throw as much money as they want at him, keep his stomach full and plump of steak and apple pie, give him the so called luxury of attending the academy, but he knows his name will metaphorically never leave that reaping bowl. for each year the hunger games have commenced, three names were picked from district 2. a boy’s, a girl’s, and sejanus’s. he is in that arena with them, although not physically. and that is what hurts him most. his name, although not verbally chosen and spoken into a microphone, is amongst that litter, and yet he has the privilege, like every capitolite, of leaving the arena every year when the victor is announced, when his fellow district 2 tributes do not have that option.

upon first greeting you at the capitol zoo, a stinging pang shoots through his throat. he has absolutely no idea how he’ll be able to mentor you without completely destroying himself in the process. it’s eating him up inside; this hope that the academy has indirectly forced you to place in him. how that hope, crushed, would leave as you, god forbid, would have to take your final breaths in that arena, with nothing to attach to that despair but sejanus’s face.

you’re timid at first. you too, remembered this familiar face. the big brown eyes, never dull of emotion. long, fluttering eyelashes. he’s much taller now, with curly hair that looks like raw hazelnut under the sun. with the way he’s looking at you, you figured he did not outgrow his tenderness. it was no look of pity, though, but a look of understanding. of sharing your fear, instead of accepting your fate. that made you feel a comfort you haven’t felt since standing in your district’s square.

after a few minutes of silence, of examining each other wordlessly, communicating with shared gazes, sejanus decides to speak up first, albeit everyone knowing it is his heart that speaks for him.

“i am so, so sorry for—”

he begins, but you stop him. there wasn’t a point to this, you think. unless he was the one who picked out your name specifically, why would he even feel the need to apologize? that certainly won’t change anything.

“it’s fine. it’s not your fault. i know, big elephant in the room, i’m behind bars at a zoo. the odds just weren’t in my favor. i’m not sure they will decide they like me later, either.”

sejanus clenches a hand around one of the steel bars at your pessimism, but how can he blame you? he has no hope himself, how could he even possibly think you would? he wishes he could effortlessly bend the barrier separating you two with his palms, grabbing you by the hand and running off somewhere else. somewhere safe. somewhere hopeful. he knows he can’t, and that leaves a shake in his voice as he chooses his next words delicately.

“i just… if there’s any way i could help you, guarantee that you would… walk out of there unharmed…”

“well, i saw the district 12 girl with her supposed mentor in here. inside the zoo. you’re mine, i assume? do what a mentor has to do. mentor me out… and some food won’t hurt, either.”

at the mention of that, sejanus’s face slightly lights up, and he reaches into his scarlet colored blazer pocket, taking out a wrapped napkin and handing it to you. you reach through the bars to take this mysterious item from him, fingers lingering just a bit, and unwrap it to find a sandwich, diagonally cut. you smile wistfully at the simple meal before you, this being the very first act of kindness you’ve been on the receiving end of since coming to the capitol. so much for hosting etiquette.

“thank you, sejanus, really… here,” you say in an unanticipated small voice, holding out one of the pieces.

the brunette freezes. you’re still kind. all of this, and you’re still kind. perhaps that’s all you’ll ever be. perhaps that’s what will be what dooms you in that arena. you will try to speak heart to heart, not sword to sword. he loathes that he’s thinking this way. he absolutely despises that he knows you will not be able to walk away from this without staining your hands red, but what has made a home in his chest is the miserable feeling of not knowing whether you’ll be able to do that. he’s district. he will forever be district, a vow he made at birth. but here he is, standing in front of you, free. here he is, handing you food as though you truly belonged in that zoo. he is everything you wished you could be in that moment, and yet you still decide to share your meal with him, despite the rumbling coming from your stomach. he wants to take it. wants to act like this is a normal picnic that you two are having together, but he knows you need that full sandwich. he knows you should take all you can get.

and so he declines politely. you begin to talk about the changes in district 2 since he’s left, and how life continued, yet everyone was stuck. sejanus emphasizes. he listens. but the dread has not left his system. he starts to think about how he’ll see you in another life if this one wasn’t enough. there’s so much time on the other side, and here it all feels like a constant countdown. never knowing if your time will be cut short. he mentally chastises himself; he needs to be optimistic. he needs to be here for you, now. he needs to think about the life you’ll have when he gets you out, not if. soon enough, you’ll believe it too.

to say that sejanus was a complete wreck watching you enter that arena would be an understatement. the cameras capture your soft features so well that you look displaced. lost. you shouldn’t be there, he thinks. no one should be there. the tears that built up in a split second blur his vision, and when the bell rings, he is there, running as a district 2 tribute.

sejanus watches as you take his advice, as you run and hide immediately, and he is kept at bay through at least that. he can’t lose it now. not when you’ve placed your entire life bare in his hands.

but sejanus is weak, too. he feels too much too often. his thoughts are frantic, and he finds himself in that arena the following night. the thumping in his chest intensifies as the voice at the entrance pleads him to enjoy the show, and he scoffs at that. he checked the cameras before coming, so he knows exactly where you are, and he’s so overwhelmed with the thought of seeing you that it doesn’t register that he has now, momentarily, taken the path he very well could’ve lived if he had not moved to the capitol. sejanus plinth, district 2 tribute.

light footed, he makes his way across the arena, and up the stands. he saw you come out of hiding when it was safe out, when most of the tributes were either asleep or in the tunnels, gathering a weapon or two from the cornucopia then settling on high ground. he figures you were startled once you heard the automatic greeting that played when he walked in, so he whispers your name.

he whispers it again. so delicately. laced with so much sweetness, it feels wrong to say it here.

and then a third time. the syllables now come out desperate. overwrought. he can’t leave without seeing you. touching you. it will break him.

“sejanus?” his ears perk up, and he looks around, frenzied, trying to distinguish the direction your voice came from. you peek out from one of the stands, and when you find those big, brown eyes looking back at you, you pick yourself up entirely and run to hold the man before you. the man who rushed into the possibility of death head on just to wrap his arms around you. he’ll face it all, just for that. oh how he wished you knew how badly he wanted to swap your places.

“you’re… but how? why? it’s dangerous here—” sejanus wastes no time, cupping your cheeks and diving in to kiss you. his hands are holding on to you for dear life, as if his knees will give out without the support. his eyebrows are knit together, focused on the feel of your lips on his. they’re dry, chapped, and cracked, but he doesn’t care. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip to give you some relief, making a mental note to send you some water as soon as he leaves.

he kisses you until it hurts him. until his lips are swollen and red. until the way you’re tightening your hands on his broad shoulders feels as though it’ll leave bruises. when you break the kiss to breathe, he tries to take you all in. to memorize everything. he desperately needs a pen and paper right this moment so he could draw you as accurately as he can, lest his memory fails him later.

the automatic voice sounds again, and only you turn your attention to the entrance. slowly comes coriolanus snow, the district 12 girl’s mentor, and his eyes scan the arena before they land on yours. you nudge sejanus lightly to direct his gaze to his friend, but he wants more. he can’t leave now. he can’t leave you. not like this.

“it’s okay, sejanus. i’ll be okay. help from the outside, and we’ll see each other again in no time.” you whisper, a tiny bit unconvincingly, eyes glossy. “just take care of yourself, okay?”

sejanus’s lips quiver, and he too whispers. you don’t believe it’s because of the other tributes, but because if he were to speak normally, only a sob would come out.

“you are myself. please take care of me.” you glance down and nod at that, tasting the saltwater that came rushing down your cheek. he wipes the trail that settled along your face, and begrudgingly makes his way to the blond.

sejanus is motivated by the thought, the need, to get you out of there. no matter the methods he uses. no matter the consequences he faces. he has the resources to buy you more time, and he finds himself not above exploiting them.

[k-koriikorner]

A day's never truly over -Snippet

Author's Note: I was inspired by @deadghosy's Dogday reader oneshots. Reader is gender neutral, has Dogday's appearance but no alluding to eye color, hair color, body type or height to help the reader immerse themselves into the story as much as possible. Reader is a Dominion! Angel, who overhears Charlie's conversation with Adam about the hotel. Adam panics about reader telling everyone about the exterminations so they throw you out of heaven. You aren't a fallen angel because you weren't banished to hell but you currently have no way to get back to heaven.

Warnings: Gender Neutral Reader, Angel!Reader, Swearing

Word Count: 1,744

You are a dominion angel, essentially the mediator for the highest ranking angels to carry out the plans to the lower ranks. Your class of angels are considered heavenly governors, attempting to strike a balance between matter and spirit, good and bad. You receive orders from seraphim and cherubim, then dish out duties to the "worker bee" angels of the lower orders. Your main purpose is to make sure that the cosmos remains in order by sending down power to heads of government and other authority figures.

You were eavesdropping on Adam, Lute, and Charlie’s conversations but you were originally in the office to deliver some papers to Adam. You overheard the conversations and were trying to be quiet but you accidentally stumbled into the room during Adam’s song. You face planted into the floor, a small arf escaping you. The music stopped abruptly as Adam stopped playing his instrument, and all eyes turned to you as you slowly got off the floor, papers scattered and brushed yourself off. You locked eyes with Adam, a relatively sad expression on your face.

“Are-are you really supporting genocide? I-i actually think her idea could save people’s lives, why-why does anyone have to get hurt?” Your ears drooped slightly in sadness at the thought of all the lost souls. Adam and Lute look at you like you’ve caught them red handed and before you can speak again Adam begins singing about moving up the extermination to six months, and grabs you and Charlie’s arm before throwing you both out of the office.

“Wait-!” Charlie tries to move back towards the door, at least to ask for a second change but she stumbles and she holds her leg in pain. You stay in your place, where you landed, a horrified expression on your face as you take in everything that just transpired.

You slowly rise to your feet, and take small caution steps towards the door. You raise your right paw, orange fur and paw pads connecting with the door. Charlie looks up at you, partially forgetting you were beside her, but curious as to what you were doing. You summoned a small amount of your angelic power and noticed that a divine seal was placed back on the door so there was no way for you to get back in, not without the castor’s permission.

Your ears flattened again your head, as you held your head down in shame. Your shoulders shake in anger as your wings flair up and your ears pin back. You look down at Charlie with a determined look on your face, "We have to prove them all wrong."

----

As you and Charlie made your way to hell, you had the chance to properly introduce yourself. She talked to you and explained her plans to rehabilitate people through her hotel. Since you were an angel, and a higher ranking one at that, she believed that they'd have a much higher chance of success with you on their side.

“I had no idea they were doing this, regardless of whether or not these people ended up here because of their actions…every soul is valuable and should be cherished.” You frown, your ears drooping for umpteenth time today. “That’s what I tried to explain to Adam, if we could save even a few souls down here…shouldn’t we try?” Charlie turns to you, a sorrowful yet determined expression on face.

“No one in history has even succeeded once they’ve given up, if we can show them that your plan could save even one soul. They’d have no choice but to back you up!” You jump in the air, your wings fluttering slightly. You enjoyed helping people, that was your whole purpose and you wouldn’t make it any different being down here. You fully believed in Charlie’s cause and wanted to see it succeed in helping people more than anything.

“That’s the spirit!..Hey, I-i’m really sorry that you got kicked out of heaven, but I’m really happy you agreed to help me.” The tone between you both becomes somber, as you take the time to really understand your situation. You place a paw on Charlie’s shoulder, a happy smile on your face.

“It may not have been under the…best circumstances, but I’m happy that I have the opportunity to help you in your quest to help more people.” Charlie looks at you with teary eyes and she pats your hand which still rests on her shoulder. You both made it to the hotel, a hopeful smile on your face as you decided to try and stay positive.

The white haired woman gasped at the sight of you. Two pairs of cloud white wings, and the white robe with golden accents, no one could deny that you were unmistakably an angel. "Charlie...they listened, I'm so proud of you!" The woman pulled Charlie into a hug, not paying attention to the nervous expression on her face.

"Yeah, um this is [Name], they're a Dominion Angel who's agreed to help with our cause!" Charlie turned to face you, a wonky smile on her face. While it wasn't an absolute lie, you were glad she hadn't flat out said that you were unofficially kicked out of heaven. "It's nice you meet you, my name's Vaggie. Oh come here, we have something exciting to show you!" Vaggie greets you briefly before pulling Charlie further into the building, with you in tow.

The group of people sitting in front of the television turns to look at you all entering the living room, and you couldn't pretend to not see the baffled expressions on some of their faces."Holy shit, she really did it!" Angel Dust comments, not fully believing that an Angel was standing before him, and a non-exorcist one at that.

"Well would you look at that," Husk comments, a barely noticeable smirk on his face. Charlie and Vaggie stood beside you as you greeted everyone, "It's so nice to meet you, I hope I can work hard and help you all make it to heaven!" Charlie smiles at you in appreciation before she and Vaggie pull you towards the couch to watch their commercial. "Alastor pulled some strings and it's about to air."

"I pulled a few limbs too, hahaha!" Alastor interjects, a proud smile on his usual smiling face. Charlie looks at Vaggie, a surprised look on her face. "Wait, the commercial? You all made a new one?" You both look down at Angel Dust, who's sitting on the floor beside your legs, a confident expression on his face as he boasts."Yeah, one of my better performances if I do say so myself." Charlie beams brightly as she's nearly brought to tears by the knowledge that everyone had put in the work to make a new and improved version of their ad.

"That's... that's amazing." Angel raises an arm towards her face, prompting silencing her, albeit slightly rude in your opinion. "Sshh, it's starting." You turn your attention to the television in front of you all, as you see everyone in nicer clothes and standing at the entrance of the hotel.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel-" Vaggie on the television is abruptly cut off as the tv turns to the news. Everyone in the room except to Alastor and Nifty groan and complain, Vaggie and Angel in their respective languages. A frown pulls at your face, and your ears droop at the sight of the channel being changed before the commercial even started.

A spider demon with a blond bob cut, and another demon with a face mask on, seemingly news anchors show up on the screen. The names 'Katie Killjoy' and 'Tom Trench' under the respective persons as the woman begins to speak. "Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever before. Do you know what that means,Tom?" Although the woman is smiling, you can sense the sarcasm in her voice and the seething rage in this woman's soul.

You frown lightly, hoping that she's one of the people you can help be redeemed. "No, what does that mean, Katie?" He asks, shaking his head mockingly. Katie places her hands onto the desk and leans closer to the camera, her left eye twitching in irritation. "It means we're all royally fucked!" The sounds of screams fill the rooms from the tv, making you shrink into the sofa, as the countdown goes from 358 to 176. Angel seems to be the only one able to speak as everyone else is either stunned into silence or unbothered, "Wait, what? Why?!" Angel scoffs and raises his hand in the air, clearly exasperated.

[Cuts to Adam and Lute]

“And what do we do about the [Name] situation?” Lute turns towards her boss, after their discussion about the dead exorcist. Although she was somewhat disapproving about sending you down to Hell, she knew that they couldn’t risk you telling anyone else about the Exterminations. Plus she knew it was either that or killing you, and you both had a relatively cordial relationship.

“Who the hell is that?” Adam asks, promptly not paying attention to the conversation anymore, too busy scrolling on his phone.

“[Name] sir, the Dominion Angel who came in on the meeting earlier? Who we threw down to hell to prevent the secret getting out.” Lute keeps a level voice, sometimes she just couldn’t with her boss. Adam’s face flashes in realization as she remembers tanking your arm and throwing you out the office with Charmander or whoever that girl was.

“Ohh that bitch…tell anyone who asks that she’s gone on a spiritual retreat to Neptune, it’s what that little asshole gets for eavesdropping. Oh, and get Josiah to replace her, he may be a cuck bitch but he’s the closest we’ll get to [Name]’s standards.”

[bellarkeselection]

Omg I have an idea Jaime x reader. Reader is a servant and Jamie is I love with her and they are together secretly but everyone knows because they have 2 children and cersie hates reader because she took Jamie from her and Jamie defends reader every chance he gets. Plus if the children are older maybe Joffrey has a crush on there daughter idk it just poped into my head.❤️❤️❤️

You’re Better Than Any Proper Lady

Quickly walking through the halls of the Red Keep I finally made it back to my chambers at the other end of the castle shutting the door quickly. Leaning my back against the door I quickly heard two sets of feet running directly at me giggling like crazy. “Mommy!” Two sets of arms embraced me in a warm hug.

“Ohhh hi babies. You’re daddy is coming shortly. I should have the rest of the night off for now.” Breaking the hug I put a hand on each of my children’s shoulders. The kids weren’t twins but they almost looked like they were in my opinion.

My daughter Laina had her father’s bright blonde hair that was in a braid falling down her back and my eye color. Whereas my son Alex had my hair color but it was almost as bright as her father’s. Yet he had his father’s eye color. Someone knocked three times on the door where I turned my head around getting to my feet. Opening the door the figure that had golden hair moves past me the second I locked the door behind the knight. "Cersei wants to see the both of us later tonight. I tried to tell her it wasn't necessary but she wouldn't take no for an answer...I've missed you."

“I’ve missed you too. What do you think she wants to talk with both of us about. I mean I thought we were doing a good job of keeping our relationship and the kids a secret. So that you don’t get in trouble with King Robert.” I told Jaime when he wrapped his arms around me in a hug kissing the crown of my forehead.

