#. bee writes

[losver07]

writing a bit hehehe

this will all probably be changed tomorrow but for now i'm just having a bit of fun :) i think i'll have the next chapter ready for this weekend.... maybe........

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

An Honest Conversation

Summary: Sometimes your dad is also your brother who you've spent your whole life hating. Sometimes your brother is also your son who you never wanted to have. 1.1k words

Disclaimer: not demoncest!! just fathersonbrothers being fathersonbrothers.

Notes: Hi. Sorry I disappeared. This was written because I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about my relationship with my own parents. Everyone is probably incredibly ooc but that's because I wrote this as catharsis. I love my parents and I hate them and I will never forgive them but they have nothing to apologize for, you know???

“I used to hate you, you know,” Satan says. He doesn’t look up from the book he’s been pretending to read for the past half hour, just like Lucifer doesn’t look up from the paperwork he’s been halfheartedly doing.

“Really?” Lucifer’s tone is dry as he says it, more out of habit than anything else. He sets his pen down and starts organizing the stack.

“Yes, really.” There’s the heavy thump of a book on the library table and Lucifer draws his gaze away from his work to his son.

It always catches him off guard, how green Satan’s eyes are. Emerald in their shine, the perfect opposite to his own ruby. He looks so much like Lucifer and yet he doesn’t at all.

“Did you stop? In recent years?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

The conversation lulls for a bit, both of them just staring at each other. So alike in all the wrong ways, too different in others. The same and mirror opposites.

“I know you used to hate me, too,” Satan says and Lucifer sucks in a breath.

“I did not–”

“You can’t lie to me about this, big brother. Hatred is my domain.”

“It was mine first.” Lucifer can’t resist the childish taunt.

“I do it better.” Satan vollies it back, uncharacteristically merciful.

“So you think.”

“So I know.”

There’s another silence, where Lucifer avoids eye contact with him, where he can feel Satan’s eyes boring through the meat of him into his soul.

“I have never hated you, Satan. I do not think I am capable of it. Hating one of my brothers.”

He’s not lying when he says it, but Satan squints anyway.

“You certainly didn’t have any positive feelings for me.”

“No. I did not.” Satan lets out a choked noise when Lucifer says it, like he’s not surprised but still hurt. Lucifer snorts.

“It wasn’t you. It was the situation regarding you.”

“There’s a difference?” Satan has his arms crossed over his chest and he says this derisively, like Lucifer is making no sense.

“Of course there is.” He’s vehement in his assertion of this, because it is the one thing that he’s always been sure of.

He has never in his life hated his brothers. Not the five who fell with him nor the ones he left behind. He can’t find it in him. He has hated his father, because what son doesn’t hate their father in some way, but he has never hated his brothers.

They frustrate him to no end, fill him with unimaginable grief and love but if he had to choose again, he would fall every time. He would not leave them behind. He regrets many things in his life, but choosing his family has never been one of them.

“Explain it to me then.” When Lucifer meets Satan’s eyes this time there is a cold fury radiating through them. The same one he used to see when he looked in the mirror and yet completely different in its intent.

“When you were born, Lilith had just died,” he watches Satan nod, “I had been cast from my home, and I had sold my soul and my freedom to someone I had sworn never to trust. Everything that could have gone wrong had. And in a moment of grief and desperation I lashed out. Then there was you.”

Lucifer remembers it with perfect clarity. The feeling of ripping his wings out at the root, the blood rushing down his back, the wailing baby boy that manifested in the remains of his limbs. The sharp, stabbing pain of wings growing back and the feeling of nails clawing at his chest as the screams of an infant turned to those of a man.

Most of all, he remembers looking at his own rage personified and reconciling that with the gaping hole where his wrath once sat.

It is something else, to be so full of feeling in one moment and completely devoid of it in the next.

“I had never seen myself as a father. A brother, sure, even a mentor. But never a father." Lucifer laughs slightly at himself, "I had also never seen myself as the right hand to the Prince of Hell. The life I’d had planned, the dreams I’d created, all of them tumbling down in an instant and you were the proof that my whole world had changed irrevocably.”

He’s never said this out loud before, he realizes. Not to Diavolo or Barbatos or Mammon.

“You didn’t want this life. You didn’t want me.” Satan’s voice catches on the last word and Lucifer pretends not to hear it.

“No. I didn’t.”

“And now you’re stuck.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“I’ve never expected you to.”

Satan tips backwards in his chair, balancing on two legs.

“It’s not fair, though,” he says, looking at the ornate ceiling.

“To whom?”

“To either of us.”

“You shouldn’t worry about what was fair to me.”

“But I do.” Satan sounds angry, finally. An emotion that Lucifer is used to handling from him, a reaction he knows how to counter. “You’re my brother. You’re my dad. You’re me. How could I not worry about what’s fair to you when it affects me the same?”

“It’s not the job of the son to carry the sins of the father.” It’s all he has to say in the face of Satan’s sudden emotion. He’s used to his brother being angry at him. Not with him, not for him.

“And yet here we are.” Satan’s chair falls back on all four legs with a thump and his voice loses all of the rage from before, left with just tiredness.

“Here we are,” Lucifer echoes.

There’s silence, again, for a while.

Satan rests his head on the table, arms coming up to cushion his cheek. Lucifer pretends to be engrossed in remodeling plans for the city. It’s just like it always is and it isn’t at all.

“Are you happy?” Satan asks, turning so his chin is resting on his forearms instead of his cheek.

“Yes.”

“Even with everything? There’s nothing you would go back and change?”

There are many things he would go back and change. Many situations he wishes to relieve, many moments he wants to experience one more time, if only to appreciate them better. But if he were to go back and change any one thing, none of those would be Satan’s creation.

He would not choose a happier life over his son. For better or worse.

“No. If changing one thing meant losing you, I wouldn’t entertain the idea.”

Satan smiles slightly at that, ducking his head down to hide it.

“That’s enough then, I think.” Satan nods resolutely, standing up and beginning to make his way out of the library.

“Even with everything? That’s enough?” It can’t be, Lucifer thinks. There has to be something more. More resentment, more anger, more hate. It can’t be as simple as this.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

[candor-creator]

happy saturday!!

[suguwu]

unraveled

peking knows you, but you don't think you can ever know him.

pairing: peking duck (food fantasy) x f!reader

cw: pwp (kinda), yandere hints, this is writing from like 2019 so read at your own risk. iirc, this is based on his voiceline about growing tired of you. repost from an old blog.

wc: 1k

minors and ageless blogs dni.

Even now, with a sunrise smile rising pearly soft on his lips and his thumb gentle against the ridge of your cheekbone, Peking's eyes are cutting. He slips under your skin like a stiletto blade, flays you open beneath his knowing gaze.

He has eyes like the sun, gleaming golden in the light, and if you look too long—if you look too long, it makes your very bones ache. Peking speaks to you softly, kindly, but there’s something massive and echoing just beneath the sound of him, as if the fire that lives inside him has charred him hollow, burned his bones black beneath his unblemished skin. 

Your chest heaves, the soft curl of his smile hooking into the space between your ribs like brambles. Your fingers tighten against his vest. 

“Come now, Attendant,” he chides and you tilt as he nudges you, bare your throat to his silken mouth. Peking moves like water, an ever-changing current, and today he flows greedy, setting his teeth against the soft skin of your neck. “You think I tire of you? What nonsense.”

The scrape of his teeth pricks sharply through you, the first flash of lightning in a far-off summer storm. 

He palms your breast, kneads the soft flesh until you suck in a sharp breath. He thumbs at your tight, pebbled nipple, rolls it and pinches lightly. Heat pools in your cunt. He slips his hand beneath your sleep shorts, his fingertips tracing a line of fire across the tender skin of your inner thigh.

