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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 years

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the inviolable truth

two-part vidow hurt/comfort/angst extravaganza fic is complete! read it on ao3 or under the cut:

Shadow doesn’t want to admit it, but something is wrong.

Not with him, for once—actually, he’s doing great—but with Vio. Stupid, confusing Vio, who brought Shadow back to life and defied the Goddesses themselves to preserve his corporeal form. Vio, who’s been living in the same cottage as Shadow for months on the edges of Hyrule Castle Town, close enough to his colorful counterparts to perform his heroic duties but far enough to blow them off.

It had been, quite literally, a rude awakening. Shadow was nothing, just floating in the endless void—and then he was something again, staring up at Vio’s pale tear-stained face. His entire body shook as blood dripped from his hands (whose blood, Shadow still isn’t sure) and appeared to be kneeling in some kind of homemade summoning circle. The floor beneath Shadow was cold, because it wasn’t the floor at all—it was the very same dark mirror that he had once destroyed, somehow repaired.

Vio said he was sorry, but couldn’t elaborate what for. He told Shadow he could stay with him and Shadow could barely even speak. So he followed Vio home like a lost dog, and hasn’t found a good enough reason to move out since.

They have separate rooms, of course, but a cozy little den and eat-in kitchen, where Shadow is still in the process of learning how to cook. In his previous forms he never needed food or drinks, only consuming them for the vibes—now, not so much. It’s humbling to try different kinds of food, which Vio explains ad nauseum (if Shadow hears the ‘fun fact’ that tomatoes are actually fruits one more time…) as he samples each.

Honestly, the more Shadow learns about agriculture and sustainability, the guiltier he is about destroying all those homesteads during his villain era. The more he learns about the light world in general, the guiltier he feels for almost ending it. He initially took to calling his time of evil servitude his ‘villain era’ as an attempt at ironic detachment, but it’s getting easier every day to take real accountability. Shadow doesn’t enjoy spending excessive time with the public, but working in the community garden brings him genuine joy. And it helps to feed the people of Castle Town as the surrounding farms rebuild. To think that Shadow once planned to destroy them as well, it’s… a place he tries not to let his brain go excessively.

Vio’s internal life, by comparison, seems less peaceful these days. It’s something Shadow started picking up on a week or two ago and it hasn’t improved since. Of course it’s reasonable for Vio, or anyone, to have times of unhappiness, but it’s hard for Shadow to live in the same house as the guy and turn a blind eye. Especially not when he cares very much for his friend, which is all Vio is. All he’s ever been. Months into their arrangement, and Shadow can’t justify believing anything else.

But, still. Friends can still care about each other. They can challenge each other. So despite his hesitation, Shadow does what he’s wanted to do for weeks. He starts the kettle for tea, which they’ve taken to drinking in order to preserve their remaining supply of stolen evil root beer, and enters the den where Vio sits and reads. In this moment he could be mistaken as peaceful, staring at the leather-bound volume as the fireplace crackles beside him. But Shadow knows better.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

Vio looks up and raises an eyebrow, as if he knew the question was going to come up eventually. “Why do you think something’s going?”

“You’re not turning pages.”

Vio rolls his eyes. “You’ve only been standing there for a minute.”

“So you did notice.”

The blonde sighs, putting down the book and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m fine. It’s really nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Pretty sure if it was nothing, you’d be over it by now.”

“You don’t know me that well, Shadow.”

Well, goddamn.

Vio groans and puts his head in his hands. “Hylia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Shadow puts his hands on his hips. “You definitely sound like someone who’s totally fine.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ooooookay, well, I’m not going to force you. Guess I’ll go hang out with Zelda or something.”

Vio looks up as Shadow moves to leave, grimacing. “Don’t go. I’ll tell you.”

Shadow grins. “Knew I’d break you down eventually. Tea’s on the kettle, be right back.”

“Oh. Thanks. Just… hurry back, okay?”

Shadow nods, amused by the sudden change of attitude. This boy has layers. “Spill tea everywhere and break the mugs, got it.”

Vio shakes his heads as Shadow retreats to the kitchen, but it’s with the slightest smile.

━━

Shadow likes making tea—feeling warmth through the sides of the mug, funneling fragrant dried leaves into the infuser, and watching as the water slowly bleeds a robust amber. It’s a multi-sensory experience he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy in his previous form, at least not in the way he does now. He forgets, sometimes, that his resurrection wasn’t merely a restoration of his original dark state, but a transformation to Hylian normalcy.

He misses his magic, often, but it’s not like he was going to ever use it in the void. Shadow still isn’t sure what he wanted, or expected, to happen after he shattered the dark mirror. Good things, for the others, who were so unlike him in merit and identity. Bad things, to Ganon, who used him as a pawn and convinced him he could only live in the dark. How ironic it was, then, that Shadow ended up there regardless. If Vio hadn’t brought him back, he’d still be there today.