He held me in his arms with my hands resting on his armor chest with his green eyes focused on mine. “I’ve told you when we started this relationship between you and I. That I don’t care what other people think of us. If they know about the kids then I’ll stand by your side and defend you always.”

“I know you will, Jaime. Everyone may say you are an oath breaker. But I know you better than everyone else does.” Moving myself away from his arms I turned to our kids who were waiting to just embrace him like crazy. “Go on you two.”

Laina and Alex didn’t waste a second before they ran forward when he bent down on his knees opening his arms. “Ohh there’s my little lion and lionesses.” He hugged each of them when they throw their tiny arms around his neck smiling into his shoulders.

Watching Jaime embracing his kids that were on the ground right in front of me. Wrapping my arms around myself I smiled at their interaction. Jaime and I knew that our relationship couldn’t be out in the open but that wasn’t something important to me or him. With our different status ranks it was rare for a servant and a former heir to a household who had become a member of the Kingsguard would end up together. “Daddy, are you going to be able to stay the night this time?” Alex asked his father with those hopeful eyes focused on him.

“Oh I don’t know..” Jaime started to say hating to not be able to say yes without hesitation.

Laina tugged his right hand giving him puppy dog eyes trying to convince him into saying only yes and nothing else. “Please daddy. We want to spend more time with you.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Come here.” He sent them a smile kissing each of their foreheads before he rose to his feet beside me knowing we had to go see whatever his sister wanted. If we didn’t she would come and figure out that Jaime had fathered other children with someone else that wasn’t her. And that wouldn’t end well for either of us.

Hugging our kids quickly I kissed their heads shooing them away back into the spot that we hide them from the staff that would patrols even the servants chambers at odd times without our knowledge. The only reason I knew about it was because Jaime saw one of the spies searching one morning. “I’ll be back in little while. Don’t answer the door unless you hear three knocks on it.”

“You’re worrying too much. It’s starting to show Y/n. You need to remain like we have nothing to hide from her.” Jaime warned me while we walked beside each not holding hands moving through the halls on our way to the Queen’s chambers.

Slumping my shoulders I huffed trying to take some breathes to calm my nerves down. "She's the queen of the seven kingdoms and your sister. She could put our head on spikes if she wishes. Especially since she'll probably think that I stole you away from her. There's not really a good answer to our situation."

Jaime slowly opened the door letting me walk in first and he shut it behind himself. Shifting my gaze forward I held in my breath seeing the queen of the seven kingdoms sitting at a table by the open window. Cersei Lannister leans back in her chair gesturing for us to join her. "Ser Jaime. Lady Y/n, please sit with me."

Slowly together we moved and sat down across from her where I gulped being the first one to break the silence in the room. "You're grace, I'm afraid I have to ask why exactly did you request us here?"

"I want you to know that you aren't worthy of my brother. You might have been somewhat worthy of him if you were born from a noble house but you aren't. You came here as a servant to me. And I know of the little ones you have given him. But don't think for a moment that he will show devotion to you!' She growled gripping the wine cup in her hands.

Parting my mouth opened I didn’t know what to say to her. “Your grace, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Oh cut the crap, servant girl. I know that the two kids who occasionally follow you around aren’t just yours but my brothers as well. Did you really think that I wouldn’t be able to notice the blonde hair and green eyes mixed with your physical features!” The queen cut me off with her sharp tongue. “Jaime and I belong together. You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t deserve you!”

Jaime slide his chair back with his hands resting on the table raising his voice towards his sister shocking the both of us. “You don’t get to talk about her that way. She is a better woman and lover than you will ever be. And I will be marrying her someday!”

Cersei jumped up to her feet slapping him straight across the cheek. “You lying cunt. Tell me you’re be a liar, Jaime!”

“Jaime?” I trailed off staring up at him taken back by his words.

His blonde hair was slightly falling in front of his green eyes but he didn’t have that cheeky smirk on his face and he didn’t look to be joking. He turned his hands into fists at his sides standing tall against his twin sister the queen. “I'm not joking, Cersei. I am falling in love with Y/n and our kids. And she is better than any high born lady..she's better than you ever were to me!"

"How dare you speak to me that way. I am the queen - I am your sister. We belong together, you and I. I will put your heads on spikes if you walk out that door!" She sent me a death glare where I gulped.

I didn't want to get in between the sibling fight. Even though I basically already was at this point. Jaime leans forward glaring at his twin sister knowing how to show he was confident in his words. "You won't be able to do anything once I tell father that his line is secure with two Lannister heirs."

"They're not born of noble blood. What makes you think that he will ever agree to your terms?" She teased him leaning on the table the same way he was with her blonde hair waving down her shoulders.

He didn't let his confidence drop at any time. "Because he told me family is all that lives on. He will just care that I will be his heir and that I have given him too grandchildren." He turned away from his sister offering me his hand tugging me up to stand until we had made it back to his chamber door.

Lifting my gaze up to his I squeezed his hand needing an answer. "I...I can't believe you said that to her. After everything that you've been through with her..and yet you chose me. And I don't get why we are at your chambers. The kids will wonder where we are at."

"I just want a few moments with you, Y/n." He responded with a bright smile kicking open the door dragging me inside pressing my back against the closed door. "Nothing I said in there was just for show. I meant every part of it. I want to marry you, Y/n. I want you to be my wife and the lady of Casterly Rock."

Wrapping my arms around his neck I smiled pulling his lips down onto mine. "I'd be honored to be your wife, Jaime Lannister. I think I am falling in love with you too"

"I'll talk with my father tomorrow. Now I just time with you and our kids." He responded wrapping his arms around my waist drawing me in for another kiss feeling me smiling into the long awaited kiss.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[twenty-thirty-two]

Restless

Poly!Marauders x female!reader

Warnings: mention of nightmares, brief description of mini panic attack (nothing too detailed), reader has hair that can be braided (doesn’t necessarily mean straight)

a/n: long overdue! I’m not too happy with how I ended this, had the right idea but can never figure out how to wrap it up :,)

Please understand that because I am 18+, I do not want minors on my page or reading my work

I also do not consent to my work being reposted on other sites, translated or copied

Nightmares

They’re your minds way of telling you that you’re not safe, even when you’re asleep

The sudden drop of your stomach was enough to wake you. Rather jolt you awake. You laid there, staring up at the ceiling trying to gather your thoughts and even out your breathing. Nightmares plague your nights, not one day passes where you’re not awakened with the memory of loved ones dying, or indescribable monsters attacking. No matter what it is, it’s after you, relentlessly.

Despite being recently awakened, you couldn’t remember what it was that scared you in the first place. You just felt this daunting feeling and now you’re awake, laying next to Remus, who is blissfully none the wiser of your current situation.

You debated waking him, he’d gladly stay up and hold you until you’ve drifted off in his arms.

That’s the issue- he’d do it without a second thought. You’d feel too guilty about waking him from his current slumber.

You sat up slowly, pulling your knees up to your chest. You run your hands over your face in frustration. Looking over, you see Sirius and James, entangled in one another’s arms, soundly sleeping.

Their serenity brews a feeling of jealousy in you. How you wish that was you.

You grab a nearby cardigan (you’re not even sure whose it is at this point) and slip quietly out of the dorm. You don’t even know where you’re going or how long you’re going to be out but you needed to get out of there.

Back in the dorm, Remus, half-asleep, throws his arm over to your side of the bed in order to pull you closer.

Upon hitting the empty side of the mattress, he lazily patted the area in search of your warmth. In a sleep-ridden haze, he became increasingly aware that you weren’t in bed, opening an eye, he peaked around to look for any sign of you. When he didn’t see you or your shoes, he assumed you were in the bathroom, and that seemed to calm his mind enough to go back to sleep.

You found yourself outside, breathing in the cool air of the night. A light breeze surrounded you, now ever so grateful that you brought some coverage. Ultimately, you decided that a midnight stroll around would be your best hope.

Wrapping the beige-color cardigan tighter around your body, the welcoming scent of James’ cologne overwhelms your senses. You fiddle with a loose thread on the left sleeve, no doubt the work of Remus during late night study sessions long after everyone else is asleep. The barely noticeable, yet, clear as day stain near the end aisle of buttons brings you back to the day when Sirius and James had a butterbeer drinking contest, the golden liquid dribbling down either side of the boy’s mouth, ultimately staining the cardigan, the rambunctiousness of the event was enough for Remus to chastise the aforementioned boy, going as far as to continue shoving drink after drink while you kept encouraging James.

The moon, acting as a guiding light as you make your way through the dark grounds. After some time aimlessly walking through, you decided to make your way back to the boys’ dorm.

For some reason, tonight was just one of those nights for Remus, when he simply could not get comfortable. The soft mattress has become a bed of stones, he hypothesizes that the floor would be much more comfortable at this point. As he’s dramatically throwing himself to face your side of the bed, he feels your side to be cold. This causes him to immediately sit up, messy tussles of hair standing in all directions. He throws the blanket off of him and sets out to the common room where he supposes you’d be.

Just as you’re welcomed into the common room, you’re startled by Remus’ sudden presence.

“Where’ve you been, bunny?” He pulls you into his side as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest.

“Can’t sleep.” He manages to make out the muffled words and sighs.

“Had me worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” You mumbled an apology that would’ve resulted in a quirked eyebrow and quick scolding.

He ushered the two of you up to the room and back to bed. Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, and when you finally did fall asleep, you jolted awake every so often. The same feeling you get when you’re dreaming that you’re falling. You knew that sleep was very important to Remus, always making sure that none of you stay up late and always making sure to get an early start to your morning, much to James’ dismay.

After what felt like a lifetime, you managed to drift off. Not long before you’re awoken by screaming and Sirius shaking you awake. You can hear Remus calling your name and a caressing hand on your head. You’re quick to realize that the screaming is coming from you. Your heart beating erratically and suddenly feeling like there’s not enough air in the room. You try to sit up but the most you can do is prop yourself up onto your elbows as sobs begin to escape from you.

To your left, you see Sirius running into the room with a glass of water and some cookies, shoving them into Remus’ hands. You’re looking at the situation in front of you but you cannot seem to focus, everything is too loud, too bright, and too overwhelming.

“Y/N/N? I need you to take some deep breaths for us, honey. Here, feel my heart- In and out.” Remus is sitting next to you, attempting to direct your breathing but you can only see straight ahead, hand limp in his hand.

James’ anxiety always skyrockets whenever one of you is in distress, he finds himself never doing enough despite having done the opposite. He’ll often look to Remus for instructions but always finds himself trying by one’s side bringing in his own form of comfort.

Sirius remained stoic, scared out of his mind for you; he didn’t know what to do, internally kicking himself for not jumping into action right away. He wanted to hold you- close to his chest and hide you away from all the pain in the world.

After another couple of minutes, A single tear slipped out, the sudden wet contact against your skin startled you. Your eyes drifted between the boys, a mix of worried, scared, and overall concern pales their faces. Teary eyes lock with James, his eyes full of sympathy and kindness. One after another, tears flow and a sigh of relief is released from your lungs.

After a beat, Sirius is the first to speak.

“What happened, bunny?”

“Haven’t-” A hiccup escapes

“Haven’t been sleeping well- nightmares.”

James leans forward and places a delicate kiss to your forehead, his hand cupping your face.

“How long?” Remus’ head cocked a tad to the side.

“‘Dunno, while maybe.” You mumbled. He taps your chin to get you to look at him.

“Know you’re tired, but I need you to speak clearly, honey.”

“I don’t know, few days?”

“Is that why you weren’t in bed last night? Y’had a nightmare?” You nod.

“C’mere.” Sirius holds out his arms and you crawl right into them

“This can’t continue, you know.” You nod.

“Siri’s right, Y/N/N, you need hours of uninterrupted sleep, running on 10 hours of sleep throughout a span of a few days isn’t healthy. Tomorrow, we’re going to see Pomfrey, see if she can give you something for the time being.” Remus smiles halfway as he notices that James has pulled you away from Sirius and begun braiding your hair.

The rest of the time the boys spent doting on you, making sure you were satisfied. You were hungry? Sirius brought you a plate of fruit. Thirsty? Remus made you a warm cup of tea. Need affection and cuddles? James practically pushes the two out of the way to plop himself beside you. They felt for you, they really did, nothing was worse than seeing their favorite person in the world in misery and not being able to do anything themselves. They’d take away all of the misery and pain at the drop of a hat if it meant that you were safe and happy all the time.

[dustandshadows-if]

Waking up in an alleyway covered in blood and with no memories is not a situation anyone wishes to find themselves in, yet here you are. With no other options, you're forced to run. From what? You're not entirely sure but you do know that if they catch you you'll find yourself suffering a fate far worse than death.

And so you run not knowing that running was quite literally going to make your life Hell. Now you have a monster in the shadows hunting you and a group of Shadowhunters, demon killers, claiming that you alone are responsible for a string of murders.

The worst part? You have no idea if you're innocent.

No memories, no allies, and no idea who you are the only thing you can do is try to find a way to prove your innocence before it is too late.

Somewhat customizable appearance (hair type and color, complexion, height, build). Mc does have a set eye color.

Four Romance Options (Two gender selectable options, one nonbinary option, and one female option)

Rediscover the life you lost or make a new one

Try to out run your past

Be an enemy of the clave (and well everyone)<3

Be severely behind on the politics of the shadow world

Oh and a voice that is very much not your own in your head

16+. Content warnings for implied torture, violence, swearing, child abuse/neglect, murder. This list will be updated as development continues

Ianira Clarke aka Nira | Age: ??? | Non-Binary | Warlock (Ro)

The high warlock of Seattle and one of the only friends that you have. Not that they would willing call you a friend, but that's besides the point. They've made sure to take care of you whenever you need help and have been working tirelessly to help you figure out what exactly happened to you. A good friend and an even greater ally; without Nira, you would've been dead on the street months ago.

Juliette Monroe | Age: 18 | Female | Vampire (Ro)

The very first person you met that didn't immediately want to kill you. She's the one who told you everything you need to know about the shadow world. Despite only being a vampire for a year she's managed to gain a good bit of fame throughout the shadow world of Seattle anyone who is anyone knows Juliette, but you're one of the lucky few who gets to actually know her. She's got a soft spot for you, but she'd rather walk into the sun than ever admit it.

Quinn Highsmith | Age: 19 | Gender Selectable | Shadowhunter (Ro)

One of the many that are hunting you. Honestly, they're so bad at catching you that one might think they're leading everyone astray on purpose... They claim to know you, but you have no memory of them. Part of you knows there was once something between the two of you, love that would've moved mountains with the way they still look at you. But that's in the past. Now, they're just another obstacle in your way, stopping you from proving your innocence.

Farrah Ashdown | Age: 19 | Gender Selectable | Shadowhunter (Ro)

Another shadowhunter and another person stopping you from clearing your name. Maybe in another life, you would've been able to truly know them for the kind and genuine person they seem to be. You'll almost never see them stray from Quinn's side. Their undying loyalty and desire for justice has made one of the nicest people to walk this Earth, your worst enemy.

Demo | Playlist | Pinterest

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: Leverage daemon au

(confession: I read the first 80% of golden compass in 2006 while waiting for christmas and thus new books and never finished it, so my rules for worldbuilding now!) Some things, everyone knows. Like how to breathe, and just as important. Separating hurts. Nothing cut can be made whole. Daemons don’t settle twice. Everyone in the business knew that Eliot Spencer’s Daemon had settled as an American black bear, and that Marron could kill just as viciously as he did.  Everyone deep in the business knew that he was Moreau’s right hand. Everyone in the business knew that Moreau’s best men were Severed.

Nate had never asked where Marron was, and neither had Sophie, though neither of them knew everything about his time with Moreau. He guessed they’d figured out something as close to the truth as anyone was going to guess, even Moreau. None but the two of them knew the truth, that Marron had run to save them both. That Marron had come back, a scruffy mongrel with a broken banner of a tail. She kept her distance the first few jobs, waiting in the Shadows. Eliot could always feel her there, just as strong as if she’d been only a few feet away. That wasn’t supposed to be how things worked, but no one had told Marron that. Parker, though, had noticed right away. “Like us,” she’d said, eyes flicking skyward. Rhodonite had settled as a Kestral young, after the first stint in Juvie. They’d agreed without needing to speak, aloud or otherwise, about it. That was how they worked. Who could say who’s idea anything they did was? They were the same, and neither of them suffered cages or locked doors lightly. “No,” Eliot had said, uncertain how much was a lie. “No,” Parker had returned. “You’re like us. It was safer. They don’t get that.” She was right about that. Hardison’s Chip, and Nate’s Vianney almost never left their shoulders. When Chip had to, it was usually to a pocket, and Vianney, though she could fly some distance away when a con called for it, preferred to stay as close as possible, where she could bite Nate’s ear, or preen his hair, depending on just how much of an ass he was being. It was easier to hide a pika than a parrot, unfortunately, but they always made do.  Remy helped with that. Remy had introduced himself when Nate had introduced Sophie to the team, a soft mink draped over a shoulder. “Remy. It’s short for anything you can think of,” he’d said, sliding off Sophie’s arm to investigate, shifting into a sleek, dark cat. He’d been Rembrant, Reminiscent, Remolade, Remnant; everything from a mobster’s coiled snake to a street rat’s street rat. It never bothered him what his name was, or what hers was--Sophie, Katherine, Charlotte, Laura. Names were as changeable as the color of her hair, the shade of his eyes.  “She never settles, so I don’t see why I have to. If you have a problem with that, I’ll bite you.” “I’ll bite you, too,” Sophie had laughed, a deadly glint in her eye. “So, Nate, what’s the score? What finally got you to try my side of the board?” The money had been good. The understanding--or at least, the hiding of judgment, was better. They’d split off and found their way back, again, again.