The Contract thrums as he cups you, his palm pressing tight against your cunt. The moan spills from you like wine. You’re already wet enough to soak through your underwear, the cloth clinging to your cunt as he presses up against you until your hips jolt forward, chasing the friction of his palm.

Peking chuckles softly, and it makes you think of the way his fingers curl tight around your neck some nights, how he steals your breath away with his kiss. 

Your hand drops to encircle his wrist without thinking, your hips rolling into the feel of him.

“Enough, Attendant,” Peking says sternly, and his voice is a blade wrapped in silk. You let your fingers fall away, flex them at your side. He hums a quiet approval. It darts through the Contract like starsong, makes your cunt clench. He scrapes his teeth along the ridge of your collarbone, and then the wet heat of his mouth closes around the stiff peak of your nipple. 

He pushes your underwear to the side and slides a finger into your slick cunt. You gasp out a breath, and he pushes in another finger, and then a third, until you are split wide on him. It pushes desperately close to your limits, for him to fill you so quickly, and Peking bites at your breast, gazes up at you with molten eyes. You buck, hips pushing up without thought, but Peking holds you down with no effort, keeps you pinned to the wall with just his hand on your hip. He spears deep into your cunt, rests his thumb against your clit, the touch feather light. Flickers of lightning climb up the ladder of your spine. 

“Tell me, Attendant,” Peking says, his words a humming rumble against your skin, “were you greedy for my touch even in the beginning? Did you think of my fingers buried in you in those first nights after I stepped through the flames and you bound yourself to me?”

He thrusts, drags his fingers against the fluttering walls of your cunt, and you couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to, too busy gasping for air. Peking has long known how to unravel you. 

“How easy it is,” Peking says, laying a biting kiss against the column of your throat, “to make your pretty mouth open for me.”

His thumb rolls over your clit hard, and you cry out, low and heated. You clench down on him. He quickens the pace of his fingers, drives into you with deep, fast thrusts before curling them. He fucks you until your thighs start to tremble. When you start to clamp your thighs shut around his hand, he slows until the sparks cool into embers, slows until you whine. 

“Greedy,” he chides, but he pushes deep once more, fucks you with sharp thrusts. The Contract buzzes under your skin, sends you fluttering tight around him, and he strokes at your clit until the pleasure is edged with steel, biting at your nerves. He spreads you wide around his fingers, opens you for him to remake you. Peking sweeps hard, tight circles over your clit, thrusts deep, buries his long fingers into the clutching heat of your cunt until you are a choir of moans, the sounds half-sobs. He twists his fingers within you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips.

The lightning gathering in your spine strikes ground, flashes through you as white heat, and your voice breaks on Peking’s name as you clench around his fingers, thighs trembling, your pleasure a falling star, incandescent and streaking bright under your skin. He tilts your chin up, makes you look at him as you cum on his fingers, dripping wet like summer fruit. 

A small smile curves across his lips as he watches you shake apart. His gaze is that of a dragon surveying its hoard, distant and possessive in the same breath.

“You’re always pretty like this, Attendant,” Peking murmurs, his voice slow, thick honey trailing across your heated skin. You keen quietly, your voice raw. “I could watch you unravel on my fingers all day. Perhaps one day, i’ll keep you speared open on my fingers until you can barely stand.”

His golden eyes glimmer, and in them, there is something—something ancient, something other, and even drunk with pleasure, legs coltish and quivering, you cannot help but think—oh.

He will never tire of you, you think, because Peking does not let go of what is his.

[busybeewriting]

hi!! could you please write something where reader struggles to fall asleep sometimes (a self-indulgent request from me rn) and either march or balor or whoever else you want comforts them or tries helping them fall asleep? whatever you're comfortable with 🩷

Hi!! Yes I also have so much trouble falling asleep 😔 my classes are all at like 8/9 am and i’m STRUGGLING so this is for us. 😌

Balor:

- He probably notices that you’re not as energetic as you usually are.

- First he probably thinks it’s due to a rainy day, or just because you can’t consistently run around each day and not have an off day.

- But then it’s when he sees you up well into the night, bags under your eyes that it becomes obvious.

- He’d bring you some tea and wrap a blanket around your shoulders as he sits next to you. The evening chill in the air.

- He has his own cup of tea, something his mother probably did when he was young.

- He sits with you for a while, just enjoying the silence before he’d ask you what’s wrong.

- If it’s something simple like your having trouble falling asleep he’d give you tips and tricks for when he was traveling on the road. But if it’s something more, he’ll listen and give you his best advice.

- Once he feels your weight on his arm, he sighs as he shakes his head and scoops you up. Bringing you into your house and getting you into bed.

- He wouldn’t tease you or anything until much later.

March:

- Like Balor he’d notice your lack of energy and then get upset because while he’d never admit it. He liked it. You were like a damn golden retriever sometimes with how you’d run around doing tasks for people.

- He’d confront you about it right away. Something along the lines of, “What’s wrong. You’re less energetic than usual.”

- Once you explain why you’re having trouble sleeping and go about your day…that night March knocks on your door with a pillow tucked under his arm and a serious look in his eyes.

- He’d explain to you that he’s just here to help because mistria won’t fix itself. But in reality he’s here to help anyway he can.

- He’d curl up on the floor next to you, but after your whining that he shouldn’t be there. He’d be in bed next to you and panicking about it.

- Eventually though he’d wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in. Hoping that holding you closer would help you get to sleep faster.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, and was so short! I had a crazy couple of months for me but I’m back! Let me know what you guys liked!

As always. Requests are open!!

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

❤️ x 🌒

give the not so angry dorito some comfort (*´ω｀*)

Warmth

(V4 Eclipse)

———————————————————————————

It settles inside him again as he sits in the dark of Foxy’s room, purple lights setting the walls aglow. A once unfamiliar turned more and more familiar feeling.

It seeps into his chest like oil in the tank of a car. Warm and filling in a way that sparks…something deep inside of him. Something that makes him rush to cut off the whirring rumbles that purr to life in his chest (a sound he vehemently dismissed as the sputter of some inner engine when Ballora pointed it out). Something that overrode the logical side and made him listen to other parts of himself that he rarely had before. It was as frightening as it was strangely enjoyable— this…something.

The drone of the television had long since faded to black silence. Eclipse could barely remember what had been playing on it before— some anime Monty had convinced everyone to watch for movie night— he thinks it was about exorcists but he’s not entirely sure. Jake and Andy and even Andrew had seemed to enjoy it though.

Speaking of…

Eclipse looked down as he felt a shift against him. An endo body cloaked in black curled against his lap like a cat, arms folded under their head. Tucked against his right side was the ghostly visage of Andrew— the touch of the kid’s phantom body against his felt fuzzy and barely there, like the static buzz from the screen of an old television. It was odd but not unpleasant.

Eclipse could feel it as he watched the two—technically three, actually—sleep peacefully. That warm feeling burrowed itself into his chest and spread itself over his body like a blanket soft as down. He only vaguely recalled having this feeling before in his previous lives (never in his third but there was a flicker of that something hidden somewhere in the recollection of his second and first). This life was the most he had ever felt it, though this life was also his first experience of many different things— things that before he would never have thought himself capable of experiencing.

Eclipse is broken from his train of thought by the quiet clearing of a throat. Looking up, he is greeted by Puppet’s smile. It is the kind of curled, crescent-eyed smile that he has come to associate with her more playful moods— or rather, a display of mirth typically aimed at him.

“What?” He grumbled out in a low voice.

“Nothing, Nothing.” Puppet waved her spindly hand dismissively. There was a small pause and then she continued, disregarding what she had just said, “I’ve just…never seen your rays do that before.”