But he’s not. He’s here, with Vio, and Zelda, and the others. And tea.

He carries both mugs into the den, where Vio doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s reading.

“Back,” Shadow greets him, trying to keep things somewhat light. “Guess which one I poisoned?”

“You wouldn’t serve me poison.”

“Fair enough,” Shadow says, passing Vio a mug and sitting down at a respectful distance (not that either of them seemed to care about personal space when The Throne was involved. Hylia, Shadow misses that thing). “I’m sensing that humor isn’t helpful right now. Talk to me.”

Vio takes a sip of his tea and gives Shadow a smile. “You’re really good at this. Thank you.”

“I am, but flattery’s not getting you out of this conversation.”

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about what we did. What we didn’t do. What that means.”

Shadow blinks. “Okay.”

Vio grows more agitated—not at Shadow, but seemingly at himself. “I know the others are doing great, and don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy, too. It’s just… are we meant to be this way? Separate? I’m just one piece of a whole person. I’m fundamentally incomplete, by definition. And, by not going back, we basically killed the original Hero. He doesn’t exist anymore. Everyone who loved him, lost him. We were selfish.”

“Why are you thinking about this now? Months later?”

Vio rubs the back of his neck, his hair currently tied up in a purple scrunchie. Shadow thinks it’s adorable, but this is not the time for… all of that. “Green told me that he visited the Hero’s father again,” Vio blurts, and Shadow knows immediately this is what’s been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. “He sees nothing wrong with it, but isn’t he just rubbing salt in the wound? Reminding him of the son who no longer exists?”

“Did Green say that the Hero’s father was upset?”

Vio shakes his head, his voice ragged. “No. He likes spending time with him, and the others. But I just can’t wrap my head around going myself. I feel like when they do it, it’s out of kindness, because they’re all the good parts of the Hero. But if I went, it would just feel manipulative. It would be to ease my own guilt. And that’s what I mean about being incomplete—I am, at my core, the sum of the Hero’s least heroic attributes. My very existence is a paradox, and given the opportunity to resolve that paradox, I chose along with the others to do the opposite.”

“Do you regret it, then?” Shadow asks, his fingers tightening around his mug. “Do you regret staying?”

Vio considers it like a scientific question. “I think that re-forming the Hero was, ethically, the correct thing to do… and certainly the most heroic. But we didn’t. And I know, I just know, that if I hadn’t raised an alternative plan, the others would have been perfectly happy to go ahead. I’m the one who voiced my doubt, gave them the idea to stay; it’s almost like I manipulated them into the decision. Because that’s me, the manipulative one! The worst of the hero’s parts, convincing the best of him to be unfathomably selfish.”

“So if you could change it, right now, you would. You’d leave.”

“Being here instead of the hero, it hurts so many people. And what kind of replacement am I, given all of the good he did for the world? All the literature indicates that I’m fundamentally not meant to be an entire person for a prolonged amount of time. My existence was meant to be temporary. And my actions have demonstrated time and time again that I’m not a consistently good person at all. Sure, I wasn’t ever going to serve Vaati or Ganon, but when I met you, when we started, uh, working together, I had fun. And I wanted to know more. About the Dark World, the mirror, all of it. I never lost sight of doing the right thing, like I said, y’know, when you were about to execute me—”

“Yeah, I was there.”

“—and that was the truth, really! Well, kind of. If I’m being honest, it’s just… a little more complicated than that. The others wouldn’t understand. There was good and evil, but there was also… just, another thing. Made it messy. Still can’t quite put my finger on what.”

“Ah.”

“So I just have been thinking, a lot, and I keep circling back to the inviolable truth that what we did was the wrong choice. And it’s all my fault.”

Shadow grits his teeth and places his mug on the coffee table. “Then why did you have the idea in the first place,” he asks Vio, his voice colder than intended. “Why did you voice the idea in the first place.”

“I had the idea because it seemed wrong to create four people from one, and then force them into nonexistence. Just as wrong as it was to rob Hyrule of its hero through our creation in the first place.”

“That’s all?”

Vio cocks his head. It’s not cute right now. “You sound hurt. You know it wouldn’t have affected you either way. You weren’t a part of him prior to the split. You came from another world. And if we had reformed, you would still have lived on as the Hero’s shadow. We’d just be… gone.”

“Well thank you for considering me.”

Vio scowls and places down his own mug, forcefully displacing some of its contents. “What’s your problem? You asked me to talk, and now you’re mad?”