[roosterbruiser]

Can I request a Bradley thing where he goes in to get a tattoo and reader does his tattoo and he’s just super love stricken. Next thing he knows he’s going to get tattooed just to see reader till he finally asks her to go on a date??? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Honest to God, if Bradley knew that you were going to be the girl doing his tattoo today, he would've pretended to be sick to get out of the appointment. He would've just gone to a different tattoo place entirely. But it's too late now--he's here, sitting in your little cubicle with its potted plants and hand-drawn posters and knick-knacks and bluetooth speaker, and you're quietly humming as you look over his paperwork.

It isn't that he thinks you're incapable of doing his tattoo--God, no. You were the name that kept popping up when he asked around for artist recommendations, the highest rated artist in his area (and the surrounding three--but who's counting?). And he knows you'll do a good job because he's seen your work on other people and even if he hadn't, the posters on your wall are evidence alone. Bradley can draw a crude stick figure on a good day--so he is endlessly impressed with your skill.

It's just that you are the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. No, not just pretty--something above that. Beautiful, gorgeous. Fuck, you're ethereal even and Bradley hates people that say ethereal.

Everyone he talked to failed to mention that you are simply the prettiest person in every room you walk into and, Bradley knows just by looking at you, that you're probably the coolest person at every party you've ever been to.

You have big eyes that you wear bright colors on, which look almost too good against your skin and those pretty irises. Just looking at you legit makes Bradley want to bite his knuckle. You have a cool haircut, one that is polar opposite of all the Navy-issued chop-jobs he's so used to seeing, and your voice is raspy and lovely. You're wearing authentic vintage Levi's and a smooth bodysuit, one that hugs your body, one that shows the hills of your breasts so well.

Simply put--you're fucking perfect.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that you're so fucking nice. From the moment he walked through the door, you were all smiles, leading him back to your little area and talking him through everything without making him feel like an idiot. You were offering him drinks and asking what his ideas were and then complimenting his ideas. You were making all the little tweaks he wanted and not complaining about it even a little bit.

And now, as he sits on your table with his foot tapping incessantly on the tile, he's just watching your throat vibrate as you hum. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he does, it makes him want to rake his hands through his hair.

"Leather and Lace?" He asks you, perching a brow.

And the way you laugh, looking up at him with a bright grin as the sun kisses your face, should be illegal. You're about to put a needle to his skin and watch him cower in pain--he wishes you would take that into account and look less Goddess-like, for the sake of his ego.

"Stevie is my idol," you sigh, pointing casually to the portrait of her on your arm. He inspects it with a smile tugging at his lips, hoping his ears aren't as red as they feel. "You're a big music guy, then?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed. Isn't everyone a big music person? Who the fuck doesn't like music?

You like this guy--this guy that told you to call him Rooster for some reason. This guy who's wearing the ugliest vintage Hawaiian shirt you've ever seen. This guy who has a lewd pornstache, the one who somehow pulls off the lewd pornstache. God, this guy is still wearing his sunglasses inside, but he's just so goddamn cute. He has one of those infectious laughs and a headful of nice, sandy hair. He looks like California has kissed him--pretty. He just looks pretty.

But you can tell that he's nervous. Most people are before getting under the needle--you totally get it. Sometimes you still get nervous about it, too, despite having your arms almost all the way filled in. but you have a hard time imagining this hunk of a Navy man is nervous about a tattoo on his peck. Even just based on the scars littering his face and throat, you're certain he's been through worse.

"So," you sigh, moving your chair closer to him so he can see the paper in your hands that has the mock-up of his tattoo. He leans in and you get a whiff of sea salt and vetiver--God, he smells good. "I scaled down the legs just a bit. I was thinking some light shading through here and filling in here and here--is that okay with you?"

Rooster nods, swallowing hard, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It looks good," he tells you. "Like really, really good."

You beam at him.

"Well, thank you," you say softly. "I'm a big art girl."

It makes something come loose in his chest--some breath he's had bated releases through his smiling lips. You're teasing him, you're joking with him. It feels good--natural.

"So, with this detail, I'm gonna put us at three hours. Does that sound good?"

Rooster nods immediately--his afternoon is entirely clear. But the prospect of getting to be with you for three hours is exciting--so exciting that it makes his throat tight. Needle be damned, he's going to get to listen to that laugh for three hours. Three!

"Sounds great," he tells you.

You grin, clapping your hands together.

"Well, I bet we're gonna be good friends by the end of this, huh?"

He grins. He already aches to kiss you and he doesn't even know you. Rooster does consider himself a hopeless romantic--but this is a whole new line he's crossing.

You point to his shirt, a slight blush covering your cheeks.

"You can go ahead and take that off now. I'm gonna prep the area."

As he obliges, he watches as you grab a little plastic razor and some paper towels. You're putting gloves on and still humming along to music that isn't playing, mentally cataloguing everything you're gonna need presently.

"Prepping the area includes--?"

You smile, standing up. He still hasn't taken his tank-top off yet, but you can tell already that this guy is fucking ripped. Not even in the usual California way--no, this guy is like movie-star ripped. He looks like he's been plucked out of a blockbuster.

"Shaving and disinfecting," you tell him, gesturing to the razor.

He nods, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he finally shrugs his tank and lets it fall into the chair he was sitting in.

"At least let me buy you dinner first," he teases.

Then you laugh--it's the first time he's really heard you laugh. He likes the sound, likes that you laugh with your mouth closed and your eyes wide.

"We'll see how the tattoo goes," you wink.

You're very careful as you shave and disinfect him, humming Stevie Nicks and Don Henley still. And you can feel his eyes lingering on your face as you work, but it doesn't bother you. He has pretty eyes--you're glad he's looking at you.

"Wanna be the DJ?" You ask with a grin, nodding towards the speaker.

Rooster feels like his heart is about to fall out of his ass. If he'd have known that he was going to be DJing this three-hour tattoos session with you--the prettiest girl he has ever seen--he would've made a playlist. Like, a proper playlist. One that is carefully curated and accounts for all possible avenues of this appointment. His dad used to make his mom mixed tapes--he still listens to them. Even though he thinks that making playlists is only a fraction as romantic, he understands that it's the modern mixed tape.

"Sure," he says softly, connecting his phone. "Are you exclusively a Fleetwood Mac girl?"

You shake your head, making sure all your ink is set out on their stabilizing beds of petroleum jelly and your gloves are intact. You pat the bed and he takes the hint, laying down while you adjust the light above you. Jesus, his muscles are practically rippling and he's not even doing anything.

"Mainly," you tell him, running your fingers along his peck and trying not to drool. "But I'm pretty diverse with my music. Hit me with your best shot."

Bradley suddenly feels nervous--put on the spot. It isn't even that he is about to have a needle against his skin. No, he was in Afghanistan, he doesn't really give a fuck about three hours of needle pricks. He cares about picking a song you think is lame. God, he'd just die of embarrassment if you didn't like what he chose.

As if you can sense his sudden nervousness, you grin up at him--it has the ability to completely relax his shoulders.

"C'mon, flyboy," you smile at him, readying your tattoo gun, "give it to me."

And suddenly Bradley can't breathe. You know that--it's why you said it. You watch him suck in a breath, watch him flounder for words, watch his pupils blow. Now he knows what it feels like for you to stare at his upsettingly beautiful midsection.

So Bradley gives it to you--very subtly turning on Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. It makes the both of you laugh--you even dance a little bit for him, in a silly and unserious way that makes his heart warm.

"Bet you're a good time at the bars," he tells you with a grin.

You nod rapidly, biting your lip.

"Oh, I'm the best to go to bars with," you tell him with a grin. "I dance and I sing and I drink."

"Triple threat," Bradley grins.

You nod again, chewing on your lip again. This guy is cute--like too cute for his own good.

"Few and far in between," you say, sighing. "I'm really a spectacle."

His heart is sitting in his throat. He loves the way you blush when you're being mockingly egotistical--he thinks that makes you genuine. Genuine and confident.

"I'd gladly spectate you at any bar," he says. You smile at him, the blush in your cheeks darkening as you narrow your eyes slightly. "You know, if you're up for it."

Your answer is a resounding yes--you know that already. But you can't just give it to him like that--you like to keep guys on their toes. Especially Navy boys.

"Actually, I have a two-tattoo minimum dating requirement," you sigh, shrugging.

He smirks at you. He can do this--he can do the chase.

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"Unfortunately," you say.

"What's your availability look like tomorrow?"

There's that sweet laugh again--it's bigger this time. God, Bradley loves to make you laugh. You just look so fucking happy. Happiness looks really, really good on you.

It isn't hard for him to imagine that you really are the best person to go to the bars with. He can imagine you in a pretty little skirt, sweat dampening your hairline as you twirl on the dance floor, the golden lights above you reflecting off the glitter on your eyelids. He can imagine that your warmth would be enough to heat the entire place. You seem like someone who is just down--down for anything and everything. He likes that.

"Ready?" You ask sweetly not a moment after, still laughing quietly.

He just nods, blinking rapidly at you.

The three hours honestly flies by. The pain really isn't all that bad, not when you're making conversation the entire time. By the end of the tattoo session, he knows where you grew up and that you don't have a boyfriend and that you have a cat named Strawberry and that you don't have a boyfriend and that your favorite food is street tacos and that you don't have a boyfriend and your first concert was Neil Young. Oh, and that you don't have a boyfriend.

And by the end of the tattoo, you know that Bradley is getting the tattoo in memory of his father, who was also in the Navy. You know that he has an affinity for Jerry Lee Lewis. You know that he has a vintage car and an endless collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts. You know he's gonna be stationed here indefinitely and that he hangs out at the local Navy bar--The Hard Deck. And you know that he is endlessly pleased that you don't have a boyfriend.

"Careful sitting up," you warn softly as you take your gloves off. "You've been laying down for a while. Want a hand?"

Bradley feels totally fine. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pushed his body to the brink in his life. Laying down for three hours having a conversation with the prettiest girl he's ever seen is like a luxury for him. But he wants to touch you--so he lets you grab his hand, lets you help him sit up.

And then the two of you are close--like close enough that he can smell that sweet, flowery musk on your skin. He can see the little flecks of his favorite color in your eyes and the way your lashes fan out over your cheeks.

And you can see his scars when you're this close, these pretty white lines that roll over his skin like ridges on a map. You like scars--as an artist, you think they're part of what make bodies art. They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge.

He doesn't move for a moment, just looking down at you with that sweet smile, just letting his eyes wash over you. And you don't move from his gaze--you feel totally comfortable in it. You haven't known Bradley for long, but you're a good people reader. You can tell that this man, intrinsically, is a good person.

"Don't you wanna check out your new ink?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He makes a show of glancing down at his chest with his eyebrow perched. Then he hums and nods in approval. When he looks back up at you, you're biting a grin of your own.

"So," he starts softly. "Your availability tomorrow?"

eeeeek fun fact about me: I have eighteen tattoos! so it would by me greatest HONOR to write this little fic!!

[sissylittlefeather]

A/N: here it is! I finally finished it! This could be a prequel to my other two, if you want it to be. Otherwise, it's just a fun 2nd person Elvis x fem!reader one-shot about a young and innocent Elvis on the night he becomes a man. There are most definitely historical inaccuracies, but let's just let those slide please 🥺. I'd love feedback, if you have any!

Warnings: Virgin Elvis, f/m p in v sex, fingering, lots of kissing, kind of a slow burn, unprotected sex, cussing, etc

Last thing: I'm using a gif of Austin Elvis and one of the real deal EP because you can imagine either one. Whatever makes your heart happy.

Baby, What's Your Name?

You've always been bold for a girl of your generation. Your first kiss was your idea and you haven't been "innocent" for a while now. Not that you are open and available for anyone, you just don't hold back when it comes to falling in love.

The year is 1955 and your friend Margie has begged you to come with her to a concert tonight. You have class the next day, and you take your college studies very seriously, but you figure you can still get home at a decent hour. Apparently, there's a new singer that Margie is gushing over. She's heard from other girls that he's supposed to be "something to see". Margie doesn't have much else going on; school isn't exactly her thing. She'll tell anyone who'll listen that she's only there to find a husband. You roll your eyes at this thought and go back to flipping through your closet for something to wear.

"Y/n, just pick something! We're going to be late!" Margie begs, pouting. You settle on a pink and white gingham sundress, sweeping your hair into a ponytail and tying it with a matching pink ribbon. You barely get your shoes on before Margie drags you out the door of your room on campus.

******

The crowd is almost entirely female. "Who is this guy?" You think to yourself. Oh well, no matter. Hopefully it'll be over soon and you can go home and get in bed. It's already late and it's a warm night for September. Margie is bouncing around next to you in her seat.

"Oh my gosh, I just can't wait until he comes out! Eliza said he's the cutest thing she's ever seen!" You roll your eyes again. You do that a lot around Margie. You didn't pick her to be your roommate; the university did. Still, she's been a decent friend, even if she's a little ditsy and boy crazy.

Finally, the other acts are finished and the announcer comes out to let you know this new artist is coming out.

"Please welcome to the stage Elvis Presley!"

The crowd goes absolutely insane. You start to wonder if maybe you've been studying too much. How could you not know this man that everyone else is so crazy for?

He walks out to the middle of the stage. He's wearing a pink jacket that matches the color of your dress. You're surprised to find that he's much more attractive than you imagined he would be, with his boyish smirk and black hair. You sit up a little straighter in your chair, but a group of girls has gathered in the front standing up, so you can't really see anymore from your seat.

Margie grabs your hand, "Come on! Let's go up there!"

"No, no I'm okay here."

Then he starts to sing. Your heart skips a beat and something deep in your stomach turns over. You stand up without even thinking, trying to see better. Margie takes the opportunity and grabs your hand. You don't fight back as she drags you up to the stage.

When you get close enough to really be able to see him, the thing in your stomach flip flops again. He's moving. And not just, like, tapping his foot. He's moving his legs and his hips in ways you didn't even think was possible... not in public, at least. The thing in your stomach moves deeper in your body to the place between your legs. You are drawn to him like he's got some kind of spell on you. More girls press in behind you, but thanks to Margie, you were up there pretty early and you're only one row back from the stage.

You need him. You need him to notice you and want you too. You start racking your brain for what you can do to get his attention. Every other girl around you is screaming like a fool. That won't work. They're also reaching for him like they might pull him off the stage if he gets close enough. He's moving around the stage quite a bit, but he's very careful never to get too close. If only you had something to throw... but you don't have anything in your hands, no bracelets or anything, and the ribbon from your ponytail isn't heavy enough to make it all the way to the stage. He's singing a slower song now, playing his guitar and looking around the crowd. Somehow, his blue eyes make contact with yours and your heart stops. You become acutely aware of your panties and the place on your body directly under them.

Wait. That's it! That would certainly get his attention. And you could easily get them off with the crowd surrounding you. Also, your full skirt that goes all the way to your knees will keep anyone from really knowing they're missing. You start working them down your thighs and Margie notices you wiggling next to her.

"What are you doing?!"

"Don't worry about it."

Finally, you feel your panties hit your ankles and rest on your shoes. It's nearly impossible with the crowd pressing in around you, but you manage to get them off your feet and into your hand. You take a second to thank the heavens that you were wearing pretty pink ones with lace, and not your laundry day undies. You look up to the stage, assessing how hard to throw them to make it right to where he's standing. After spending years playing baseball with your brothers as a kid, you're pretty confident you can get them there.

You take one last look at him; he's holding the mic at an angle, leaned over it and singing with his whole body. The second he finishes the song and stands up, you use all the strength in your arm and calculations you've just done and throw...

They land perfectly at his feet. You couldn't have possibly done any better if your life depended on it. Margie and the other girls directly around you stop and look at you, trying to figure out what you've thrown on the stage.

"Now, what's this?" He asks, picking your panties up from his feet and holding them up. When he realizes what they are, he blushes deeply.

"Well, that's something I didn't expect." He laughs into the mic and looks out into the audience to try to figure out who has given him such an awkward gift. The other girls are staring at you with their mouths open, so it's not hard for him to figure out. Your blush matches his, though, so he simply nods his head slightly in your direction, puts your panties in his pocket quickly and quietly, and moves on to his next song. The girls go back to screaming and you feel various others in the crowd wiggling like you did just minutes ago. Before he can even finish the song, panties are flying on stage left and right. He starts laughing, "ladies, I'm very flattered, but this is really unnecessary!"

The announcer rushes back out onto the stage, stepping between Elvis and the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley, for such a lovely show! Now, that's the end of our program for the evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out and be safe on your way home!"