Eclipse blinked slowly, brows furrowing, “Do what?”

“Spin.” She made a circular motion in the air with her finger, “Actually, I haven’t seen your rays move much at all. Sunshine’s do all the time, but not yours.”

Only then did Eclipse became acutely aware of the slow, circling motion of his rays. Quickly, he locked them back into place, “Tch, it’s not important.”

Puppet’s pinprick eyes twinkled with…something, hands cupped around her face like an enraptured child, “Come on, dude, it was kinda cool.”

Eclipse’s eyes narrowed and she raised her hands placatingly.

“Alright, alright.” She paused before a cheshire smile creeped slowly onto her plastic lips, “You’re such a softie, you know that?”

“Go fuck yourself.” He hissed, though the usual flash of annoyance was barely there now.

Puppet only laughed softly and stood from her seat in one of the smaller chairs, heading over to the door lit by Foxy’s Roxanne’s purple insignia, “We’re gonna be playing some games, maybe watching some more movies and stuff in the theater if you wanna join later.”

Eclipse grunted but didn’t say anything.

His gaze trailed back to the his kids sleeping soundly against him. Andrew shifted, curling closer— the soft, staticky feeling mingling with the strange warmth filling his chest that Eclipse was not privy to. There was a quiet click as his rays unlocked— something he didn’t acknowledge as the slow, circling motion began again. Just like he didn’t acknowledge the quiet rumbling that had started up in his chest.

“Oh, by the way– Eclipse?” He looked up to see her smile once again. But this one was different— softer around the edges, “For what it’s worth, you’re pretty good at the whole dad thing.”

———————————————————————————

[danibee33]

Halfway through a 14 hour road trip, and so, obviously, I’m plagued with thoughts of Biker!Ghost🩶

(inspired by a video I saw recently. **very gently edited)

____

• thinking of riding on the back of his motorcycle, which it took a bit of convincing on his part at first, but as soon as you got that first rush- you were hooked.

•just like he was hooked to the feel of your arms around him. he loved being able to reach a hand back to rest on your knee or thigh, and the way you cling to him a little tighter when he takes a corner faster than usual (which he totally doesn’t do on purpose)

•but on this particular ride, after a night out together, the lingering buzz of your drink made you bold- so when he relaxes, placing his hand in it’s usual spot, his warmth radiating even through your jeans and the black leather of his glove, you let your own hand wander with a devious grin you’re glad he can’t see.

•your fingers spread out over his thigh, making a soft, back and forth motion- the sensation causes his to clench around your knee.

•slowly, you readjust to lean in a bit closer, quickly finding the spot that makes his whole body tense suddenly.

•you palm at his cock through his jeans slowly, cautiously, that same grin still plastered on your face when you feel him try to adjust his position on the seat- a low hum rumbling through his chest.

•as you continue your teasing, his grip on your knee turns nearly painful as he gets harder and harder with each agonizing stroke you give him.

•he was already planning every single way he could ruin you the moment he got back to his flat.

•you could map out the perfect outline of his length now, straining against the dark denim and twitching at your touch- and you couldn’t feel it, but there’s just the smallest wet spot in his boxers stained with his precum.

•but suddenly, you pull away- wrong move.

•Ghost moves fast, reaching back blindly to wrap a big hand around your wrist, “No, no-“ he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through him, his voice growling through the helmet, “put it back, love. Don’t get shy now.”

•he does it for you, pulling you forward to place your palm right against the bulge of his cock again just as he turns his head.

•having lifted his visor, you could now see the dark gleam of his eyes glinting under the city lights, “You’ll pay for this later, baby.” He coos, giving you a sly wink before sliding the tinted visor in place again.

•Ghost gets you back to the flat in, very legal, record time, and let’s just say you do pay for your cheeky little stunt. All night long.

_____

[phoebelovingcare]

The Friend listened close as the little one that they would call the same name babbled on, pointing to their journal and giving rapid-fire tips on new words that they could not process. Regardless of their ability to understand, they cared about the little one, and so they would learn.

Carefully, as though nervous, a now-freed serf of the gardens approached. They looked right at home here in the abbey, but it was likely that they were lost.

"Doing, what are you?"

The little one looked to the Friend expectantly, likely waiting on a translation. It took them only a second to remember the words needed for this - me, see, book...

"We are reading," the Friend answered.

The poor serf looked immediately confused and bewildered. "...Ah..?"

What? It had been said in the correct language, it-

The Journalist's face went beet red.

"Disregard," they mumbled in Exile tongue, then tried again, "Reading, we are."

Having fixed the sentence structure - simple mistake, easy mistake, one they'd made a hundred times trying to figure out why "you" meant "seeking" - the serf nodded in understanding.

Then, hesitantly, as though unsure of the pronunciation, the serf repeated, "Dis...regard...?"

Their brow furrowed. How to translate...

...oh.

Yes, there was a very easy way to translate what they'd just said. A quick way to explain their mistake.

"...An idiot, I am."

"No!" the serf immediately reached forward and took the Journalist's hands, looking them in the eyes, "No, an idiot, you are not!"

They were at a loss for words.

"Hey," the little one spoke up, "What is it? I don't understand!"

This place needed their help. Speaking to the people... not something just anyone could do. Translation was hard.

And they were one of the only people who could do it.

The Journalist-Friend gave a little smile and then began to translate.

[losver07]

this is them meeting sirius btw

[candor-creator]

and so it was saturday again, and the readers rejoiced

[honeybee-bard]

WIP Wednesday

A preview of the Kinktober prompt "sacrilege" for my fellow degenerates <3

“This hardly seems like the place,” he hisses under his breath, though he makes no move to break away. “Hmm, I have to disagree,” she murmurs against his lips. “I picked this spot for a reason.” “And why might that be?” He asks, keeping his voice low. Once again she doesn’t reply, instead cutting off whatever he might be about to say with a kiss. Despite the less-than-ideal location, he allows himself to get lost in her as she drags him away from the door. He ends up with his back pressed to the smooth, cool stone of a pillar. It’s not until Tav is on her knees in front of him unbuttoning his trousers that he takes in his surroundings and realizes they’re directly beside the very shrine to Mystra he had been summoned to not even a full tenday ago. “What’s the matter?” Tav asks, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You seem tense. Should I stop?” This is ridiculous. This is foolish. This is dangerous. “...no.”

Gale so deserves to get sucked off in front of Mystra's shrine and I have long thought this.

[p---l---c]

saturday again??? no problem;;;

[birchtreecat]

Shattered hearts, Fragmented Worlds

A Live/Dreams AU that will probably never be finished after this. yall asked!!! Archive of Our Own version can be found here. Shoutout to my beta readers Ghost and Ruby :3!!!! _______________________________

Chapter 1- Aki.

She was walking home after school,  no one with her today. Kojika and Nozomi both had after-school classes, and Kichi was too far to visit. So, Aki had opted to treck the streets of eShibuya alone.  Kichi was the one who texted, offering to pop into the SEKAI as opposed to one of them walking to the other's house. Kojika and Nozomi had texted shortly after, saying they'd be there after their relative clubs and classes. Aki sent excited stickers back and texted she'd be home and able to come into the SEKAI soon. The sun was warm, the last of the summer breeze blowing gently through Aki's hair.  The streets were busy per usual, and Aki loved the routine. Seeing different- yet similar people- all live their own lives, separate yet together as the evening began filled her with an inexplicable comfort.  Upon entering her room, the air warm from her blinds being open all day, she closed her door, left a note for her parents that she'd be with friends, and pressed un

                                ti

                                                     tled…….