“Because, Vio, you made this choice months ago, we’ve been basically living together since, and I guess I wrongly assumed that even a miniscule aspect of your decision to stay might have had something to do with… you know what, never mind. I’m not saying it.”

Shadow stands up and stares into the fire, refusing to meet Vio’s gaze.

“Saying what?”

“Don’t make me feel like more of an idiot than I already do,” Shadow says, mortified by the blush spreading on his cheeks. “Not again.”

Vio flounders. “I…”

“I gotta take a walk,” Shadow says, already halfway to the cottage’s front door when he feels Vio’s hand on his shoulder.

“Shadow, stop, you don’t—”

Shadow shrugs him off. “I am telling you, I need to take a walk. Please give me some space before I say something I’ll regret.”

He can’t see Vio’s stupid face but he can guess what it looks like. Hurt, confused, like a kicked puppy. “You… okay. I’m sorry. Go ahead. Thanks for making the tea. And for not, uh, poisoning it.”

Shadow doesn’t laugh. And then he’s gone.

━━

Vio wants to convince himself that there’s a monster in the cellar. He can take a monster any day of the week, and actually, they’re pretty common in these woods. No wonder the cottage’s former owners abandoned it.

What truly terrifies Vio is the other, much more likely possibility: that it’s Shadow down there, waiting for their inevitable confrontation. He’s been puzzling over their argument for hours, feeling so stupid for someone who claims to be smart. He wasn’t lying, for a second, but he knows he must have gone too far, ignored some conversational landmine and pushed Shadow too far. He wishes Red was here, or Zelda. Anyone with an ounce of emotional intelligence compared to his obvious deficit, honestly.

The sun has gone down. Their tea has gone cold. There is no monster in the cellar.

But still, Vio has to try.

━━

The cellar is dark, damp, and used primarily to store barrels of evil root beer. Vio isn’t surprised that Shadow hasn’t touched them. He’s been really into tea lately, and seems to have a strong sense of sentimentality towards their stockpile. Vio feels that way too, of course, but it’s easier pointing out these patterns when someone like Shadow demonstrates them. Much can be said to criticize the way Shadow has historically managed his emotions, but there is something admirable about a person so boldly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe it’s even more noticeable to Vio, who has trouble admitting even the simplest internal truths, like the fact that he’s not a fan of green tea or that he doesn’t like the color yellow or that he might probably definitely absolutely have non-platonic feelings for Shadow.

No, Shadow’s exactly where Vio knew he would be: standing in front of that damn mirror.

“Why did you bring me back?” Shadow asks, his eyes on Vio’s approaching reflection.

“What do you mean?”

Shadow turns his head now, eyes drilling into Vio like he wants to see him in pieces—not out of anger, profound, aching confusion. Vio… can understand that.

“You chose to stay separate from the others, meaning I wouldn’t have the Hero to attach myself to. I was just… floating, in the abyss. Until I wasn’t. What in the world possessed you to repair this thing, especially since it poses such a threat to Hyrule? Why—why did the others allow you to repair it?”

“I already told you why,” Vio says, and it almost sounds like a plea. “They wanted to give you the chance to be a person too. A whole one, like we got to be. It was only fair.”

“No. They pitied me.”

“They welcomed you. They like you. They might not understand you, but they harbor no ill will towards you. Well, maybe Blue does, but he would harbor ill will towards a garden gnome.”

“Stop being clever, I’m upset with you.”

Vio sighs, his posture wilting. He feels small. “Can you give me a hint? I know I’m smart, but I’m having trouble here.”

Shadow scowls, hand going to his hair. “I’m not trying to confuse you. I want to listen and be a good friend. But I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t hurt. The fact that, if given the option, you’d undo the decision that got us where we are now.”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t have hurt you either way—”

“But that’s what you’re not getting!” Shadow exclaims, balling up both fists at his sides. Vio takes a few steps back, not afraid for his safety but nervous nonetheless.

“I ended my life so you and the others could save the world and yourselves. But I also knew, the way things were going, that it was my own best possible option. I mean, in a way, I would have still ended up with… never mind.”

Vio’s scowling now, too, because none of this makes sense in the way it should. “So you agree? I shouldn’t have voiced my idea, or repaired the mirror to bring you back?”

“No, idiot! I’m saying that—I can’t believe you’re making me say this—I treasure every single stupid day I get to spend with you, Vio. Not like I would with the Hero, not how I do with the others. You. I like you. I’d fight Vaati, Ganon, Hylia herself, just to be with you. I’d put up with living in the Hero’s shadow just to feel any hint of you that’s left behind. And maybe it’s stupid, and I’ve made this exact mistake before, but after everything happened I thought that maybe… maybe you felt the same way. Maybe I was one of your reasons to stick around. You did bring me back, after all. And we’ve been doing… this… for months now. And I’m happy! Like really happy! The happiest I’ve ever been, which isn’t a high bar to clear, but still!”