You feel a little guilty for ending his set early with your panty-throwing, but you didn't make all those other girls go crazy. Still, you wish he would stay up there forever, singing and moving his hips. You're not ready for this feeling to go away. Another crazy thought enters your head. Maybe you'll try to get your panties back...

******

It wasn't hard to figure out where he is staying. There's really only one nice motel in town and the cars from his tour caravan are in the parking lot. You managed to convince Margie to go on home, so you're alone. You're a little nervous, walking into the motel office, but your boldness wins out.

"Hi. I need to know which room Mr. Presley is in."

"Yeah, you and every other girl in town."

"Right, but he asked for me. Call him. I just forgot the room number." It's a flimsy lie and you know it. The motel worker picks up the phone and dials "121".

"Never mind, I was lying. You caught me. I had to try though, right?" You chuckle softly as you back out of the office. Once you're outside, you head straight to room 121. When you get there, you have a sudden attack of nerves. It's so late at night and you're about to knock on the door of a man you've never actually met. This is crazy.

You're standing there trying to decide what to do when the door opens and he almost walks straight into you.

"Oh, I'm sorry darlin', I didn't even see you there." You're frozen to the spot, speechless at his closeness to you as he stands in the doorway of his motel room. He explains something about wanting to talk to someone about how to keep the show going, even if the crowd gets rowdy.

"But I'm not sure why I'm telling you this. Why are you here?" His brows knit together in the center of his forehead.

"Me? I'm just... well... I believe you have something of mine." Again, your boldness beats your fear and you walk past him into his room. He looks out the door and around nervously before closing it gently and turning around to face you. The curtains are pulled shut tightly and the glow from the lamps makes everything in the room kind of orange.

"Something of yours? Honey, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"Something I threw on the stage." You look him dead in the eyes, hoping he'll recognize you.

"Oh. Oh! It's you!" Thank heavens, he does recognize you. He blushes again, not as deeply this time, but the memory is affecting him.

"I do have something of yours, but I have no intention of giving them back." He smiles playfully and walks across the room to where his jacket is hanging on the back of a chair. He pulls your panties out of his jacket pocket and holds them tightly in his fist.

"The way I see it, you gave me these, fair and square."

"Well, I wasn't really thinking, and it's weird not wearing any..." you realize what you've just told him and his eyes slowly drift to just below your waist before he snaps them back up to meet your eyes again. He swallows hard and you stand there awkwardly, not sure what to say next. You walk across the room to him and reach for your panties. He holds them up high over your head and pouts.

"Do you really want them back?"

You're standing so close to him now that you can feel him breathing. Your heart is in your throat with the sensation of his closeness. You don't want your panties back. You want something else entirely.

"No..." you whisper quietly, trying to signal him that he could kiss you if he wants to, that he should kiss you.

Somehow, he reads your signals correctly and leans in slowly. He moves carefully watching for signs that this isn't what you want, but your upturned face and eyes closed softly are exactly what he's hoping for. When his lips finally touch yours, they're gentle, but soon after he drops your panties on the floor and grabs your face with both hands. His lips part yours and his tongue dips into your mouth hungrily. He moves his hands to your waist and you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a more passionate kiss. You're locked together like this for some time, kissing, before you realize his hands are shaking lightly. He pulls out of the kiss and puts his forehead on yours, breathing heavily.

"You kiss me like this much more, darlin' and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop."

He pulls back and looks at you, his mouth hanging open in mild shock. You can't figure out why he's so nervous. You're saying "yes" in every way you know how. He swallows again deeply and blushes a little.

"Aw, now, honey, don't say things you don't mean. I've never..."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. His nervousness is starting to make sense. He's never done this before. He's a virgin.

The realization makes you smile and you giggle a little at the thought. This man, who dances on stage like he does this every other night, has never actually been with a woman.

"Well, it's not that funny." He pouts again.

"No, I'm sorry, it's not funny at all. But if you don't want to do this, tell me now. Because I won't let you if you really don't want to." You smile reassuringly, but your body is aching for him to touch more of you.

"I didn't say I don't want to." He goes in for another deep and passionate kiss, his tongue moving in ways you'd never imagined. All you can think about is his tongue touching you in other places and that warm spot between your legs gets even warmer. He picks you up by the waist, lifting your feet off the floor just enough to carry you to the bed. Laying you gently on the bed, he stops for a second and looks at you laying there in your pink gingham dress. You prop yourself up on your elbows and kick off your shoes.

"What?"

"Nothing... I just... pink is my favorite color." He mumbles before laying on the bed next to you. You're both laying on your sides facing each other and he begins to undress you carefully, first untying the ribbon in your hair. Then he slides his hand down your back to unzip your dress. The zipper ends where your panties should be, but aren't, and as his fingers brush your skin, you tingle all over. His hand travels back up to the latch of your bra. He fumbles with it for a bit, his fingers trembling, before he finally gets it unclasped. You become keenly aware that all he has to do is slide your dress forward and down and you'll be completely naked. You can see by the bulge in his pants that he's had this thought too. You put your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Honey, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He pulls your dress and bra forward and off of you, standing up to drop it on the floor with your shoes. Now you can really see his hardness pushing against his pants. He takes his shirt off and you sit up to unbutton his pants, letting them drop to the floor next to the pile of your clothes.

Now you're both naked. You touch him gently and he sighs and looks up at the ceiling. After a few seconds of this, he almost can't stand it anymore, so he lays you down on the bed, crawling on top of you, still trembling, but obviously gaining confidence. He presses his lips to yours again and you rub your tongue along his bottom lip before he opens his mouth into a deeper kiss. His hand moves down your body, stopping to caress your breast and run his thumb over your nipple. His hand shakes less and less as he moves further down your torso to your hip. He rolls to the side a little and walks his fingers over to the place between your legs. You open them just enough for him to slip a finger inside you. You let out a small moan against his mouth as he moves his finger in and out and in again. You stop kissing him and look into his eyes, reaching down to his hand. Gently, you guide his thumb to the spot that makes your stomach turn over and your heart beat faster.

"Here. Do circles." He listens eagerly and does exactly as you tell him. He feels the knot harden as he massages it, so he keeps up a consistent rhythm. You lose the ability to give him further instruction-- he doesn't need it anyway-- as the pleasure builds up between your legs. You can feel yourself approaching your climax and prepare yourself for the fireworks. He's watching you so closely, taking cues from your body about what to do next. He puts his finger back in you, doing a tickling motion with his fingertip against your insides. You might burst with all the electricity flowing through your body.

"Oh! Yes! Fuck!" You cry out as the ecstatic release washes over you and you begin to pulse around his finger. He smiles widely, amused by your cussing and pleased with his ability to give you an orgasm on his first try. You're not exactly sure how he managed it, but you really don't care. You're still riding your body high. He moves his hand back to your hip and you feel your wetness on his fingers. He's kissing you again, grinding his hardness against your thigh. Despite your release, you're ready for more of him inside you. You reach down again, wrapping your hand around him softly and moving his hips to line up with yours. You put his tip against yourself and pull back from his kiss.

"Last chance to back out." He smiles and looks directly into your eyes. Then, he pushes forward with his hips, just like he did on stage, filling you entirely. The sensation almost overwhelms him and he sets his forehead on your shoulder.

"Oh fuck, baby." Now it's your turn to smile at him for cussing.

"It actually gets better." He lifts his head off your shoulder to look into your eyes and there's an excitement in his that almost makes you laugh out loud. Instead, you plant a kiss on his lips and wrap your legs around his waist. He starts to pump in and out rhythmically. You're not surprised that he's good at this part. You've seen him move on stage. Still, you know he probably won't last too long, since it's his first time, and there's more you want to show him. You release him from your legs and push him off of you and onto his back.

"Oh no baby what...?" With one leg on either side of his hips, you lower yourself onto him. He nearly loses his mind as the change in angle changes the sensation. He moans deeply and grabs your hips, guiding your movement as you ride him. His pleasure is building up and you know he's close as you slide up and down. You move faster and faster, pushing him toward his climax.

"Oh fuck, shit, fuck baby!" He yells as you feel him shudder underneath you and fill you with his warmth. He moans loudly as you move up and down a few more times to really push him over the edge. With him still inside you, you lean forward and lay on his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

"Wow, honey, that was... wow." You smile against his chest, satisfied with your work. After a good amount of time in this position, you move off of him and lay down next to him on your back. He props himself up on his elbow and turns to face you.

"How soon can we do it again?" You chuckle at his eagerness as you realize you won't be making it back to your room tonight. Suddenly, his eyebrows come together on his forehead in worry and you rearrange yourself to look him in the face, mildly concerned at his expression. You brace yourself for some kind of confession. Instead, he smiles and innocently asks:

"Baby... what's your name?"

You erupt in peals of laughter, wrapping your arms around him and rolling over on top of him. You think of the panties on the floor of his motel room, so glad that Margie dragged you to the concert tonight. This might be the beginning of something wonderful.

"My name is..."

[thegirlnextdoorssister]

You can run but you can’t hide: Chapter 1: Soulmate

(Soft!Dark! Soulmate AU)

Summary: Lloyd Hansen had been told from a young age that he’ll one day find his other half. What they didn’t tell him was that not everyone was as excited as him to find their other half.

Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Warnings for the series: noncon/dubcon, rape? just to make sure, age gap, manipulation, sex used as punishment? edging? soft!dark! gonna give you whiplash, forced breeding, breeding kink, language, violence, blood, past abusive/toxic relationship

Warnings for this chapter: language, allusion to past toxic/abusive relationship

A/N: Buckle up, that’s all I have to say. This chapter is a short one.

As always MINORS DNI

Divider by @maysdigitalarts

18+ only and consent banners by @maysdigitalarts

Chapter 1: Soulmate

Soulmate.

What’s a soulmate?

Someone who you’re destined to be with. Someone who completes you. Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. I don’t need a soulmate to complete me or for them to control me. My mother was better off without one. 

My mother’s soulmate, my father, they were in love-wait no, my mom was in love. She would have done anything for him and she did, she still wasn’t enough in his eyes. 

Yeah, I wish never to meet my soulmate. I’ve seen firsthand what a soulmate can do to you, the person who’s supposed to “love and protect you”. What my parents had would never be love. 

That’s why when I had the chance I fled and never looked back, now 5 years later, I’m happy as can be. I’m alone and happy.

I just have to move to a new town since I've been here for 7 months already. That's not what I normally do, usually, I stay for about 5 months and then on to the next town since it’s unlikely to meet your soulmate or anyone when you just go to 3 places-hotel, a job, a store. It’s been the perfect set-up for the past 5 years. 

I don’t have much stuff, so that makes it easier to move from place to place. I’m still packing everything inside my car. 

“Just you, me, and the open road”, I tapped the roof of my car after putting the last of my things inside. I never felt anything during any moves before but this time I felt my heart beating abnormally fast, fear maybe? but of what I don’t know.    

Getting inside the car, I take a deep breath before starting the engine. What type of job would I find this time? bartender? waitress? A dog sitter?  Hopefully my boss this time isn’t a perverted asshole, god just thinking about my time working at the retail store makes my skin crawl. I need to listen to some music.

The sound of Love Her Madly by The Doors playing filled the air in the car.

Don’t you love her madly?

Wanna be her daddy?

Don’t you love her face?

Don’t you love her as she walkin' out the door? 

Like she did one thousand times before

I hope she got out of there alive, that is if his love hadn’t killed her already. He was the reason I left not her but that was the price to pay, either I stayed and get punished or run away and survive. I felt the cool air cares my skin as I rolled down my window. The smell of fresh air, sweet sweet freedom.

«5 hours later»

Welcome to Âme soeur

French, huh? That's weird, I had no idea that there were little French towns. I should look up the meaning of it. I should make a rest stop, I've been driving for hours and I feel like sleeping. So I guess Âme soeur it is. Now time to find a motel but it doesn’t look like there are any buildings close by. It looks completely abandoned. Ghostown. Spooky. 

Ahh…finally a motel. Not the best looking but it's a motel what do you expect? Getting out of the car, the air felt different, heavy. After locking the car, I made my way to the front desk. A girl wearing the motel uniform sat at the front desk. She had charcoal-colored hair and the dullest blue I'd ever seen. A wall of room keys was behind her.

“Hello, do you have a room available?”, I asked. She just stared at me, like she was trying to figure me out. 

“We just have one available”, she plainly said typing away on the computer. She truly looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. “Ok, I’ll take it”, I smiled. She turned to get my room key, and that's when I saw it, for a split sec, a mark on the back of her neck but she turned back just as quickly. Weird. She handed me the room key. As took the room key, she stayed silent. I left with a quick “bye”, I got to my car and opened the trunk to get my things out. I felt goosebumps on the back of my neck, and my bag fell from my hand as I touched the back of my neck. I looked around but shook it off and picked up my bag and the air felt somehow heavier than before. I looked for my room key to see the room number. My heart stopped. 

Room 222.

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[twimshi]

Shattered Realities Prt.1 (Hobie brown/P!Reader)

ALSO THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT SINCE IVE NEVER WRITTEN LIKE THIS BEFORE.

What happens if someone from our universe where no superheroes exist, falls into the society of superheroes

"She isn't glitching"

She doesn't remember falling until she feels her stomach flip, her eyes flying open with the multitude of colors that blind her vision as she catapulted.

She also dosent remember screaming but she most definitely was.

"Holy shit-" Her arms are flailed and bent in all types of positions trying to possibly slow her descent as she hits the hard pavement.

It doesn't.

She thinks something pops but pays no mind to it because of the crowd forming around her.

Multiple people in a familiar red jumpsuit surround her vision.

She slowly gets up despite the pain in her left shoulder to examine everything around her.

Before she even tries to run away someone shoots something that reminded her of a tazer she saw in a minions movie once, but without the electric shock part, causing her to fall before her hands were stuck together making her fall on her face.

Though the impact alone didn't hurt her elbow sent a jolt of pain across her entire body making her scream in pain.

"Who is she?" One says on a horse.

Oh my god was she on drugs?

"Is she another Spiderman?" Another who looks almost the same as the other's outfit but blue says.

No way she can't be on drugs.

"Why is she here dressed all normal" A talking Lego says.

So many questions were asked before someone pulled her upright by a strong person, he kind of looked like a bear.

She considers the idea of her being on LSD at this very moment.

A really buff one in fact.

Who was also wearing a skin-tight suit?

He summons, well calls some robots to do a scan on her which sends a little shiver down her body.

The machine speaks "Foreign entity, no universe"

This sends the crowd of people into a frenzy, are they people? Probably some weird nerds.

Why are so many lights?

The strong angry teddy looing man manages to calm everyone.

"Who are you?" He says not even introducing himself, what a rude bear she thinks to herself.

So many red people.

Her eyes hurt.

Her shoulder hurts.

She wants to vomit.

Her head lolls to the back, something he recognized making his heart almost drop before going back to interrogation mode "Kid answer- Hey, hey hey don't just fall!"

She vomits and passes out.

-

".............We can't find out where she's from"

"............Maybe your system is bugged"

"............Maybe your brain is bugged"

Then the door closes when she hears someone complain about them being too loud and hears whoever that was talking stomp out.

She groans waking up, throwing off the blanket that was kindly placed on her, and stretches her arm - was it fixed? "Can you guys keep it down, my head hurts"

"You're awake" The one with The hijabi says, coming toward her "How did you get here?"

"I just fell?"

"Fell?" The girl in twin buns said before retracting her words "I'm Byte by the way, but is that all you remember before you fell? Like can you at least tell us your name so we can narrow down your location?"

"Yeah, it's..." Her heart drops.

Her brain is swirling on itself.

"My name is..."

The two share a look that makes her play with her hair nervously, trying to figure out what was happening.

Her body feels empty all of a sudden.

Sun-spider who has entered the room for nothing other than snooping coughs (who has not introduced herself by name) to try to break whatever nervous silence that was forming "As much as I love suspense, please tell us. I gotta get the ice cream machine working again"

She tries again, this time she's clawing her hair to grasp on anything - but every time she seems to get closer to anything, the memory falls into itself.

A nervous smile exits her lips.

It seems like the static in her head becomes louder and louder.

"I don't know..."

Byte raises a brow in concern, checking her head for injuries while questioning her "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I just can't, I don't remember anything" She says, all of the uncomfortable aura leaving her in an instant like a reset button.

Essentially returning her back to her ditsy self.

But Byte isn't convinced

"Are you sure?" She says moving closer to her and turning on another device to scan her heartbeat in case she was lying.

"Yup" The girl replies her bright mood suddenly lifted, which the others found odd, but she spins her head around "Where is the scary guy?"

"Why are you asking?" Byte says

"Just so I can avoid him, he scares me"

Byte chuckles and turns off her device, grabs the other girl, and shakes her head.

"He uh...A little rough on the edges"

The girl nods suddenly like she gets it "Like a cool brooding backstory?"

"Brooding?"

"Ah you know like usually that's what you describe an angry old person with a backstory that made them all like lonely and sad when originally they were a happy and nice person"

Malala nods trying to understand the girl, but also invested in anything about that is about Miguel.

"I haven't read a book in ages so it's like a character thing" Byte tries.

"Yeah! It's like that..."

"What's wrong?"

"Just remembering something, I used to write fanfiction"

Malala claps her hands seemingly finding it amusing as Byte signals the girl to continue "And?"