Cold surrounded her, a sharp contrast from the sunny, cozy air of the venue SEKAI. The triangles cleared from her view, and Aki immediately realized this wasn't the SEKAI she knew. It was the park she used to adore as a kid, familiar. The red slide, the multicolored swings on yellow framing, the chains coated with slightly soft, white plastic, her favourite spot under the fake rock that acted like a ladder to the upper part of the playground. Yet it was eerily empty. The playground was pale, looking like it had been sitting untouched for years, its paint weathered from years of rains and winds. There was none of the familiar scratches and vandalism- not even under the slide. There was no sign that anyone had ever even played on it. The paint wasn't even chipped. It was perfect, yet old all the same. The sky was grey, seeming like a storm was looming, gloomy and heavy.  There was no one there, no movement.  Not even a gentle breeze, the air almost stiff with silence. Part of Aki didn't want to shatter the silence that seemed to coat her once familiar SEKAI. To curl up, or explore the park on her own, timidly and gently. But fear- combined with her uncertainty- overpowered her quiet nostalgia. Now wasn't the time to be hidden. She had to find the others.   

She called out, ignoring the unsettling nerves that drove her heart to her throat and a pit to her stomach.

"Rin?", Her voice hitched a bit, echoing into the near-endless grey sky. But the spunky blonde didn't respond. Usually Rin would be right there, bursting with things to talk about, dragging Aki to whatever new corner she'd found.  According to the group chat and the time on her phone, the others wouldn't be here for a while. Except.. one.

"Kichi? I swear to god, I will choke you if you're playing a prank on me!" She called again, the joking threat an attempt to lighten her nerves. Her voice had a slight shake to it. She could feel the panic rising despite her familiar surroundings. She had to stay calm. Stay rational, that was what matters.  There was no answer, her voice echoing for a few seconds afterwards in the silence.  Aki shifted nervously. "Oliver…?" she cried. She climbed onto the top of the old playstructure, the footholds of the plastic rock familiar as she boosted herself to the roof on top of the slide. "Luka?" Her call became a bit worried now, pitching at the end. Her voice echoed back, and she looked around anxiously. 

"Miku?" she yelled, projecting her voice now. Her throat was getting a little pitchy and sore from her yelling. She was trying to keep her tone under control, knowing Rin would tease her if she saw how scared Aki was. She hated how quiet the world seemed, it only made her panic rise faster, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment. Flower would've been here already if she was in this strange world, so Aki opted to save her voice. Realizing she had no response from any of them, Aki sighed as she climbed down, maneuvering a bit more carefully.  It was harder to get down than it was to get up on the structure, and when she bent down to her next hold, her phone slipped out of her pocket, causing her to impulsively reach- and fall, hitting the woodchips, curling into herself in hopes of not breaking her legs. The woodchips dug into her palms, a familiar feeling, but painful all the same. Aki lifted her palms, examining them- they were slightly bloody, scuffed from the rough landing. She had to pull a few splinters, but she'd be okay. Aki reached for her phone carefully, making sure it wasn't cracked. Dusting off the dirt her phone got coated in, she sighed. She could've gotten out of this a lot sooner if she remembered to just hit pause on Untitled. Flipping her phone over, she tapped, not even unlocking her phone. But nothing happened. No triangles, no light- not even a flicker of movement or shift around her. She played and paused it, tried to skip Untitled altogether, even attempting to play her other songs. Nothing worked, and she cursed. She tried to text the group chat, but there was no signal- odd, for a world inside her phone. She put her phone in her front pocket and began to wander around the park's perimeters before seeing movement from the corner of her eye. It came from the woods, the area covered in darkness as the trees covered what little light was visible through the heavy grey clouds above her. 

"Who's there?" Her voice was strong and defensive. She moved closer, cautiously crossing the field and keeping a distance between herself and the woods.  She wasn't ready for a fight, praying whatever moved wasn't aggressive. There was a figure in the woods that surrounded the park, and she froze. Realizing they weren't moving, she tensed a bit. "I won't hurt you if you don't hurt me." The figure emerged, none other than her sister. "Aki?" Ema seemed confused, both at the world and the fact that Aki was there. Her posture was tense,yet Aki didn’t notice, simply happy she wasn’t alone, glad someone familiar was with her now. The silence was getting to her. "Ema!" Relief filled Aki's gaze, immediately relaxing from her tense position. She ran for her, expecting Ema to run back. but Ema stood still. She tackled her in a hug, but Ema seemed to tense and wiggle away from the grasp. The air seemed to become colder, the winds of the storm above them beginning to stir. 

Aki stopped, her voice hesitant now. "Ema? Is something wrong?" "Why do you never change, Aki?" Ema tilted her head, her voice unusually cool. 

Her heart dropped. Aki could feel the panic rising in her, making her body colder, making her mind race. "Wh- what do you mean, Ema? You've seen the music we make- " 

Her voice stammered, fumbling the words as they caught in her throat. 

Ema's stature stayed cold, uninviting. Aki stepped back and she stepped forward. "You know what I mean, Aki. You never changed. You're childish. Impulsive. Selfish."

The words stabbed her like a knife, twisting as her feelings suddenly shattered into pieces. She could hear things coming from the woods, getting closer. From the edge of her vision, it felt as if they were circling her- but when she turned to look, nothing was there. 

The figures finally closed around her, solid and unwavering. Aki was too panicked to see where they came from. Slowly, they took the forms of her friends- Rin, gazing at Aki with a pained look in her eyes. Kojika, her gaze hard and full of disgust. Kichi, looking away in disappointment and hurt. Nozomi, hiding herself in her cardigan whilst she stared, sadness and betrayal in her eyes. Aki backed off, trying to get away as horror filled her thoughts. Logically, they wouldn't say this. Aki knew that. She should know that. Yet, she still shrunk into herself. She wanted to believe that they wouldn't do this to her. That her panic was being irrational, that this wasn't real. But it felt too real. This was what everyone wanted to truly say, wasn't it? That she was annoying, and they only stayed because of pity for her. She spiraled, believing what they said as her loved ones clamoured around her. 

"You only talk when you want to, never when I need you to" Kichi's voice was sharp and charged with anger, biting into Aki. His glare made her look straight to Kojika, the first to have befriended Aki. 

Kojika's gaze only hardened. "I was wrong about you. Why did you do that, Aki?" Kojika's voice was full of disgust like Aki had committed something horrible. Aki didn't know what she meant. 

"What- do what, Koji- I can fix it, I'm sorry-" Aki sobbed, reaching for Kojika just as she turned away. She looked around and locked eyes with Nozomi, usually kind and quiet to her. Hope lit Aki's eyes for a moment. "N..Nozomi..?"

"... They're right, Aki. You're happy, and that's all that matters. We never did." Nozomi accused, her eyes searching Aki's gaze with pity and sadness. Nozomi's thin hair blew in the wind. If not for the situation, Aki would've thought it was pretty. Nozomi was clearly hurt by something. Did Aki do this? Did she hurt them all? What did she do? "Guys- please, I'll fix it- please, I'm sorry, what did I do?" Aki's voice was getting shrill and desperate, tears flowing down her cheeks as she watched all of her friends walk away. She debated chasing them but waited. Hesitated. She turned around, her tears stopping momentarily to see her sister behind her. Ema's gaze was cold and unbothered. Aki was vulnerable. Hopeful. Her sister would make everything better, right?

 "Your friends all agree, Aki. If you care about them, let them go."

There wasn't the usual warmth to Ema's voice. 

Aki's last hope died then and there, the words hitting like a knife to her chest. Her eyes glimmered with tears once more. "So it was my fault…" she murmured, her tears falling gently. It finally began to rain, cold and harsh on Aki's skin. The others walked away, and Aki stood in the field of the park, rain showering down on her. Minutes passed, and it felt like time had stopped.  When she was sure everyone had at least gotten far enough, she let out a scream. Loud and harrowing, almost feral. Triangles stabbed into her heart, shredding and shattering it beyond recognition. Self-blame swirled like the rain in the wind. She screamed and sobbed, shaking. The wind whirled and howled around her, as if joining in her grief. They were right. She only ever hurt people, even with her best intentions. No matter how hard she tried, she always wound up hurting everyone, didn't she? 

The rain continued pouring, and Aki solemnly began to walk back to the playground. She was too tired to be soaking wet. She had to fight the wind that seemed to push her three steps back every time she tried to take one. Finally ducking under the playground and huddling under the plastic rock, she sat and listened to the rain patter against it. watching as the woodchips around her dampened in the rain. She shivered, the cold wind making her dripping clothes feel icy on her skin. The smell of wood and rain mixed in her nose, and the thought of staying forever rooted itself in her mind. She almost gave it the time to form, to convince her. Why face reality and grow up when her childhood was here?

Why bother, when nobody would get hurt if she just let their world go?

Aki began to hiccup, trying her best to calm down and slow her breaths. It was cold, she was wet, and her anxieties were right. Yet, part of her enjoyed the sound of the rain against her ear, and she smiled at the empty, yet comforting feeling blooming inside of her. The feeling of drifting away. Solitude was unfamiliar, but it felt nice. Maybe she could stay like this, even if only for a bit. 

A voice called. Aki flinched, not expecting it. She came back to her senses, finding herself a little warmer but still dripping from the rain. She didn't move, hearing the voice call again as she shifted. Accidentally moving the woodchips in the process, she remained hidden. The voice was tense but familiar. 

Kojika. But that wasn't right. She hated Aki, didn't she? Everyone did. 

Chapter 2- Kichi

He ducked into his room with a half-eaten package of chocolate cookies, crumbs scattering on his rug and hardwood floor. Flopping into the gaming chair under his loft bed and leaning back into it, his phone buzzed with a text that Aki was heading into the SEKAI. He woke his computer up. 

Navigating to the music folder and hitting Untitled, he expected to be met with Oliver's playful grin from the branch of the Venue SEKAI's tree, or Flower's gravely voice as she chased Oliver around. Yet, when the triangles cleared, he gazed around in slight shock, almost immediately hitting pause on Untitled before hesitating as the gears clicked in his head. This was his old room, the space-themed bedsheets and wall decor hitting him with a burst of longing. He hadn't seen this room since he was five, and it took him back to simpler times. Before his mom left and before his dad was overworked beyond belief. Before Aki transferred to a different middle school, then to Miyamasuzaka Girls' Academy. Before it felt like things had fallen apart.

A voice he hadn't heard in almost 8 years called his father down for breakfast. He poked his head out of his room into the hallway. His mother stood at the end of the hall, and a wave of emotion flooded him. His mother was just as Kichi remembered- her thick, dark hair cut into a bob cut, her favorite white apron turned pink when Kichi had thrown his red blankets into the wash with it, the smell of lavender and honey gently floating from her, and her bear-themed slippers, matching the brown in her eyes. 

"Kichi! Get up, little sleepyhead, or I'll have to drag you out!! You still want to go to the zoo, right?" His mother called, not looking into the hallway. Her voice was warm and teasing, something Kichi hadn't heard since he was 7. By god did he miss how comforting it was to him.

He looked at the chalkboard calendar on his door. July 18th, 2015.  His mom had circled the day with a playful drawing of a pudgy, round giraffe. He remembered this- it was the day he got lost at the zoo. The day his mom left. The realization sent a jab of sadness through him.

Kichi sucked in his breath. He had been avoiding this memory for god knows how long, shoving it deep into the back of his mind. There were too many questions that came with her leave, and he had given up on trying to find answers to them long ago. Seeing his mother before him felt so surreal, as if it were a dream. Wait- is this a dream?

He slipped back into his room, shutting his door gently. He was definitely still himself as far as he was aware. He was still tall and felt like he could accidentally stomp down the entire room if he wasn't careful. He still had his school uniform on, and it was definitely the Kamiyama High uniform. Still.. he gave it a shot. Wake up, Kichi. Cmon, Dad's probably made salmon..

No shock awake. He pinched himself, and felt it. He pulled his phone out, and his lockscreen told him it was still 2023- he still had his photos with Oliver and the other Vocaloid in the Venue SEKAI, photos of when Live/Dreams formed earlier in their fall semester. So I haven't traveled back in time. Otherwise, my photos wouldn't be here..

  So what exactly is going on?

He slipped back into his room for a moment, letting himself breathe in the scent of his old room. The little white bedframe still had his old moon lamp balanced on top of the post above his pillow, bathing the room in a cozy, gentle white light. It couldn't be memory, and Kichi figured it couldn't be a dream from the way he could still feel and notice every little detail. He didn't know how his mother or father would react to his grown-self if he was only 6 or 7 in this.. universe? World? He couldn't tell. He tried to text his friends, but he was met with no signal. If he could find Oliver or even Miku, maybe he'd be able to find the others. He knew he could always just pause untitled. Yet, part of him hesitated to do that. This was the last time he had seen his mom. Aki will be okay to wait for me a while longer.. right? 

He finally left his room. Walking down the hall into the kitchen with the tiny dining table and a seat much too small for him now, Kichi faced his mother. 

He gazed into a near identical copy of his own eyes, his mother's crows feet evident around her eyes. 

She didn't miss a beat, kissing him on the cheek before telling him to sit. 

"Kichi, it looks like you've seen a ghost!" His mother teased, light and affectionate. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He sat in shock before hesitantly stammering. 

"M-mom?" Kichi's mind whirled. Why wasn't she surprised? Shouldn't she be scared, or worried? Why hadn't she reacted to him? He was so much older than he was when this day took place. 

"Kichi? Are you okay?" His mother put her hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes with geneuine concern. 

"I.. you.. you left.. Why aren't you shocked, or worried or something-" Kichi let his feelings out, trying to keep his voice from yelling, his fists from shaking something. His voice hitched. 

"Kichi, what are you talking about?" His mother's voice was warm. So warm. Can I just stay like this? he wondered. Aki.. Rin would be with you… You'll be okay if I stay here for a bit..

And with that, Kichi let himself lay on his mother for the first time since he was 7. His dad was here, too. The monsters of his current life melted away, like they were on the run from the warmth his parents being together brought him. Was it real? He didn't know. If it was, he wouldn't mind living like this. The others would be okay on their own. And with that, Kichi let himself feel the warmth and care he had been yearning for. The real world could wait, if he could stay like this for just a bit longer.

Chapter 3- Kojika

The girl blinked away the warm yellow lights that changed her surroundings. Instead of her middle school language hall, she was now in a seemingly abandoned park. The paint of the playground was faded and worn down. Rain poured down, thunder booming in the distance. She shuddered a bit, the air cold and damp. She was under the pavilion, the steel tables miraculously shiny despite the careless state of the playground. This was arguably much worse than where she came from weather-wise, considering it was sundown and clear skies when she had been teleported to the park. Yet Kojika found herself smiling a bit in relief despite the storm swirling around her. She was okay. It wasn't real. She'd be okay. She tried untitled again, still getting nothing. Her phone still had no service either. She couldn't shake the feeling something- or someone- was also here. She walked around the pavilion, not wanting to get soaked unless she had to. She heard a hiccup, quiet yet pitchy, coming from the worn-down playground, followed by a few woodchips getting kicked out from under the plastic rock. 

"Hello~? Is anyone there?" she called, her voice tense but loud and clear. She didn't want to scare anyone, but she was freaked out herself.

Who- or whats- here with me?