The anomaly girl looks slightly confused, what else was she supposed to say? "And that's all"

"That's all you remembered?"

"Yup, I used to write stuff like ship stuff that was a little canon divergent I think? I don't remember-"

Malala jumps onto the girl "Dont say that out loud again"

The girl looks at her and Byte whose expression was similarly as frightened as the Hijabi.

"But it-"

"Remember big Bear man?" The girl nods and lets Byte continue "Well he is rather....what's the word"

Malala awkwardly twidles with her headscarf "...Sensitive"

Byte nods "Yup that word, he's already worked up about you being here. I don't think he is getting much sleep so we need to just ban that word"

"Yup, banzo it" Malala adlibs on top of the girl.

Byte feels a lightbulb appear on her head "Why not we just talk about hobbies to try to get you to remember stuff about yourself so we can narrow your universe's location now?"

The anomaly girl gasps "You want to talk about my hobbies? Wow " She stays silent for a moment before saying "Wait universe?"

-

Somehow they've only found three things after three hours.

"So we narrowed down your universe with the little information you gave us about...Whale calling noises and the Lorax musical with the deleted song biggering"

"Hey, the noises whales make are cool and doesn't every universe have a deleted Lorax song?"

"Well, a couple but most of them use 'Biggering' in the musical number"

"But that's like the best song ever. Does my universe just suck?"

"Maybe" Byte shakes her head "We're getting sidetracked, is there anything else you remember?"

"Nope. Anyways, back to the Lorax-"

Miguel cusses something inaudible in Spanish when he overhears the conversation and calls Lylla "Did you do a scan on her yet?"

"Already did" He groans and signals her to continue "She showed no signs of memory loss or even anything developing like dementia"

He looks back at the scene, of the glitch he likes to call rambling to Byte about the amazing soundtrack that is 'Biggering'

"Lylla scan possible universes with minimal to no superheroes"

"Gotcha"

-

Jessica comes back from a mission thinking she can just report to Miguel that her mission went smoothly and go home, she always thinks that "You're telling me you just want to drop the girl to a random universe?"

"Ideally, no. But we need to then yes" He said, catching her up on the situation that happened while she was out.

She watches Miguel pace back and forth "Won't that affect the canon?"

"From the information I gathered from Malala and Byte who are getting along with her just fine. She says that Spiderman is fiction where she's from, from what she remembers at least. There were many but with her knowledge of her musical we managed to narrow down surprisingly three potential universes"

Jess nods at this information and watches the security footage to analyze how she got here in the first place until she notices something abnormal and zooms into the anomaly girl and rewinds the video.

She calls for Miguel and replays the footage, which he replies with "Dont bother I've rewatched that footage and analyzed all the portals"

"Please tell me you at least noticed this"

"Notice what?" Miguel has not had time to take an actual look in the mirror for a couple days due to a new anomaly from earth-1048, a video game anomaly, nothing new, but another headache.

Jess zooms into the anomaly girl for the rest of the footage "She isn't wearing a wrist band"

His eyes widen, she's right.

Since she's arrived here, she has never glitched.

Not even once.

Thats...impossible

"What do we do now" Jess says equally as distraught as him.

Miguel sends a quick text to Byte and gets an immediate reply then looks back at Jess "I don't know either, but Byte is running a few tests on her while she naps with her and I quote 'Enthusiastic consent'. Everyone was so shocked by her being a non-spiderperson and since she never glitched no one noticed"

Miguel takes a very slow exhale to think.

If she wasn't glitching then she can't be an anomaly.

Maybe that was a glitch on its own?

He notices Jessica scanning his face for a response, so he gives her one "Let's just put it to rest for now, since she isn't causing any trouble" He had stayed up monitoring the activity of the universes that involved Spiderman.

She nods her head, seemingly tired out for the day also, before she leaves a question pops up in her mind You said that you narrowed down her universe to three, that's a tight deduction. What musical was it? Hamilton?"

Miguel does not want to say the ridiculous cartoon name but says it anyways "......It was the Lorax"

Jessica almost snorts when she leaves the room leaving him alone.

He might as well get some sleep while he can.

-

After he knocks out for a thirteen-hour nap, Miguel looks at the anomaly girl and is reluctant on how to call her while she's converting with Malala and Byte so he just barges in and calls out "Girl"

The three girls turn to him with a confused expression.

"The one that's not Spiderman"

They all make an oh noise.

"Webby tie your shoe lasses you might trip" Says Byte.

"You remember your name?" Miguel is almost hopeful.

She placed her hand on her hip "Uhm no? I just named myself Webby since all of you have web designs on you"

Miguel is hopeless.

Anomaly girl- no Webby says with sass with her hands on her hips after poorly tying her shoe lasses like it's a fact that everyone should know but Miguel certainly does not seem to care enough.

He tosses her an empanada from the cafeteria which she catches, he notes her reflex "Eat something now because we're going"

"Goinsh?" She asks while chewing.

"Yes going" He cringes at her and gives her a tissue to wipe her face, she blows her nose instead "Just eat some motion sickness pills before we go"

Webby rolls her eyes but nods at the tall man as he still intimidated her, so she quickly finishes her food and gets some pills before meeting up with Jessica Drew, who had a small bump on her belly.

It was either bloating or that she was pregnant, Webby didn't want to ask but she thinks it was the after when Jessica held her stomach in a cradling motion.

Webby made sure she mentally remembered every single detail about this place so she could never forget it in her brain.

Jess looks at the girl whose eyes were becoming a little bugged out and red from how much she was forcing the open to take in the view.

"You know you can just take a picture right?"

She finally blinked her eyes in pain "Ouch, I would if I had a phone. It might have fallen when I was uh...Falling through the portal"

"I'll make sure we do a full sweep of the place to find it"

The girl's eyes widen and profusely thanks her hand as they walk "Thank you so much"

"Likewise, we can walk slower, just so you can get a good look at everything"

And that's exactly what they did, Webby is sure to talk about this to her friends (If she can remember them) about this.

Something catches her eyes in the distance, it was a boy whose entire border was changing as if he was made out of scrapbooks, his ears adorned with piercings.

As he played the guitar, every new strum seemed to change his color palate.

Webby couldn't help but stare

Jess also couldn't stop staring, mostly because she was telling him that his guitar was untuned.

He yelled back something about consistency and groaned when Jess told him to show the newbies around saying "I'm doing this because I like to see newbies, not because you told me to"

For a split moment, they both retain eye contact before Jess pulls her aside to go to Bytes lab because they needed to go.

Byte, Malala, and Sun Spider share a hug before Miguel calls for her and opens a portal, coincidently what she can assume emo punk was in the room bringing what she can assume is a newbie.

"Hobie what are you doing here, we're kinda busy" He says tiredly.

The guy who she assumed was Hobie just shrugs "You told me to show 'em newbies around, just gotta grab one on these and this-" They all were staring at him "Just imagine that 'm not here"

Miguel ignores him and offers Webby a hand to grab which she accepts reluctantly and waves goodbye to her short-term friends who waved back.

Once they reach the other universe Miguel readjusts his armband and looks for Webby to find her on the ground.

"Don't tell me you got sick again, I told you to take the medicine-"

But he dosent finish his sentence because Webby was glitching.

He wanted to help her up and call Lylla until she let out an excruciating scream like she's been stung by something and cradled her stomach. The pain was travelling all over her body as if she were electrocuted in the rain.

Webby doesn't know what's happening or what to feel other than the pain that surrounds her, she dosent even realize she isn't in control of her body and is slamming herself on the floornofnthe hard roof.

Miguel rushed to open a portal as her body was quickly becoming translucent.

The same type of translucent he's all too familiar with and grabs her to the portal.

She can't bare to open her eyes, her irises were stinging.

It was a bodily reaction, he wasted no time to grab her.

"That was quick-Oh God" Jess frantically calls for help

Webby thinks breathing slowly stabilizes because her body isn't burning , but not relaxing.

"Get the medic, now" Webby thinks the scary bear yells something.

Her eyes close, and finally, her body stops hurting when a mask is placed over her head as the coloured lights she thinks she sees now dissappear as her consciousness.

-

"What exactly happened out there"

"I.." He rubs his temples "Don't know"

Jess looks over to Webbie's vitals as Byte observes them carefully and Malala watches her from a distance.

Jess hasn't known Webbie for a long time but the gas mask on her face irks her so she tries one more time "Miguel, what happened out there"

"She stopped glitching only when we came back but was glitching hard when she got to the other universe, but not like normal" He looks at Jess's shocked face knowing Miguel spoke from experience as he continued his sentence.

"It was like her body was collapsing into herself"

HI AUTHOR HERE, this isn't my first fanfic but I haven't really written in this type of format (Also I'm bilingual so my English might be not epic) so it might be wonkey (I write mostly self-loathing type of things) I might or might now make this whole thing int a mini series of 6 chapters. ALSO I JUST GOT A JOB?! So if I do make it into a miniseries plz be patient because the 10 hour shift is no joke

[toska-writes]

“Random Clone Headcannons p.1”

These I made instead of working on my WIP for some reason but I have no regrets!

My ideas here are all over the place but please enjoy!

If you see any you like and such I’m planning to turn a few of these into full length writings so let me know!

Clones x reader pairing! (Platonic!)

• You cant tell me that if You had longer hair that so many Vodes would keep hair ties on their wrists for you

• Wolffe is the reason you have a deadly eye roll and amazing smart comments

• I feel like if you gained his. Trust you and Crosshair would be deadly on the battlefield- like he’d do the thing where he’d steady his riffle on your shoulder

• Jesse and Hardcase would beg you to show them some moves with your lightsaber, and honestly they aren’t terrible

• Braiding Tup and/or Hunters hair for fun. That’s it just think about it.

• You absolutely begged Rex if you could help to bleach his hair- finally giving in and needing a touch up he agrees to let you help. You don’t know how it’s happened but bleach is literally everywhere

• You and a few others were so excited to help the Wolfpack paint the “Plo’s Bro’s” and were so proud to stand next to Wolffe as you showed Master Plo for the first time

• Lake days with the 501st- just imagine. This I think will be my next WIP

• To say that you weren’t the best wingman for your brothers was an understatement you were amazing- Hardcase wouldn’t be anywhere without you. Playing match maker is so fun for the Clones and seeing them embarrassed is even better

• Rex can sleep anywhere. You’ve found him in so many different places just slumped. It’s become a tradition now that if you see him you’ll curl up by his side and get some rest and vice-versa (cause if Rex falls asleep you know you should be too)

• In your defense how could you not take those loth kittens back to Coruscant with you? Fox was a wonderful babysitter as you figured out where they could go

• You introduced wrecker to markers and now you take turns coloring small doodles on each others arms. Wreckers gotten pretty good over the last few times, and it’s alway fun to see the huge clone in training with a sleeve of colorful doodles

• You, Boil, and Sinker have always talked about taking you to get your first tattoo and you couldn’t agree more- Wolffe has to be the mom and shut it down pretty fast but one day soon it will happen

• Tech will teach you all these strategies to different games knowing at when you keep practicing he’ll have some good competition

• He has regretted this decision ever since you beat him once and his brothers and yourself hang it over his head all the time

• Delta Squad loves having joint mission with you and your battalion- Scorch can count on something interesting going down and Boss gets more gray hairs by the second in all the situations he has to get his squad out of

• So so so many nicknames it’s insane. They vary from who it is with Cody and Wolffes battalion keeps it sweet and simple with kid, vod’ika and Cyare where as groups like the 501st, Delta Squad and the Corries have unusual and creative names like Scrappy, shorty, and others

• Cold nights and everyone’s having a huge sleepover in the barracks- sneaking in and never sleeping more soundly then you have before

Hmm guess I could go back to my WIP but if you want a Part. 2 I’d be happy to make one!

—————————————————————

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza

[ddarker-dreams]

Those Who Live by the Sword.

Yan Claude von Riegan x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 3k.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must test the boundaries of what they can and cannot get away with. 

This has been your personal creed as of late. Though you now fight under the Leicester Alliance’s banner, the lack of a shared history with your fellow alma mater is tangible. It isn’t intentional on behalf of your comrades-in-arms, not that you can tell, but an inadvertent consequence of joining the ranks when you did. 

The time in between battles and skirmishes stretches on seemingly forever. You adhere to a mundane routine: training, ensuring the integrity of your equipment, and wandering aimlessly like some specter in the night. No one troubles you and you trouble no one. You may share the same ambition, meager war rations, and thin tents that can barely keep the night’s chill at bay, yet your common ground ends there. 

You thought this would be enough. Perhaps it will be, if you keep trying, so that’s what you’ve resolved yourself to do. 

Sparks fly off the whetstone as you manipulate a chipped blade against it. You repeat the motion without reprieve, your muscles crying out their protests and your body heavier than the rock this stone was chiseled from. Raising the sword by the hilt, you inspect the fruits of your labor, then frown. A weapon incapable of striking down the enemy is as useless as it is potentially deadly for the wielder. And so you carry on your thankless task, seeing to the repair once more.

There’s a change in the breeze. A slight course correction that some may chalk up to nature’s design; inconsequential, unworthy of granting a second thought. 

The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Firmly, you anchor yourself to the foreign soil, finding that it swallows your boot’s heels rather than spitting it back out. This wouldn’t be an ideal landscape to fight on. That’s why Claude chose to establish camp with this mire acting as a perimeter, deterring potential ambushes and conflicts without a drop of blood being spilled. It’s also why you ventured off here beneath the moon’s looming presence, not wanting to wake your fellow soldiers who often must go days without rest. If there’s anyone who deserves uninterrupted sleep, it’s them, and you eventually, when your goal has been achieved. 

Unblinkingly, you study the thickets where you sense a presence to be staring back. 

You hold your breath and consider your options. Vantage points, escape paths, where the terrain may prove a boon or a bane— 

“Nothing dampens your senses, hm?” A feminine voice that rings familiar asks. From the verdure emerges a lone figure, whose once sky-colored hair is now a frosty mint. Your posture relaxes. 

“Not if I want to live, no.” 

She advances forward. Her eyes go from you to the whetstone, indiscernible in their intent. 

“While being proactive is admirable, it isn’t a good idea to go off by yourself in hostile territory.” 

Byleth no longer officially holds the title of professor, though she still acts the part. It’s never felt unwelcome, this inclination of hers to guide those under her command, but you’re no longer a child worrying over her next grade. You’re a cog in the machine of war. Those who steer said machine needn’t worry themselves with the specifics, so long as you can keep playing your part. 

Yet for some reason, Byleth has often sought you out when you’re certain there are other, more pressing matters to attend to. 

She jerks her head in the direction of the camp. “Let’s head back.” 

You wipe the sweat accumulating on your brow. 

“I’ll be right behind you. This shouldn’t take much longer.” 

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t appear convinced. 

“... You’re upset,” she reasons. The two words come out slow, cautious. Not caring for the pitying gaze that’s being directed toward you, you return to your previous task. “I get why. Still, Claude never issues orders without reason, you know that. He sees what we don’t even know to look for.” 

Byleth has undergone a metamorphosis since she first walked the cobblestone avenues of the monastery, distant from everyone and everything. Her perception extends far past the battlefield. In many ways, Claude served as a sharpening stone for her, allowing qualities that had rusted over to shine through. 

“I know.” 

“Do you?” She challenges. Her voice slices clean through the air, though it’s not without tenderness. “Lately, you’ve been looking to prove yourself, right? It isn’t worth overexerting yourself.” 

You gulp down the rest of what’s in your waterskin. “I’m not ‘overexerting myself’, I’m just trying to do my part.” 

You glance down at the offending sword that dragged you into this conversation. The condition has greatly improved since when you started. It’s your hope that the owner will live longer thanks to your handiwork. The thought makes your mouth go dry, as if you hadn’t just been chugging water. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” You murmur. In the distance, an owl warbles its song. “We need every fighting body we can get, we’re even outsourcing to mercenaries. What reason does he have for taking me off the battlefield ‘indefinitely’?” 

Byleth places her hand on your shoulder. It weighs on you heavily. “There’s no one who knows how to use what’s at their disposal better than Claude. You’ve placed your trust in him before, don’t take it back now.”

“I’m not,” you respond, a hint too fast, like you were retracting your hand after almost being burnt. “I trust him, really, I do, but— I don’t know. First, it was removing me from the vanguard, then putting me in the safest part of the formation, and now this? I’ve become just another mouth to feed. A burden.” 

Whether you intended to say this much, you don’t know, but it all comes tumbling out regardless. The fatigue, stress, and confusion have been building and building to a boiling point. It was only a matter of time before you’d get scalded. 

Dead silence occupies the air, thick and potent. Neither wind nor animal stirs. You have company, and still, you’ve never felt more alone.  

Eventually, Byleth gives your shoulders a squeeze. You think she intends to reassure you. “There is a reason. It’s an important one, too.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Momentarily, the composed countenance Byleth usually maintains cracks, showing an emotion you can’t quite identify. 

In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“I think we both know that isn’t a question for me.” 

-

As per Byleth’s request, you’ve allowed Claude to be the sole holder of your trust. 