She tried again, unsure if she was loud enough to be heard over the rain. There was no response. The rain still poured down, the ground an entire puddle at this point. Kojika sighed, ensuring her phone would be safe in her schoolbag, before making a straight bolt for it and ducking under the play structure. She almost immediately got drenched.  She stood under the flooring of the play structure, watching the rain for a moment, dripping like a wet cat.  A gentler hiccup sounded, and she jumped, hitting her head on the flooring above her. "..Aki?" Kojika asked, relief and a smile crossing her face as she rubbed her head, a small bump growing already. "Good god, I thought I'd never find you guys. Are 'Chi or Nozo with you?" Kojika asked eagerly, reaching out.  Aki curled away. 

"D.. don't you hate me..?" Her voice was quiet. Barely audible against the rain. Kojika almost thought Aki didn’t say anything, still weary of what just happened to her before finding the park. She didn't know what had happened, but it had evidently left the younger girl shaken. She gently shuffled over to Aki, kneeling as close as she could with Aki under the plastic rock. Kojika put her hand on Aki’s lowered head between her half-up buns, in an attempt to comfort her whilst keeping her distance. 

Kojika and Aki stayed like that for a moment, listening to the rain as it kept pouring, both of them now having the only dry spot in the park.  “… I don’t know what you went through, or what you saw, Aki. I don’t even know what’s going on now.. but if it’s anything like what I just went through.." Kojika's voice was gentle, going quiet as the memories of what she'd seen before finding Aki flooded her. 

The way her old friends ignored her so suddenly. The way she had fought for them, time and time again, only to be met with a cold shoulder. The warmth leaving the group, leaving her to watch when her favourite people pretended she didn't exist anymore. 

But now wasn't the time to think about that. She couldn't think about them, now, otherwise she'd be a wreck once again. 

".. I'm here for you, okay..?" she finished. Almost a murmur, as she felt her heart drop. Part of Kojika wanted to run. To get far away, and never contact the others again. She knew she had an issue with leaving people in the dust. The guilt would consume her for a few weeks, and she'd move on, burning any memory of those she had gotten close with in the process. 

But Live/Dreams was different. They always had been. She can't do that to them.

Aki lifted her head, her eyes uncertain and fearful.  Kojika smiled softly, before getting out from under the plastic rock and reaching out her hand to help Aki up. The rain slowed down, and Aki gently took Kojika's hand, wiping the last of her tears off on her pantlegs before getting up. Kojika didn't run into the rain this time, opting to gently lead them to the pavilion she had first found herself in whilst the storm slowed to a gentle drizzle. Using her backpack to cover them once again, Kojika simply gently took Aki's hand, ensuring she wouldn't lose her on the way to the pavilion. With how weird things have been, she wouldn't be surprised if they got separated in some way if they didn't hold hands. Kojika sat down on one of the steel tables, watching Aki take a seat next to her on one of the attached benches. She noticed the rain had nearly entirely stopped. Aki sniffled. Kojika could tell by the way she was tensed and avoidant that Aki wanted to leave as soon as possible. 

She's going to leave me, isn't she? The thought hit like a bullet. It was never easy to forget them even when Kojika tried to. She had to constantly remind herself as she comforted Aki. She won't leave. She doesn't know. She cares about you even if it might all be an act. She's not going to leave you. The band won't leave you. At least not until they graduate.They won't leaveThey won't leave.

they have to move on one day.

"Hey, Aki? You haven't seen a way out of here, have you?" Kojika asked, her voice gentle and with her usual, light and casual tone. She actively tried to ignore what she- and Aki- had been through. Seems like they'd both had some tough shit tonight. 

Aki snapped out of her distant gaze, jumping a bit before shaking her head. "Ah- uhm. I haven't found a way out, yet. It feels like I just got here.. how about you? I didn't see you earlier." Her voice was tired. A hint of hesitation crossed her when she asked about Kojika, causing her mind to be flooded again with what happened before.

Nobody actually liked you

You're just forgettable.

You're stupid, thinking we were your friends.

We never wanted you here.

"Actually- there was a glow, different from the rest of what was around me. It looked like one of the triangles we see when we pop in usually?" Kojika thought for a moment after snapping herself out of the quickly moving thought train, brushing it off and praying Aki didn't notice.  "I didn't see any of the vocaloids, but when I went to touch it, I wound up here." Her voice was casual, hoping to whatever Vocaloid god made this sekai that Aki wouldn't press for more. She didn't want to go in-depth, the trauma still relatively fresh on her mind. Best as she tried to hide it, Kojika was still very emotionally shaky from the whole ordeal. Coherent thoughts and a clear mind one moment, the next fighting the urge to ask if Aki truly wanted to be her friend, or if it was all just some game to her. Aki's Aki for fucks sake. She'd never hurt me on purpose. Kojika got lost as she mulled over what else she might've done to get her out of the area. Aki got up and began to wander the pavilion, before pausing at a little triangle floating on the edge of the pavilion. It was green and had an ominous feel to it.

 "Uhm. Kojika? Was this there before?" she asked hesitantly. Her voice was still quiet, and she had to clear her throat to snap Kojika out of her thoughts. Jumping a bit before looking in Aki's direction, Kojika hopped off the table and stood beside Aki. The triangle gently floated, unmoving. She felt her heart tug, a deep longing striking her as if she was chasing something she'd never had in the first place. 

"Was it like this with me, Koji..?" Aki's voice was quiet, her hand on her chest. Aki had been quiet this entire time- a stark contrast from their usual combined chaos and yelling. 

Kojika thought. "Kind of. Yours was sharper and stronger. More.. more desperate. This one feels.. dark, though. Consuming almost." Her tone was thoughtful, and she glanced at Aki reassuringly despite her own nerves. "We'll be okay. If anything, we'll probably find Nozomi or Kichi after.."

Aki nodded, noticeably still shaken. 

Kojika wondered briefly if they should leave without the others.

They'd leave you behind if you didn't find them first

You're only there because you forced them to let you in the band.

You're just clingy and dense.

She shook herself out of her head. They deserve to get out of here, too. They wouldn't leave me behind… They're not like them…. right?

Chapter 4- Nozomi

Nozomi was the last to enter the sekai, archery club taking longer than usual.  She was already slightly worried with nobody answering her texts after they entered it. Aki and Kichi went in around the same time, so she was sure they'd be okay. Kojika, on the other hand, went in alone. Sure, the Venue SEKAI was relatively small and hard to get lost in as long as they stayed behind the courtyard walls, but Nozomi still worried. She knew Kojika liked to explore. Surely she wasn't lost, right? Even then, she would've hit untitled to get back to the real world..  She rubbed the edge of her cardigan sleeve as she opened the door to her aunt's house. She had homework and wasn't even sure if the rest of Live/Dreams were still in the SEKAI, but hit play to Untitled anyway. Just in case. She'd be quick, right?

The familiar triangles faded. She found herself in the presumed green room of the Venue SEKAI- but things were different. Aki's computer and the discs for her voicebank collection weren't there. Nozomi's spare Omnichord carrying case wasn't in the room, either- and neither was Kichi's collection of instruments, or Kojika's favourite microphone stand. It seemed more set up for a dance show, with old pointe shoes and worn toe-guards scattered around the room. A fresh pair of frilled shoes sat before her, as well as a brand-new leotard and tutu set. The shoes were a light sage green and white, the ribbons somehow perfectly cut to her liking. She hadn't danced in years, and yet… could she remember her old routines? The way she leaped and twirled without losing her balance on the very tips of her feet, how she felt like a bird when she practiced alone on a stage. No one to criticize every minuscule thing she did wrong, every misstep or stumble she had. Could she feel like that again?