She didn’t need to convince you with lofty words and promises. The respect she’s accumulated from you sufficed. You convinced yourself that even if you felt like a deadweight, so long as the golden banner advanced, you’d swallow down your pride and accept Claude’s decision. 

This personal covenant found itself tested within a few weeks. 

The tides of war are a finicky thing. Momentum can be with your cause, almost to the point you’re convinced some divine power is on your side, then it all comes to a screeching halt. One stalemate and one loss — that will be what a historian one day will write in this bloody chapter of Fódlan’s history. 

The groans of the wounded and silence left in the place of those who perished form a haunting symphony.  

You find yourself in the tent Claude occupies. Understandably, he’s been busy as of late, unable to hold an audience with you. Bypassing common courtesy felt like the only way to get through to him, even if this is a breach of privacy. Any other ruler could have you sentenced for life if you tried pulling this stunt, but sticking to strict tradition has never been Claude’s philosophy. You’re confident the scaffold doesn’t await. 

While awaiting his return, your eyes take to wandering. To the left stands a cot, a bow, and various quivers beside it in case of a surprise attack. In the middle is a crudely outfitted table, a map of Fódlan the centerpiece, scribbled with notes that are updated every time a scout comes back. His personal belongings are few and far between. 

There is a single thing that catches your attention. A leaf that doesn’t match the flora of this area — one species found in Garreg Mach Monastery and nowhere else. You know this item well, for you’re the one who gave it to him, five years prior. On the eve of the White Heron Cup, you’d pressed leaves and gave them to your fellow students, regardless of class affiliation. You wanted to ‘preserve your bonds’, or whatever the naive dream was. 

Considering the current state of the country, it’d seem your wishes fell on deaf ears. 

He kept something silly like this for so long…? 

“Are you here to assassinate me, by any chance?” 

You almost jump out of your skin at the abrupt appearance of Claude. The man you’ve been seeking out all this time certainly knows how to make an entrance. The world itself takes a secondary role when he enters, fading away into an unidentifiable blur. His presence commands attention without him doing anything. There’s this magnetic aura surrounding Claude, a quiet brilliance, dazzling as a crystal. 

“Of course not,” you reply. It’s terribly tempting to fall into a trap of lighthearted banter when he’s around, so you must remain vigilant. “I was only hoping to take a few minutes of your time.” 

He frowns and visibly deflates. “There isn’t any requirement saying you have to speak so formally with me. You didn’t used to.” 

“Wouldn’t you say that times have changed?” 

“Times have changed, yes,” Claude relents. The twinkle in his eye tells you he’s far from finished. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I’ve always appreciated your candid nature, it’s refreshing. Even more so when you enter the convoluted world of politics like I have.” 

“I think breaking into your tent is rather candid.” 

“That it is. So,” he pulls out a rickety chair and sits, his posture open. “Let me guess. You’re here to challenge my order for you to remain off the frontlines?” 

It’s always amazed you how he goes from beating around the bush to addressing a point directly. In every discussion, whether it be subtly or overtly, he finds a way to take the reins. His boldness temporarily takes you aback. You prepared an opening statement that’d help ease into your dissent, but that slips your mind like sand through your fingers. 

“I don’t want to question your judgment. It’s just… I think I’d be better utilized out on the field. I came here to help, to fight.” 

“For me, correct?” 

You pause, gauging if he’s joking or not. It’s difficult to tell. 

“I suppose that’s a way of putting it?” 

Claude leans back in his chair and folds his legs. “You did your fair share of snooping around on me back then and even now. That assassin jibe really was a potential theory of mine at one point. I wasn’t sure what to make of you. Coming from me, that’s quite the compliment.” 

He steeples his fingers. 

“The solution was so simple that I hadn’t considered it. Maybe you weren’t aware of it yourself, maybe you were. You found me intriguing, to the point you’d be willing to leave your country of birth behind. This level of dedication, when we’d hardly exchanged words back in our academy days… let’s just say it endeared you to me.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. 

“You shouldn’t joke around about stuff like that.” 

“I’m not joking,” he flashes a handsome smile. “Knowing how tenacious you are, I thought it’d be best to give proper context to my decision. I don’t want you in harm’s way. This is what I get for trying to delay this conversation until after the war. A tent is the furthest thing from a romantic backdrop, but… beggars can’t be choosers, hm?” 

Endeared you to me. Don’t want you in harm’s way. Romantic backdrop. 

Your legs almost go out beneath you. “W-Wait, this isn’t— it can’t be— a confession?” 

He puts his hands up as if in surrender. “Ah, you caught me. Is it all starting to make sense now?” 

You scrutinize him without trying to hide it in the least. He might be using the casual language that’s typical of him, but his physiognomy is serious. His lips ease into a closed-mouth smile, his eyes contain a certain gentleness, and the tone of his voice is unlike any you’ve heard him use before. A tempest of thoughts and emotions encircles you. It’s stupefying, this situation you’ve stumbled into, almost dreamlike. While you aren’t certain if you reciprocate in full, his charm is undeniable. 

You’re about to explain as much to him when a realization hits. 

So much emphasis has been put on this revelation that the true reason for your meeting here was almost covered, sitting elsewhere and collecting dust. 

The traps he sets are tempting indeed. 

“So that’s the reason,” you say, almost breathless, “I can’t just sit back and watch everyone else put their lives on the line, knowing I’m not doing the same, because of favoritism.” 

Claude sighs. The oil lamp sitting atop the wooden table flickers, casting shadows over his face. Green eyes take in your discontent through thick eyelashes. The undulating shadows become one with the bags forming beneath his eyes, a testimony to the relentless pursuit of his dream. The sheer exhaustion staring back at you pokes and prods at your heart. You don’t want to add to his stress, you want to help, but this isn’t something you can concede on. 

“It’s only going to get more dangerous as we advance on the capital.” 

“Which is why I—” 

“I won’t allow it, simple as that,” Claude cuts you off. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice he rarely ever uses with others. He wants this conversation over with, that much is evident. “Why do you think I kept that gift from you, hm? It always appealed to me, that optimism of yours, so willing to overlook what everyone else in this land and the ones beyond it fixates on. I’d look at it and remember I wasn’t the only one who aimed for something better.” 

You know the expression that etches itself onto his face. That’s the look of a man willing to do anything, give everything, to obtain what he wants.  

“So. You can huff, glare at me, do anything you please really, but I won’t be changing my mind. Not on this. I’d prefer not to gamble more than I care to lose, for once.” 

It’s as if a spirit possesses you. Your legs stride toward him, magma flowing hot through your veins, searing you from the inside out. He remains unwavering upon your approach, silently testing to see what it is you may do next. You grasp at his collar with hands that are calloused from a lifetime of training. Your height overtakes his while he remains sitting, and yet, you feel he’s the one looking down on you from an unreachable podium. 

“And what about what I want?” 

“You should want to live.” 

“I want to fight.” 

“There are more ways to help than shedding blood.” 

“Are we at a point where that’s true?” 

“We will be,” Claude places the palm of his hand over your clenched fist. “Is it so bad that I want to keep you safe?” 

The expression you regard him with speaks louder than words. 

“Alright, alright, I expected as much. You aren’t one to be convinced by words alone, which is truly a shame, because talking is my whole thing… that leaves taking action then. Are you going to let this play out without raising a fuss, or am I going to have to get creative here?” 

This enigmatic phrasing does not sit well with you. He could already foresee that you weren’t planning on hanging back now that you know the true reason for his command, further narrowing your options of retaliation. It isn’t like he’d be in a position to do anything if you were out on the field, his attention would be forced elsewhere. 

Claude’s serious about this. He’d truly have you twiddling your thumbs and wallowing in idleness while you watch faces leave that you might never see again. 

You try retracting your hand. He doesn’t let you. 

“What exactly does ‘get creative’ mean?” 

“Well, since you asked,” he closes his eyes and hums, as if in deep thought, “Posting guards to keep an eye on you, physically restricting your movements, or even sending you back to the monastery with an escort. There are plenty of options, really.” 

Eyes narrowing, you dare to call his bluff. “You can’t spare the manpower it’d take to escort me back.” 

“Ah, I think you’re mixing the phrases ‘can’t’ and ‘would prefer not to’. Trust me — I’d love to keep you close to keep a better eye on you — but we can’t always get what we want. If I think you’re preparing to pull a stunt that’d put your life in danger, I’ll act accordingly. That’s a promise.” 

It isn’t often you’re faced with such an immovable force. His relaxed posture belies his serious intent, the discordance is further unsettling you. 

Then you’re struck with an epiphany. 

“If you won’t listen to me, you’ll listen to the Professor, right?” If there’s a hint of haughtiness to your tone, no one can blame you. “There’s no way she won’t think you’re overstepping your boundaries by acting like this.” 

Your threat doesn’t phase him in the least. If anything, there’s a hint of amusement on his visage, as if you told him a joke in good fun. He has the decency not to laugh, but from the crinkling of the skin beneath his eyes, he might as well be. 

“You’re more than welcome to try. I should warn you, though…” 

Hues of piercing green bore through you. 

“Half of this was her idea.” 

[kitty35]

As Pretty As A Painting

Shinmon Benimaru x Reader

Content warning!! This is for 18 years and older!! If you are a minor or ageless blog then do not proceed! Your account will be blocked.

Summary - The annual Fire Force calendar was coming up and Konro still had no clue how he was going to get a picture of the captain. That is, till an idea came to his head.

Type - Mostly fluff but it's majorly hinted at/referenced to sex but nothing specifically said

Requests are open :)

“(Y/n)!” I heard Konro scream while bursting into my room. A startled scream left my lips as I accidentally threw a knitting needle at him. As quickly as he could, he dogged and watched as the piece of metal embedded itself into the wall behind him. He placed his hand over his heart, now just as startled as I was.

“Don’t scare me when I’m knitting!” I quickly yelled.

“I’m sorry!” He slightly bowed before grabbing the needle and handing it over to me. “But this is urgent.” My eyebrow raised as I took the tool from his hand. Looking down a little, I saw the camera he held. “The Fire Force calendar is almost here and I don’t have any photos. I couldn’t get any last year cause Waka stopped me.”

“And you’re coming to me because…?”

“You two are dating so you can get a good picture of him!” My cheeks turned bright red.

“Konro, you know we aren’t dating! Besides, even if we were, I doubt he would let me take a picture like that.”

“You have to try! This world needs a strong leader! Someone who can win them over without even trying! Someone who can show them that he can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders! I know who you thought of! Everyone needs to think of Shinmon Benimaru in that same way!” My cheeks turned even darker at that last sentence. Of course I thought of Beni, how could I not? But that fact didn’t change anything.

“Lieutenant, regardless of who I thought of, it doesn’t change reality. I’m not dating Waka and I doubt he would let me take those photos of him.”

“You don’t have to ask.” My eyebrows drew together at his insistence. “All I’m asking is one good photo! I can give you anything your heart desires!” A sigh fell from my lips. He wasn’t going to stop till I agreed. So I stood and took the camera from his hands. This earned me the biggest smile I think he’s ever given. 

“I’m only doing this so you can be in debt to me incase something ever were to come up where I need your help.”

“Thank you (Y/n)! Your efforts will never be forgotten!” With a bone crushing hug, he left. Looking down to the camera in my hand, I sighed. Just how was I going to pull this off? It wasn’t like it was easy to catch someone, specifically Beni, naked. And the bathhouse was already done, I couldn’t do that again. It’d seem cheap and recycled and that wasn’t how Company 7 was about to come off as.

The more I thought about it, the more a plan came to mind. A wide smirk grew on my lips as everything began to fall into place in my mind. Konro was about to be in debt to me for life with the picture I was about to take.

“Waka!” I called out to the stoic man as he passed by. He turned to look at me, stopping his usual stroll through the town. “Come here a second! I need to ask you something!” He happily walked over without a second thought. For a second, he examined me. I wore a pretty kimono. The length and colors suited me perfectly and cinched around my waist. Not only that, but it also fell off my shoulders slightly to reveal my collarbones and a pretty large amount of my chest without it being scandalous. He thought my hair laid perfectly and that I looked pretty all dolled up.

“What’s with the outfit? Got a date?” Despite his cool composure on the outside, the thought of someone other then him taking me on a date was annoying to say the least. 

“No, not unless you’re offering.” A small weight lifted from his shoulders at my answer. “Can you help me with something? I have a project coming up and I need a live model for it. I figured I’d ask the best suited person.”

“I don’t think that’s…” He trailed off, turning his head from me. I leaned closer to him, placing a hand on his chest.

Warm.

“Please? It won’t take very long, I just need to draw your form. Fifteen minutes, tops.” Looking down at me, he sighed. That noise brought a smile to my lips, knowing he would say yes.

“Fine, but make it ten.”

“Deal!” With that, I pulled him inside. There was a whole set already with soft music playing to cover the sound the camera made when it went off. It was pretty simple, a few drapes against the walls and a small stage for him to stand on. Not only that but I also had a red piece of silk fabric that I’d use to drape over him. Sure the calendar was supposed to be nude but I knew that he wouldn’t feel comfortable being completely naked in front of me and walk out before I could get any picture. That and I don’t think I like the idea of that many people seeing him completely naked.

“Here, take your clothes off and cover yourself with this.” I handed the silk fabric to him. He just gave me a look that told me he wasn’t into this. “I need to be able to see the human body to capture the form. It’s normal! I’ve drawn hundreds of live models. Just be thankful I’m giving you this.” He let out a small noise before spinning me around.

“Don’t move.” He commanded, making my whole body jolt at the authority his voice held. I doubt my body would let me move even if I wanted to. It took a few minutes before he spoke again. “Okay, you can look.” Turning around instantly made my cheeks burn bright red. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve seen plenty of live models but this felt different. Maybe it was because of my feelings for him. 

Or maybe it was how good he looked. Every muscle was defined and sculpted like a greek god that I had only ever read books about. He was holding the fabric around his waist but I was sure he would have crossed his arms if his hands were free.

“Here, let me help with that fabric.” Once again he was hesitant but let me do as I pleased. He could feel my cold hands against his skin as I adjusted the fabric to show off a hip while still covering him completely.

I helped instruct him into a pose that showed him off without it looking awkward or anything. Carefully I sat down and picked up my sketch pad and charcoal. From where I sat I could hear the camera go off. Smiling, I knew I got the picture. So, I finished drawing him in a few minutes. It was only the general figure and flow of how he stood, no defining features or anything since he said I could only take ten minutes. Truthfully, I could sit and draw/stare at him for hours if he’d let me. How could I not? He was just that handsome.

“Okay, I’m all finished.” I spoke, setting everything down. He looked at me, having been lost in thoughts for almost this whole time. “You can get back in your normal clothes.”

“You know… I don’t really think it’s fare.” I let out a curious hum at his words, tilting my head and waiting for him to continue. “I’ve stood here for ten minutes completely naked. Don’t you think it’s fair for me to see you naked for ten minutes?” My eyes widened as I quickly became flustered.

“W-well you weren’t-weren’t actually naked!” I struggled to get out.

“Are you saying your commander is wrong? Don’t you know that’s a punishable offense?” He brought me closer to him and onto the stage, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Why don’t we make a pretty picture together?”

“O-Okay!” I squeaked out as his hands made quick work of my clothes.

A few hours later, I handed the camera over to Konro. To which he hugged me and quickly went to process the film. I went back to my day after that. At some point Konro came running back up to me with a small folder in hand.

“(Y/n)! That picture you got was perfect but I don’t think you’d want these to get out. It’d probably be a bit of annoyance since, in your words, you two aren’t dating.” He refused to look at me as he handed over the folder before running off again. Confused, I opened the folder only to shut it quicker than I have ever shut something before. My cheeks turned pink.

I guess I forgot to set the camera to one picture instead of one every few minutes. Benimaru would probably enjoy these more than I would, but I did save one or two before dropping the rest into his hands. Needless to say, while being confused as to why there were pictures of us, he did enjoy looking them over.

Company 7s photo was used for November this year.

[beelsbignaturals]

🦂DEMON FORMS: ASMODEUS 💄

AN: Unfortunately, the concept of hypnosis is a major theme for my OCD so I can't really write him as creepy as I want to. Alas, I tried. Fucked up Asmo supremacy. also I was tryna keep this sfw in terms of *spicy* content bc thats for a different post hehehe. As always, feel free to check out my obey me world building tag for more demon headcanons and since con is over I can work on requests!

Inspiration for this part: literally everyone who has ever drawn Asmo with a scorpion tail like he DESERVES also @noecoded bc they have the BEST Asmo art ever. Also @princessasmosprincess has been such a major help in writing this! ily Michi 😘 thank u for letting me pick ur brain bby

TWs: Bugs (scorpions), mind manipulation, alcohol (part 4), vauge reference to nsfw stuff (part 3), demons being demons, body horror? Maybe?

● Level 1.5. you know, in the Percy Jackson books, how Aphrodite appears as whatever you think is most beautiful? Asmo is kinda like that. Not fully, but if you are more attracted to say, dark hair, he will have darker hair. (Cute note: if you fall in love with him for realsies, this stops happening, and you just see. Him.) Like Belphie, he is alot more… mental with how he freaks people out. Even without hypnotism, if he asks you to do something, you feel like you want to agree. Only Asmo can make you think taking out the garbage when it's his turn is YOUR idea. He glows under blacklights because… scorpion. His teeth look normal from a distance, but up close, you can see how sharp they are. His eyes shift through every possible color, changing each time he blinks. His pupils are heart shaped. He gets cold really easily and will make it everyone's problem.