She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in her appearance. Her hair wasn't in a fancy bun or braid as she'd often done as a child, but she still smiled as she took the costume in. The green complimented her brown hair and sage-green eyes that shined the way they used to under the spotlight. A familiar feeling spread through her- the rush of anticipation before stepping out on stage. She reached for the green room's handle and peeked beyond the door. Instead of finding the familiar cozy, worn-down stage of the Venue SEKAI, Nozomi faced a giant stage and amphitheater. Her last venue. It was something she'd buried deep down, the memory hitting her like a truck now as tears jumped to her eyes. She scanned the empty rows of seats before her eyes, tickets to each on every other armrest. Nobody was there. Not even her parents. And so, with no one to see her, she took a breath and began the memory of her final dance. Her tutu bounced, she leaped and stretched and twirled to an imaginary music track that ran in her mind. It was perfect- like she had never stopped dancing all those years ago. She let her tears flow freely. Nostalgia and yearning mixed with the salty water that dripped onto the stage, splattering as the dance flicked the tears from her cheeks. She felt like she was floating across the stage, leaping higher as the violin and piano built midway through, her gait and posture perfect. Standing on pointe as if she'd never stopped, as if her feet had never spread out to a somewhat-normal position after years of wearing normal shoes. 

As if she were in a dream, she suddenly found herself in the wings of the stage. Her dance teacher announced the ending performance- "Final Duet." An irony, considering it was a solo dance. Her final dance. She peeked from the curtain, scanning the audience one last time. She wiped her tears, and made sure she could breathe. As she was about to close the curtan and step out, she saw one thing. There, in the very front center of the seats were her parents. She sucked her breath in. Her cue sounded.  As she lept into a pirouette, she felt the warmth of the spotlight shine on her.

And she stumbled. She fell flat on her face, her form failing her. The audience gasped, her track continuing. She picked herself up, attempting to catch up with her track before stumbling again. And again. Each time catching more murmurs from the crowd, each time feeling both parents' glares harden. The curtains closed, the song ceasing at the climax, feeling sudden and cut off. She had failed, horribly, despite practicing that routine every night.

She was perfect.

Why did she mess up so badly?

Sure, it had been three years since she danced.

But she did it so flawlessly just before. Not even ten minutes ago, she did it perfectly. She could still see where her tears had fallen onto the stage.

It felt like hours had passed by in minutes. Nozomi was the last to perform, and thus the last to enter and leave the green room. Listening to the gentle bustle of the crowd leaving, she sat until things had almost entirely quieted down. She felt numb. Useless. All the energy and happiness she had felt had dissipated, leaving her empty and cold. What good was she, if she spent all this time and still failed?

 She finally slipped into her grey cardigan, white shirt, black jeans, and ebony-green shoes once again, tears clouding her vision. It had been about 10 minutes, and she knew her parents would be angry if she waited any longer. Tying up her vans, she stepped into the back hall of the concert venue, meeting her parents halfway down. Her mother took her by the hand, her grip firm. Nozomi panicked internally, forgetting how angry her mother was. She simply followed her mother's lead into the car, too on edge to say anything. Silence crackled in the air. Nozomi almost wished her mother would do something, say something. But she didn't.

Her father was asleep already, tired from a long day of work.

Her mother kept her strict gaze on the road, her knuckles white on the wheel. The radio was shut off abruptly at a stoplight as the station took an ad break, leaving Nozomi to stew in the silence. 

Nozomi began to disassociate, getting stuck in her head as her thoughts spiraled. 

You must've not tried hard enough. If you only watched your posture. If you hadn't looked for your parents in the crowd. If you hadn't been focused on your feelings. If only.. If only.. If only…

The drive home seemed to never end. They passed her favourite restaurant, something she was anticipating. It was usually a tradition for them to celebrate her dances after every performance her parents actually attended. They passed the tree nursery, saplings leaning gently to and fro as the gardener gave them water in the early moonlight. Passed her school, the cheers for the football team audible even from the streets, chalk cannons blasting the blue and black colours of school pride. There was still at least an hour of traffic to go through. Her mother began to scold her, her voice harsh and cutting. If Nozomi cried now, her mother would get her father to join in. She couldn't go anywhere. She was trapped by what she wanted most, reminded of why she was taken to her aunt's house for good. Why her parents left her, why she wasn't allowed to visit.

She was a good-for-nothing kid.

And that's all she'll ever be.

[beezonia]

Late day 1 of @feligamifebruary - Once Upon A Time! —-

The Snake and The Dragon -

One wise and sly

One Determined and prideful

The snake had managed to weave his way into the great dragons heart, whispering sweet words of love and promises of freedom .

The dragon was not so easily swayed. Fighting against this new thing called love. She pushed forward and the snake would push her back.

It took them years to both conquer fears and foes alike. They did it together.

Falling deeper into the rabbit hole, they did fall in love.

Now underneath the beautiful blossoms the snake and dragon would watch those who came to share their tales with them.

Smiles on their faces that their story could inspire love for generations yet to come.

—-

[beezusvreeland]

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously. 

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Being back at my parents’ house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa. 

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one. 

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

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A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

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author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

[snailor-bee]

Marco x NB!Reader / SFW  / 2.1k Summary: Marco is finally going to confess to you! If only it would stop going wrong... Notes: Written for @op-xreader-zine! All the art is done by the amazing @issatheartist thank you for working with me on this! ;w;

This was it! Marco was finally going to do it. He was going to walk up to you and confess. 

He'd been crushing on you for a while now and it was time. He'd dealt with the teasing from his brothers and the nurses for far too long. Originally Marco had held himself back because he hadn't wanted to ruin what the two of you already had. 

Friends, nakama, family. 

Still, everyone had insisted that he go for it and had completely ignored his reasonings for maybe why he shouldn't—"Marco, you can't seriously use your rank as an excuse; the only person higher than you is Pops"—so that's how he found his hands sweating, wrapped around a bouquet of flowers. 

Maybe it was a bit simple but at this point, Marco figured it was better than nothing. His head felt like a jumbled mess and he hadn't really planned out how he was going to do this but he'd wing it as he went along, all Marco had to do was find you and—

So distracted by his thoughts, he bounced off someone's body made a little oof of pain. 

"Marco!" Izou's voice broke through his thoughts. "Watch where you're going. What are you doing?" 

"I, uh," he couldn't bring himself to say it. Izou was the ship's gossip and if Marco said he was looking for you in order to confess then you'd hear about it before Marco even got to you. Sweat beaded at his brow as Izou's sharp gaze took him in. Uncharacteristically, Marco knew he looked nervous. 

Which might as well have been blood in the water for a shark, when one was dealing with Izou. 

Then all at once, Izou's posture softened and he smiled. "Are those for me?? For my birthday!? Oh, you shouldn't have, these are my favorite too!" Still gushing, Izou grabbed the bouquet and Marco was too stunned to stop him. 

"A-ah, yes. I was worried you wouldn't like them, yoi," he said, going for a smile. It was a bit strained but Izou didn't seem to notice. Marco cursed himself internally. He'd been so focused on the almost-not-quite-confession, Izou's birthday had completely slipped his mind. 

"No, they're perfect ," Izou enthused happily and Marco sighed fondly, letting the anxiety of confronting you fade. He could always do it later. 

The next 'attempt' wasn't really an attempt. 

Marco had been walking down a street when his inner phoenix noticed a section of smooth rocks. Without too much thought, he reached out and snatched one up. He frequently did this; the drawers in his office were filled with random bits and bobs, shiny pieces of metal, rocks, and other random things that appealed to his phoenix half for whatever reason. Marco never mentioned it to anyone but a few of his brothers who had been around him for years had picked up on it, though they were kind enough not to point it out. 

So, without much thought, when he saw you chatting with some other shipmates, Marco ambled over and handed you the rock. "Here, for you." 

You raised a brow and looked into your palm before running your thumb over the stone's surface, feeling out the texture. 