"MC! I'm going to freeze to death, please, save me!" The overly dramatic Avatar of Lust drapes himself across your lap, intent of using you as a personal space heater. Nights in the Devildom just get so cold! His poor, beautiful heart can't handle the subzero temperatures! And of course the last argument between Levi and Mammon managed to complete destroy the heating system. So it's your solemn duty as Asmo's favorite human (don't tell Solomon) to keep him warm!

● Level 2. His nails get longer and sharper, and even when talking, it sounds like he's singing. If he actually starts singing, you will find yourself dancing or lulled into a false sense of security depending on the song. He actually caused the dancing plague this way! He is capable of using his carapace as a sort of natural corset, controlling each segment to give himself the desired silhouette. Somehow, Asmo is wonderful at knowing exactly what you desire. Not just in a sexual way, he can figure out your ambitions after one conversation. If he decides to talk to you, everything else will kind of...fade away. How can you focus on anything when his eyes fade from pink to purple to blue... What were you talking about again?

Asmo thought the house was empty, that it was safe for him to sing without consequence. Unfortunately, you came home early, which led to the awkward incident where you began dancing the moment you walked inside. At first, you thought you were hit by some curse, screaming in surprise as your body moves on its own. Hearing your shrieks, Asmo rushes downstairs, fussing over you. Luckily, you weren't under his spell long, so when he stopped singing, you stopped dancing. He was very apologetic after that.

● Level 3. He grows several extra limbs on his sides. They are small little insect legs that are basically useless. He likes to annoy his brothers by tickling them with his weird lil bug arms. But otherwise, Asmo is EXTREMELY self conscious about them because bugs aren't stereotypically cute. He can keep his wings bc they are cute. BUT HE ALSO HAS A SCORPION TAIL. The stinger is heart-shaped. It's adorable. It also has venom capable of making you so horny you die! Which is... slightly less adorable.

It was quite the sight, seeing Asmo, shirtless with several small arachnid limbs, covered in a hard exoskeleton as he chases Satan around the house, claiming he needs to be less grumpy. Satan threw a pillow at his brother, causing you to laugh. Bad move. Now Asmo has locked his eyes on his next target. You.

● Level 4. You know how so many Greek monsters are giant creatures with the face of a beautiful woman? That's Asmo. He has the body of a scorpion-if a scorpion was the size of a horse - and face so gorgeous, you might cry or go blind. He sings so sweetly to lure in prey. Basically, he's a siren-scorpion monster from hell! He usually won't take this form because, honestly, he thinks it's ugly. So for the most part you are only going to see a scorpion with Asmo's face scuttling around if he is feeling particularly emotional. Like when he gets a little bit too tipsy and his insecurities plague his mind.

It was rare Asmo would get properly drunk. At least the type of drunk where he is miserable. Usually it's a very... drunk girl in the club bathroom who just LOOOVES your shoes and wants to know who did your eyelash extensions 🥺 sort of energy. So hearing straight up wailing from his room after a long night at the Fall was...unexpected. What was even more surprising, was what you found when you opened his door to try and comfort the demon. A large scorpion with the head of the Avatar of Lust, standing in front of a broken mirror with mascara streaming down his face. You only hesitate a moment before making your presence known. Asmo starts to cry more, sobbing about how terrible he feels having you see him like this. In the form that he considers the definition of ugly. You are quick to reassure him, naming each thing you find beautiful about his more demonic looking self. Like the way his armored body catches the light, reflecting rainbows across each segment. Or how his stinger is heart shaped. Or the fact that even without proper hands, his hair and makeup is still flawless. Aside from minor damage due to his tears. Soon enough, you have a giant scorpion sleeping on your lap like an overgrown cat. You decide not to mention it in the morning.

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 6 - Genuine (Part 2)

My brain as I was translating this: what is bro yapping about

also please don't ask me to clarify anything that happened in this chapter, i also have no idea. i'm pretty sure only the author knows 😂all i know is that they were definitely doing kyudo.

TW: suicide mention

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

A saijiki is an almanac of Japanese seasonal terms used for poetry

Asahina's name (朝日奈) contains the characters for morning sun

Adults (成人) and saints (聖人) have the same reading (seijin)

A box-like structure where rain shutters are stored when not in use

Previous | Next

Masa-san, there’s something I want to tell you.

Don’t laugh and just listen to me.

The competitors from both schools met face to face at the prefectural finals. The sky began preparations to show off its triumphant end.

Asahina and Minato faced each other.

“Looks like ‘Minahead’ worked. Thanks.”

“Please don’t make surprise attacks like you did the other day.”

“Hahaha, sorry. The protection around you was strong, so that was the best I could do.”

Eddie pushed up his hair. “We have no need for superstition anymore.”

“That’s right, partner.”

Asahina and Eddie bumped elbows. They were like children who played a secret prank on their parents.

Haneina’s coach, Tsucchi, and Masa-san faced off.

“My archers are in top form. We’re going to win.”

“I don’t know about that. Kazemai can use the wind, after all.”

“I don’t want any funny tricks. Show us what you can do.”

“Go easy on us.”

The archers from both schools entered the shajo with orange and yellow-green headbands tied around their heads.

Haneina High School had Eddie, Matsuda, Kanuma, Igarashi, and Asahina.

Kazemai High School had Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, and Minato.

They each stepped onto the shooting line and spread their legs.

The oomae of Haneina was Eddie. His golden hair fluttered in the sun. Spreading his white wings, the archangel descended upon the land of the east. The eccentric was an assumed figure, and the truth was revealed.

He objected to the strange land of Japan, where everyone wore matching outfits to find jobs. Who told them to wear black? Was it because it wouldn’t stand out even if they settled down in a graveyard? Those who prepared loyalty tests for the company would have been promoted and given a nice apartment. Ceasing to think for yourself was what politicians wanted you to do. Misguided servility made the conceited even more fattened. If you were going to dance the same dance, then dance in your own colors.

The arrow was aimed at the demon’s heart. But Eddie and Kaito hit the center.

Next was Matsuda on the second target. One day, a house party was held. The servants, who were usually unsmiling, broke out into big smiles as soon as the host appeared in the room. Before he knew it, everyone in the room had smiles pasted onto their faces. “Supporting the disabled is my purpose in life. We are very concerned about you. With this product, you can reduce your anxiety about your future,” they whispered, but the bow made no distinction between the disabled and the able-bodied. The love that asked for nothing in return was always there.

The released arrow shattered the window glass. Ryouhei followed as well.

Kanuma on the third target opened his haiku saijiki. (1) Beautiful phrases that reflected Japan’s weather, astronomy, geography, and human affairs were lined up side by side. The finely honed senses of their ancestors that resided in each phrase hadn’t faded away even now.

Words were twisted, woven, knitted, and tied together. Weaving brocade was the living wisdom and culture of creatures without fur. The clothes we wore revealed our environment and thoughts. Those who could manipulate words and know the hidden power of words could transcend the concept of time and fly to the moment at any time. Right now, Kanuma has composed a song.

Kanuma and Seiya summoned tsurune.

Brain, be deceived. Make a miracle happen.

Taking the sound of the matooto as a signal, Igarashi raised his bow. Anyone could step into his flower garden. Flowers such as bellflowers, gentians, and campanulas were preferred, and the bells rang when the wind blew. Bees and butterflies frolicked amidst the flowers, grass lizards and rainbow-colored lizards lay in the grass, and red-flanked blue tails rested on the branches. He picked the withered flowers and thinned out overcrowded foliage. A garden that took time to grow was a treasure. Igarashi applied that image to his own bow. He slept every night holding his bow, of which only one existed in this world.

As Igarashi and Nanao’s arrows flew, flowers bloomed along the path.

In the stands, Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo gasped. Since there were a lot of hits in quick succession, they braced themselves so they wouldn’t miss the chance to cheer.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful.”

“Both schools are sparkling.”

“This is exactly what ‘brilliance’ is.”

The ochi Asahina, as his name suggested, was the embodiment of the sun. (2) His red hair burned in the twilight.

Fire.

Fire knew what you had done.

It also knew the name and face of your accomplice.

If you wanted to purify yourself, go to the sea. If you wanted power, go to the mountains. Whichever path you chose, he would be a torchbearer and a guide. Heaven watched the deeds of those who lived on earth. Three children were born out of the fire. At any given time, there existed something that recorded the events on earth. Memories that were passed down became stories.

Asahina and Minato released their arrows.

For the second shot, nobody missed.

For the third short, the sound of the matooto didn’t cease.

The wind blew through the kyudojo, where conversation and even breathing were taboo.

Where was the wind going? Who was it bringing with it?

A memory of a day he spent with Masa-san flashed through Minato’s mind.

Yata Forest, where the crescent moon hang in the deep blue sky. The sound of rustling leaves sounded like the trees were welcoming them as the two walked along the white path illuminated by moonlight.

“Masa-san, there’s something I want to tell you. I had a strange experience a long time ago. I haven’t even told Seiya and Ryouhei about it. They’ll probably think I’m crazy or just laugh at me and say I was dreaming. Will you listen to me?”

“I will.”

“You won’t laugh?”

“I won’t.”

Minato took a deep breath.

“I was a bit out of it that day, and when people told me that it was Setsubun today, I was like, ‘Huh?’ It seemed like I got the date wrong by a day, and I had no memory of the day before Setsubun.”

“Hmm.”

“After scattering the beans, I slept like usual, and the next thing I knew, I was paralyzed. My arms and legs were numb, and I couldn’t move my body at all. While I was panicking, I heard three sounds. It kind of sounded like something used in an old sci-fi movie. Then, all of a sudden, a beam of light hit me from right above my head to my feet with a ker-wham. Just as I was thinking Oh crap, what do I do, I heard the three sounds again, and then I was hit on the top of my head with a wham. I still couldn’t move my body, so I was thinking about reciting the Heart Sutra when my dad woke me up. Apparently I was crying out in my sleep.”

Masa-san’s eyes widened. He burst into laughter.

“So you laughed at me after all. I’m a chuunibyou even in my dreams.”

“No, I was laughing at the onomatopoeia. I wasn’t laughing at what you said.”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“I had a similar experience. I never told anyone about it, so it’s a secret.”

Masa-san began speaking.

I’ve told you before that when I was in my third year of high school, I got target panic and my master gave up on me. I’ve also told you that in my first year in university, my father sent me a notification of my brother’s death, but actually, when I was nineteen, I got into an argument with my master. I declared that I will never forgive the person who made my brother disappear and that I will take revenge, but my master just lectured me in the usual way, saying that revenge was a foolish thing and that my anger will burn me to death. I asked him why he had been ignoring it until now, and why is it that you, my own family, didn’t understand me. I showered my master with the hateful words that should have been directed towards my father. That ended up being our final conversation.

When I was twenty, in my second year of university, my master passed away. I overcame my target panic and received invitations from several kyudo schools to join them, but I had lost sight of the significance of drawing the bow. I kept asking myself why I was drawing a bow—and then I realized it. No, I finally admitted it. I wanted to be acknowledged as an archer by my “master Yasaka,” no one else. And that will never come true.

In the spring of my third year, I completed shooting a hundred arrows, but all I felt was a sense of emptiness. My father casually sent us letters, as if he was unaware of the despair and threat he posed to us. Was it okay to just do nothing? Would I have no choice but to take these negative feelings with me to the grave?

As summer approached, I began to deeply regret the last words I spoke to my master. Every time I entered the kyudojo, my body became stiff, and I found it hard to breathe. Before I knew it, I couldn’t sleep soundly, and the doctor’s comforting words and medicine didn’t make me feel better. My mother, unable to just watch, took me to a temple in Shikoku.

The chief priest was a quiet person. He read sutras in the morning and sat in front of the Buddha at noon and night. He would visit me from time to time, and we would talk about casual everyday things before going home. During that time, I remained lying on my bed.

Several choruses of cicadas passed by. Everything that lived was covered in shame, and I longed to disappear, but I couldn’t commit suicide for the sake of the family I would be leaving behind. At night, I closed my eyes, hoping that I would never wake up again. If I could at least forget everything, I could live.

I closed my mouth in the morning and laid down on the ground during the day and night.

Sleepless days. I couldn’t escape the memories that replayed over and over again.

One night, as I was looking back on my life and regretting every detail, I heard a voice coming from the upper left corner of my head. Just a single “Good.”

The two looked at each other and smiled.

It was a strange feeling of empathy with each other.

Ah, that’s right. Someday, when the time was right, I can tell others about this day. When the truth dwells in Minato’s words.

When Masa-san finished, he grinned.

This was a secret between master and disciple.

“Good.”

“Good.”

The sixth voice was heard.

With three scales, arrows of light descended from the heavens and pierced through Minato’s body. His whole body went numb and his head became hazy.

The sounds came again.

When he decided to “come,” the arrows passed through his body and spread from the soles of his feet to the ground.

Meigen. That was the sound of the dawn.

Three sounds and arrows of light fell from the sky.

The arrows of light pierced my body.

The ultimate goal of kyudo was “the true, the good, and the beautiful.” True archery didn’t lie, deceive, or betray.

Truth in archery was proven by the brilliance of the bow, the tsurune, and hitting the target. What was true was beautiful, and what was good was also beautiful. Once you met the genuine article, you would never be confused again.

Hayake—Yips was a state in which the body became warped due to accumulated fatigue and stress, and the brain ends up malfunctioning. That was why beginners didn’t get target panic. It occurred when the brain remembered the experience of failure so strongly that it issued an emergency alert every time those memories replayed. This became a regular occurrence, and if proper treatment wasn’t taken, it would only get worse. In archery, hayake was called “target panic,” and it was an accurate description of this sickness.

The solution was to regulate one’s breathing. It was to get rid of the distortions in one’s body and allow the brain and body to rest.

There were actually very few people who could maintain a natural and comfortable posture. Regulating the autonomic nervous system and improving the functioning of the central nervous system was the key to good health. The autonomic nervous system referred to the nerves that were responsible for unconscious processes such as pulse, breathing, and digestion. The sympathetic nervous system was dominant during the day, and the parasympathetic nervous system was dominant when sleeping at night. The central nervous system were the nerves that acted like a command center, issuing commands to various parts of the body.

Anxiety and fear were a kind of self-protective instinct. Once living things experienced something scary or painful, they tried to avoid it next time. When it was overreacted to, they became stuck in the memories of the past, worried about the future, and unable to take even a step forward.

When you drove a car, you got too scared to drive if you thought about what would happen if you caused an accident. You made sure you were in good physical condition and inspected your vehicle before driving. Even so, if you caused an accident, you would have to pay for it for the rest of your life. If you were willing to accept all of that, everything else would become possible.

Cars run on gasoline or electricity, but what did the human body need to move? Oxygen. Oxygen produced heat. “Breathing” was an important way to obtain oxygen efficiently. Because modern people breathed with their chests, they were unaware that they were about to drown due to the lack of oxygen in their brains.

Let’s slowly take a deep breath.

You could see what you couldn’t see before.

You could touch what you couldn’t touch before.

The days I spent with you.

The days I will spend with you from now on.

Who should I thank for this happiness?

Right now, I’m breathing.

Blessed are the creatures that shed their fur.

They have rented lodgings on earth and eaten many lives.

Now, I offer a moment of silence.

The fourth shot began. The ten’s heartbeats grated.

Gradually, slowly, the surroundings were dyed in green, like vines were creeping around. This place, with its spreading leaves and blooming orange flowers, was just like the earth after humans have left.

Those who gathered in the Land of the Rising Sun. Kaito, who had just been born, let out a single cry. The roar that announced the joy of birth hit right in the middle of the target.

Ryouhei also raised his voice. What beautiful stars, what delightful companions. Now, let’s set off. Let’s row the boat. What kind of place would the new continent be? What kind of encounters await us?

Seiya followed suit. I knew you were worried about me. I was taking advantage of your kindness. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for getting angry.

Nanao was enjoying himself, happy, and sun—. The place I belong is where I draw my bow. I want it, I want it, I want it. But it didn’t come true. I got an abode that I should have given up sometime ago. Someone whispered to me that it’s okay to stay here, that there’s no need to leave so quickly. When he blew a whistle, the matooto resounded at the azuchi.

Minato was standing on the earth.

We are temporary residents who are renting a part of the earth.

His memory flew back to a few weeks ago, to something Saionji had said with blooming azaleas behind him.

“Narumiya-kun, please try to explain the ‘Heart Sutra’ to me.”

“Yes. The universe is emptiness. If you think something exists, it exists. If you don’t think it exists, it doesn’t exist. You can see it if you try to see it, and you can’t see it if you don’t try. It’s dyed in every color, and it’s not dyed in any color. The mind is emptiness. The mind is the body, and the body is the mind. Although they are considered different things, they used to be one and the same. The ‘box’ that is me contains all the necessary software. Now, recite the password called an incantation and open the box. The box will then start up normally.”

“That’s a bold interpretation. It’s very interesting. Continuing studying in that vein.”

“Thank you very much.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, it’s about how you feel. That is the answer of the current you. Religion was originally meant to be a guidebook to help you live a better life.”

The mind and body were the same person.

The heart was responsible for pumping blood, the stomach was responsible for digesting food, and the brain was responsible for thinking. All were functions of internal organs, and each had a role. It was just that the roles were divided, and it didn’t mean that the brain was the best and the others weren’t. Confusion arose because only the brain was viewed as special.

Humans tended to rely on vision when obtaining information, and were creatures who liked to take things apart before observing them. However, if you were too short-sighted, you would lose sight of the true essence. If you take a step back, you could see the whole thing. Man and woman, good and evil, the surface and below, real and imaginary numbers, joy and anger, sadness and healing, health and illness, life and death, meetings and partings. Dualism was just one classification method, and the classification depended on the time and situation.

The two couldn’t be separated. They were intertwined from the start.

They were one from the beginning.

A spell was a mysterious word that went beyond human comprehension. Although words could be shown to have special power, the basis for the current phenomenon couldn’t be explained. Because it was “power beyond human understanding,” it was difficult for ordinary people to understand, much less put into words. Just because you couldn’t see, hear, or quantify it doesn’t mean that it “didn’t exist.” It was only latent, not yet manifested.

A text that had been simplified by an expert in the field by only extracting the important points was, on the contrary, even more difficult for beginners to understand. Rewording the text into concrete episodes, in other words, accumulating stories, helps to deepen understanding. Stories were the perfect tool to convey something. It was hoped that someday, someone would explain it in an easy-to-understand text.

Minato and Asahina’s arrows pierced their targets.

Ten people. Forty perfect hits.

This was in the exact region of a hundred shots and a hundred hits.

Viewing this amazing scene, there was a standing ovation in the spectators’ seats.

Ren, who was watching in the stands, squeezed his hands. Seiya’s brother Gaku hugged himself.

“It looks cold. How long will this continue?”

“…I hope it doesn’t end like this.”

No winner was decided, so it became a shoot-out. Each archer released a shot, and the school with the most hits won. If it couldn’t be determined in one round, it was repeated until the ranking was decided.

The oomae had begun to raise their bows.

Roaring bows. Arrows that cut through the wind. Summoning thunderclouds, colorful dragons swam through the archery range.

Dizzingly clear paths of light bounce, dance, and splashed. Legendary creatures ran to the end without turning around or stopping. The “insect” contained in the kanji for “wind” and “rainbow” meant dragon, and although they were feared as gods in the East and monsters in the West, they weren’t influenced by human expectations. Each went their own way. Their colors and speeds were different, but they all arrived at one place—somewhere bright.

Once more, everyone hit.

The people watching the ten, who never missed, felt a thirst in their throats. What were they witnessing? Did something like this truly exist? Were they becoming witnesses to history?

Kaito, Ryouhei, Seiya, Nanao, and Minato faced the target.

The five melted into one and returned to that day. They were hearing Greensleeves.

Minato was talking to his mother in a dream.

“This song is about the moment when a disciple told their master the answer to a problem, right? I think the moment the master heard this, they smiled with joy.”

Greensleeves was a “Song of Naru.”

After completing his trials, the boy became an adult.

It was a rite of passage, an initiation.

Farewells and encounters were one and the same. On the winter solstice, the sun died and was reborn. Rather than having two sides, rather than being parallel, it was a chaotic thing that blended and mixed together. Today was like yesterday, and tomorrow was like today. Time didn’t exist there.

“Goodbye” was a magic word. It was devised from the beginning.

The sound of knocking on the door. A ringing sound.

Yearning, chasing, wishing.

Cowering, struggling, being doubted, despised.

Raging, despairing, cursing.

When you repent, mourn, accept death…

And give up.

Bow your head, love, and forgive. The door finally opens.

With a “welcome.”

Love meant forgiving yourself and others.

Could you embrace the person in front of you who you hated so much that you wanted to kill?

Those who cleared this final task were called “adults (saints)”. (3)

Admiration for the opposite sex and affection between parents and children were biological desires based on the perpetuation of descendants, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to love someone who had been kind to you. True friendship was rare and beautiful. Those who walked on the same path, master and disciple and friends. The two would be on a journey that would never end. The only difference was whether one went first or went later.

Even if one, two, three, or even four people finished, the match wasn’t decided.

The fifth, Asahina and Minato, began to raise their bows. They opened their chests wide and stretched their limbs in all directions. Two crosses emerged in the shajo dyed by the sunset. The boys flew into the sky. Migratory birds passed between the clouds, rivers meandering across the land, and cows grazing. A dragonfly rested its wings on the tip of an ear of wheat and flew away, seemingly uninterested in human activity.

A beautiful bow with a length unparalleled in the world. That was a divine implement. The sacred instrument inherited by archers chose its user. It looked for those with clear, unclouded eyes. The sun was a form of unconditional love. An existence that shined on everyone, both good or bad, without distinction. The Japanese called that star Amaterasu Oomikami.

When Minato’s arrow was sucked into its target, Asahina gently brought down his bow.

It was at that moment that Kazemai High School’s victory was decided.

Exclamations and screams arose at the long battle. The applause and cheers were deafening. In the stands, Hanazawa, Shiragiku, Seo, and Gaku were crying.

Kaito and Eddie, Ryouhei and Matsuda, Seiya and Kanuma, Nanao and Igarashi, and Minato and Asahina bumped gloves.

Asahina laughed. “That was so much fun. Let’s do it again.”

“Yeah, I had fun too.”

After they finished leaving the shajo, the first years Kanbayashi and Himuro ran up to them, and the members of Kazemai High School’s kyudo club hugged each other’s shoulders.

Minato and Kaito were screaming.

“Woooooooo!”

“Yeaaaaaah!”

“You don’t have to do your yagoe here. You’re hurting my ears,” Seiya chided them, but made no move to remove their hands from his shoulders. Ryouhei put his weight on them, causing the seven to lose their balance and collapse to the ground.

Nanao’s eyes were wet with emotion. It was not a little frustrating for him to be left out of the lineup in the preliminaries. He didn’t want to admit that he was frustrated, not wanting to show such an uncool part of himself, and unconsciously tried to keep up appearances. The other members all noticed this. They had the same feelings. Kaito, Seiya, Minato, Ryouhei, and even Himuro and Kanbayashi patted Nanao on the head. Nanao did the same thing back to them. Tommy-sensei watched the seven boys with a smile as they seemed to return to their childhood. Masa-san picked Nanao up and walked around with him. “Pick me up too!” Ryouhei badgered him.

The appearance of the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club was deeply etched into people’s memories.

After the awards ceremony, Kazemai prepared to go home. The support group that brought the cars walked ahead, followed by the club members. The championship cup was held by the president, Seiya.

The feeling of elation couldn’t be contained. The scenery they usually saw was more color saturated and lacked a sense of reality. On the stage of the finals, all five of them achieved six shots without missing. This was exactly a dream came true.

As they were leaving the kyudojo, the Kirisaki members came to congratulate them. The Young Prince’s eyes were more melancholic than usual.

Ryouhei put his arms around Kaito and Nanao’s shoulders.

“Ah, I’m still excited. I feel like running.”

“Alright, let’s run home.”

“You guys are gonna get wiped out if you do that,” Kaito said, but he couldn’t remain still either and started walking faster.

Minato, Kanbayashi, and Himuro formed the tail end of the group. After the match, they walked slowly from exhaustion.

“I’ve been inspired. I’m going to become an archer like Narumiya-senpai.”

“You’re making too much of me. I’m not even close to Masa-san or Shuu.”

“All three of you are amazing.”

Himuro nodded wordlessly.

“Kyah, I’m sorry!”

Someone appeared, interrupting Minato and the others’ conversation. A girl passing by bumped into him when he wasn’t looking, it seemed. The contents of the plastic bottle she was holding spilled onto Minato, and he wiped the liquid with his sleeve.

“Your collar got soaked. Do you want to change?”

“Some of it got into my mouth, but it seems to be just water. It’ll dry right away.”

By the time they finished loading their bags into the car, Minato felt sluggish. He felt nauseous, and his whole body was itching. When he looked at the inside of his arm, he saw that a rash had broken out.

“What’s wrong with me? I feel itchy, and kinda sick…”

“Your neck is turning red! Should I call Takehaya-senpai? He might have some medicine.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I’ll wait until we get back.”

But soon, Minato was crouching down in a corner of the parking lot. Seiya, noticing that Minato and the others were acting strange, rushed over. Minato was clutching his throat as he crouched.

“What’s wrong, Minato!?”

“…I don’t know, but I feel sick and lightheaded.”

“Could it be heatstroke? Do you have a fever? How’s your stomach?”

“It’s hard to breathe…my throat…”

His voice was raspy and his breathes came in short gasps. Nanao rubbed Minato’s back, and the other members formed a human barricade to guard him. From Seiya’s perspective, he was experiencing system symptoms such as nausea, sweating, dizziness, rashes, and shivering. What was going on?

Seiya’s brother Gaku, who had gotten into the car earlier, also ran over and put his nose on the back of Minato’s neck.

“Seiya, wait. It’s really faint, but he smells different than usual. …It’s an unpleasant smell. What is this, ginkgo fruit?”

Seiya and Ryouhei looked at each other.

“Minato’s allergic to ginkgo!”

“That’s right. A long time ago, when our families went to pick ginkgo fruits, we were shocked when Minato got a rash even though he never touched them with his bare hands.”

“But there aren’t any ginkgo fruits this time of year,” Gaku murmured. “Are these symptoms of anaphylactic shock?”

Seiya’s expression froze.

Anaphylactic shock was a condition in which an allergic reaction to food or other allergens caused a drop in blood pressure and deterioration of consciousness.

Masa-san pushed through the human barricade and went to Minato. He was lying limp in the laps of Kanbayashi and Himuro. His face was chalk white.

“Sorry about this, Minato.”

Masa-san suddenly lifted up Minato’s hakama and pushed something that looked like a thick pen into his thigh. There was a click sound. Seiya widened his eyes, and Kanbayashi blinked rapidly.

“It’s a self-injection of adrenaline. I’m allergic to wasp poison, so I carry it around with me.”

Gaku got out his phone. “Coach Takigawa, thank goodness. Don’t worry, I’ll get him to the hospital right away.”

The injection seemed to have worked, and after a while Minato was able to sit up on his own. His breathing had settled down, and it seemed that his life was no longer in danger. Minato was escorted to the hospital by the Takehaya brothers.

Afterwards, the dashcam in one of the parents’ cars parked in the parking lot showed the girl who was holding the bottle. Despite repeated appeals that the water in the bottle was suspicious, the case was shelved without much investigation, as it was assumed that Minato had just accidentally ingested food that he was allergic to.

Seiya had a pained expression on his face.

“I know someone whose hobbies include hacking into surveillance camera data and using AI to analyze internet articles. The girl from the dashcam is a Kuon devotee. We also confirmed contact between a detective and a Kuon family servant. Apparently, the detective got their hands on ginkgo fruits from a university lab. It seems like there are all sorts of people at Kuon’s house.”

“Why Minato?” Ryouhei asked.

“It’s probably jealousy. The Young Prince only has one brother disciple. No one can take Minato’s place.”

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo stamped on the ground in frustration.

“I can’t believe we can’t do anything even though we know that much.”

“It’s frustrating.”

“Yeah, I feel you. But wouldn’t it also be bad if the hacking is discovered?”

Masa-san, who had been listening silently until then, rubbed his cheek.

“We have to punish him hard for this.”

Kuon was spending the weekend at the villa.

“Has that woman’s identity been exposed? How useless. Hmm, no need to bother with a orthopedic surgeon’s son and a bunch of commoners.”

His phone rang, and the screen displayed a certain person’s name.

It was Fujiwara Shuu.

“Kuon Takumi, will you apologize to Minato?”

Perhaps it was because he was calling from somewhere far away, but there was so much noise in the background that it was hard to hear.

“What are you talking about? I’m on vacation right now. Do you mind if I ask you to refrain from calling?”

“He’s heading your way right now. I’m not going to be able to stop him.”

“He?”

Asahina and Eddie had pinpointed Kuon’s location. He was in a richly decorated mansion deep in the mountains. The heavy doors opened.

Masa-san leisurely walked from the central entrance to the front stairwell. A female servant of the mansion, suspicious of the smiling, cheerfully walking stranger, called out to him.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you a guest?”

“Hey there, young lady. I’m glad you seem to be doing well.”

“I’m afraid that I cannot let you through to the next room.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m very close to Takumi-kun.”

Masa-san smiled softly, and the servant felt cold air blowing on the back of her neck. Contrary to his words, his quiet anger was something that couldn’t be hidden no matter how hard he tried.

The woman screamed. “Takumi-sama, there’s a suspicious person here! Somebody help!”

Kuon sensed the man’s impending presence and hurried outside.

Masa-san got behind the men guarding Kuon and slammed his fist into the back of his liver. He dodged another man’s kick, and when he fell to the ground with a heavy thud, Masa-san jumped over the stair railing.

All the while, Kuon was running at full speed. His pursuer closed the distance in the blink of an eye, and Kuon, panicking, tripped on the grass and fell. Despite this, he still crawled on the ground, trying to escape, but couldn’t move forward.

Masa-san grabbed Kuon by the nape of his neck.

“Swear that you’ll never lay a finger on Kazemai’s students again.”

“O-Okay. I swear, so let me go first.”

When Masa-san loosened his grip, Kuon raised himself up and faced him directly. Immediately after, he saw the shadow of a muscular man behind Masa-san. Masa-san punched him in the face without looking back.

Kuon clutched at the soil.

“Who the hell are you!? There’s no way an ordinary person can do that!”

“I’m sure you know that I’m Kazemai’s coach. A long time ago, I learned self-defense. You don’t seem to realize what you’ve done.”

“Isn’t it just a little bit of itchiness? A long time ago, I had a classmate who got itchy after eating eggs, but it cleared up after a week. Isn’t this just a child’s adorable prank?”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve done the same thing in the past? Allergies can be life-threatening if you don’t take care of them properly. What you did was equivalent to poisoning him. Lately, I haven’t been able to control myself…whatever will I do?”

Masa-san put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket. He took out a permanent marker, and after removing the cap, he placed the tip of the pen on Kuon’s cheek.

Approximately ten seconds later, Kuon’s face was covered with the same pattern as the one on the powder container Masa-san had received from his master. Yes, depending on how you looked at it, it looked like a bikini.

The look in Kuon’s eyes changed when he saw Masa-san turn on his phone.

“No way, you’re going to take a photo?”

“A souvenir. I borrowed the pen from Kazemai’s president, and it turned out to be a very tasteful picture, if I do say so myself.”

“You lowly citizen! I’ll call Father!”

“As you requested, I’ve already called him. ‘My foolish son has wronged your friend. Please scold him on my behalf,’ he said and invited me to this villa. Now that I’ve taken some pictures, I think I’ll send them to the Kirisaki twins.”

“Father would never… S-Stop it! Doesn’t Buddhism tell you to not take revenge even when something is done to you? Your real job is being a monk, isn’t it?”

“Everyone keeps calling me a monk, monk, monk. I’m not a monk, I’m a priest!”

As Masa-san’s finger was about to slide across his phone’s screen, the wind created by a helicopter made the leaves and branches of the mountains shake. It was a tremendous amount of dust. When he looked up, the door of the low-flying aircraft opened.

Shuu jumped down. His pale eyelashes were swaying.

“Kuon, if you’re going to use the power of your family, I won’t hesitate to borrow the power of my family as well. Have you forgotten my name?”

“…Fujiwara-senpai.”

Minato also peeked out from the helicopter.

“Masa-san, stop! Don’t do anything more than that! I haven’t learned pro wrestling yet.”

“Good grief, my disciples are always too soft!”

Masa-san and Shuu stood in front of Kuon, who bowed his head in resignation.

Young leaves danced in the sky.

Members of the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club gathered at the Yata no Mori Kyudojo.

A fleeting time of overnight practice. The warm sunlight that poured down upon them made them sleepy.

“Oh, what happened to the boys?” Tommy-sensei asked Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo.

“They went to see the dormouse.”

Masa-san pressed his hand to his forehead. “They got too much power, don’t they? Let’s get started on dinner.”

“Yes.”

Minato and his friends were in the forest. They were standing in front of an old mountain hut.

Nanao pointed to the door of the hut.

“At dawn, I volunteered to go look for Miyama stag beetles. Then, I saw it there.”

“Wow, that early morning walk was all about collecting bugs? I’m glad I didn’t go,” Ryouhei said, patting his chest.

Minato asked him to let him sit on his shoulders and peered through the gaps in the tobukuro.* It was a nostalgic scene for Seiya, who was watching them from the side as he waited for his turn to sit on Ryouhei’s shoulders.

“You guys are way too big to do little kid stuff like this,” Kaito said to Seiya.

“You don’t have to look, Kaito.”

“…I guess it’s fine to take just one look.”

Keyaki and Kanbayashi were searching around for new discoveries, and Himuro was listening to the voice of the forest’s master.

The mountains were shining.

The mountains were singing.

By the time the owl woke up from its sleep, Minato and the others had dinner.

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