Inside, his phoenix cooed and Marco was grateful he wasn't in his half-form. He could tell that his tails would be going wild right about now, watching your reaction.

"...Thanks," you said at last, sounding confused before you pocketed the rock and turned back to listen to the story that Ace had been in the process of telling. It didn't deter Marco at all, you had accepted it! 

Feeling thrilled somewhere deep in his bones, he barely felt the jab to his ribs. 

"Hey," Thatch whispered, "you know they aren't a bird, right?" 

Confused, Marco cocked his head. Thatch gestured at you with his chin. "They probably don't know why you just handed them a rock. Shouldn't you be doing more, uh, human courting stuff?" 

There was a few seconds of incomprehension before the meaning hit him and Marco felt like dissolving into dust and disappearing forever. He leaned over to bury his head into Thatch's shoulder to cover up the sound of his groan of pain as his brother laughed and patted his back. 

"Don't worry, you'll get them next time, birdie." 

Next time ended up being a love letter. 

Old fashioned? Maybe. But Marco was getting desperate. At least this would be crystal clear. 

He'd gone through numerous editions. The trash can in his room was overflowing with failed attempts, bunched up balls of paper scattered around his desk as he tried again and again until he finally felt he had it all down. 

Exactly what about you that made him smile, how the simple sight of you lifted his spirits and the sound of your laugh made his chest tight. He'd bared it all. 

Walking across the busy deck, the night breeze ruffling his hair, Marco was barely able to return the greetings he got as he passed by scattered groups. He'd locked eyes with you right away and once you noticed him coming, you'd said your goodbyes and were coming to meet him halfway. 

The closer and closer the two of you got, the more and more nervous Marco became. The butterflies in his stomach were making him feel like he might throw up. What if you didn't return his feelings? What if you thought the letter was lame? 

What if you went to read it right away? Oh fuck , he hadn't thought this through. He didn't want to watch your face as you read the confession, heartfelt though it may be. If you had to turn him down after he poured his heart onto the parchment, Marco really didn't know how he was going to take that. 

Saying it to your face, letting you turn him down gently without realizing the true depths of his feeling was way more appealing. 

His step faltered before a rush of heat flashed beside him. On instinct he tossed the letter into the roar of fire. Ace was likely showing off and didn't even notice the slight disturbance. 

"What was that?" you asked, finally having made your way to him. 

"Nothing," Marco said quickly. "Someone did their report so badly, so I had a bunch of corrections but thinking it over I realized I'll just have them redo it. Makes it easier, yoi." 

You laughed. "Harsh. I'd hate to be them, putting in all that work for nothing." 

Marco shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "Yeah but I'm sure they'll get over it." 

"Wow, Marco, you're not very good at this are you?" Ace asked with a snicker. Marco glared, fork paused midway to his mouth. Thatch elbowed him good-naturedly from his side. They were sitting in the galley, the shipmates talking around them creating a symphony of noise that easily hid the conversation from others. 

"Good at what, yoi?" Marco asked, placing the fork down. Thatch threw an arm around his shoulders and shook him lightly as Ace's eyes sharpened with glee. 

"Now Ace," Thatch said, mockingly sweet, "don't go teasing our resident birdbrain here. He's trying so hard, the poor thing." 

"Get off," Marco said, irritated as he pushed at Thatch until he let him go, laughing. 

"Think they've even noticed?" Ace asked thoughtfully before shoving something into his mouth and chewing loudly. 

Marco opened his mouth to answer but Thatch beat him to it. "Hopefully not, though Marco looking so pathetic has been quite amusing." Thatch batted away his hand before Marco could punch him in the ribs, the bastard. 

Grunting with annoyance, Marco looked away just in time to catch you several tables away leaning your head back with a laugh and he stared, heart suddenly in his throat. He couldn't help it, you were just so—

"Plus the whole ships been taking bets at this point," Thatch tacked on and Marco tore his gaze away from you. 

"What?!" Marco demanded as Ace hooted joyfully. Thatch shrugged, grinning all the while.

"Maybe you shouldn't look like a lovesick bird all the time and we wouldn't have to take bets on when you finally get your act together. Do not" —Thatch pointed a steak knife menacingly in Ace's direction after a garbled noise had started— "talk with your mouth full. Swallow." 

Dutifully, Ace swallowed his barely chewed food and took a second to catch his breath before barrelling on, "Whatcha got planned next, Marco? Anything good?" 

"Excuse me? All my ideas have been fine so far!" Two blank looks had his hackles raising but before he could argue more, your voice rang out. 

"Hey, Marco!" Immediately he whipped his head up and caught your eye. You waved before you arrived behind Ace, patting him on the shoulder. "I was wondering if we could spar later?" 

Quickly, he nodded back. "Yeah, that sounds great!" Embarrassingly, he heard his voice hit a slightly higher pitch, almost as if his voice had cracked. Ace and Thatch did a terrible job at stifling their giggles as Marco felt his face flush traitorously. 

"Great!" you enthused, apparently having not noticed. "See you after lunch?" 

Not trusting his voice, he nodded and you skipped away happily. Once you were far enough away, Ace and Thatch collapsed into loud laughter, Ace banging on the table as Thatch wheezed out between his laughs, "What are you Marco, twelve ?? What was that?!" 

"I hate both of you," Marco grit out between clenched teeth before shoving his half finished tray of food at Ace. "Finish this, I'm leaving, yoi." 

"Good luck on your dateeee," Ace managed to yell out before he got too far away. Marco flipped him off over his shoulder. 

"So, Marco." You looked uncharacteristically anxious as you fidgeted and looked at everything except him. Marco felt his stomach drop to the deck. What was wrong? You hadn't... noticed had you? Fuck, this was not how he wanted you to find out. 

He'd come to find you for your spar after Ace and Thatch had literally laughed him out of the galley. You'd seemed eager enough to see him before dragging him to a quiet part of the deck, mentioning you had something to say first. 

Seemingly steeling your nerves, you looked into his eyes and they burned with determination. 

"I've liked you for a really long time now. You're literally one of my best friends and more than that you make me feel like I can fly, like nothing could ever hurt me. I didn't really want to mention this and have it ruin our friendship but I can't keep it to myself anymore. Please go on a date with me!" 

Time seemed like it stood still as he gaped at you. He could see your cheeks flush, likely with embarrassment at your proclamation but he was still reeling. 

Finally, you swallowed. "And if you don't feel the same—" 

"No!" he cut in, finally finding his voice. Marco grabbed up your hands, cradling them close. "No, don't. Just, I—" He chuckled with wry amusement before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "I'm just a little shocked. I've been trying to ask you out for ages now." 

"Wait, really?" you asked, mouth dropping open. He nodded with a smile. There was a strange buzzing in his body, from his toes up to the tips of his ears. Everything felt a little fuzzy, a little warm. He wanted to run around the deck like a teenager again, grab you close and never let go, scream over the railing until he ran out of breath. So many different emotions were raging through him, he was beginning to feel dizzy from the weight of all of them. 

Deciding to just pick one, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close into his chest, breathing in your scent as he began to chuckle lowly. You joined in and soon the two of you were full-out laughing. When you separated, he brushed a hand against your cheek reverently, giddy that he was able to do so. 

"To be honest," Marco began, "I don't think I can spar right now, I feel like my knees are made of jell-o." 

You laughed again. "That's okay, I'm feeling the same. Wanna go tell Pops instead?" 

Marco ran a hand through his hair, before smiling at you. "Sure. We're about to get the teasing of a lifetime." 

You held out a hand and he took it, fingers twining together with yours like they were meant to be. 

"We may as well get started," you said back, fondness shining in your eyes and maybe, just maybe, a hint of something more.