“Shadow, hey—”

“But at the same time, I don’t fully trust you, and we’ve hurt each other so much, and none of this should be working as well as it does. But you don’t seem to want to leave, you don’t seem to be here out of pity, and fuck, Vio, it makes me crazy trying to figure out what’s going on in your head!”

Shadow breathes heavily, his chest visibly rising and falling. Vio wants to reach out, hold him, admit every single secret hope he’s been so determined to ignore for so long… but he can’t. It’s too late.

“I did it again.” Vio says, his voice thin.

“Did what?”

“Let you down. I… I appear to be very adept at that.”

Shadow rolls his eyes, and it’s not because he’s endeared. “Stop it with the fancy words, there’s no one here you have to impress.”

“Shadow. I care what you think. I care about you, of course I do! I didn’t even think that was a question!”

“Really?” Shadow shakes his head. “Because the last time I said something stupid about trusting you, that you were my first and only friend, you betrayed me like it meant nothing.”

Vio must look so stupid, the way he just stands there and lets the words sting. Slowly, he speaks, unsure of each word as it passes his lips. “What I did was for the good of the entire world. I didn’t want to hurt you, but if I hadn’t turned on you when I did, we wouldn’t be where we are now. I’d be dead, or worse. You’d be the servant to some evil god. We both know it’s better this way.”

“I do know that,” Shadow says, tears in his eyes. “You’re the one who’s saying he’d un-make a pivotal choice that got us here. I would choose to be betrayed by you over and over again if it meant we’d eventually end up together.”

“If I recall correctly, you seemed pretty excited by the aspect of world domination, and you said yourself that you only saw me as a pawn.”

“For like five seconds! Vio, I’m not subtle about anything. Never have been, never will be. By that night we had drinks and talked on the balcony, I was just excited that I was standing there with you. So excited that I ignored the obvious red flags leading to your betrayal. I was stupid. I’m being stupid again now, admitting all that.”

Shadow steps towards the barrels of evil root beer but Vio stands in his way. “Stop saying you’re stupid. I’m just an asshole.”

“For fuck’s sake, Vio, don’t weaponize this against yourself. Neither of us are upstanding citizens, but at least we’re trying. You can’t try if you don’t exist. We can talk more in the morning, or not. Good night.”

So he was heading for the stairs. Vio sheepishly lets him go by.

“We just… should not have conversations around this mirror, huh,” he says, turning to face his own reflection.

“Whatever. Good night.”

Vio hears footsteps, a door close, and then… silence.

Maybe there is a monster in the cellar, after all.

━━

There is blood on Vio’s hands.

He recalls a previous instance of blood on his hands—not much, but enough to prove to the others that he was real, that his betrayal had been truly his own. A punishment for his deception, even though his intention was never to become a true creature of the darkness.

In every ethical conundrum, Vio has learned, one must consider the practical and the interpersonal. Practically, Vio hadn’t deserved the minor wound, but interpersonally… well, it was fair enough for what he had put the others through.

Tonight the mirror bleeds—but, by Hylia, Vio still feels it.

He kneels, the image of reverence, in the center of a chalk-drawn circle. The cellar is quiet as death, and if he closes his eyes and inhales the sickly air he can easily imagine himself buried alive. For everything he’s done, that may be justice—but not just yet. Not when there’s a chance, however small, that this ritual could work.

After weeks of research and very little sleep, he’s managed to intuit the correct sequence of dark runes to spell victory. The strange language glows on the ground, illuminating the arc surrounding him. He glances down at his journal, spotted with ink and stained by tea, and scrutinizes the instructions he’s left for himself. Then he looks at the mirror—not the mirror, but a mirror all the same—and gasps at the sight of his own reflection.

He looks haunted, there’s no better word for it than that. His pale face, disheveled hair, and dark under-eye circles… and, of course, the blood on his hands. Not red, like his own, but jet-black, oozing from the corners of the ornate mirror Vio had taken from Hyrule Castle.

He still can’t believe Zelda and the others are allowing him to attempt this, especially since he’d never meant for them to find out. Unfortunately Zelda is more observant than Vio gave her credit for, noticing the mirror’s absence immediately, and put the pieces together from there. But still, even after a confrontation, she and others told Vio they wouldn’t stop him. He still doesn’t know why, but suspects it was out of pity.

To be fair, Vio is pitiful. What he did… what he didn’t do… it’s a weight he can’t bear. Maybe if Vio had considered the guilt he’d feel for the rest of his life, he would have happily reformed the Hero. At least then he wouldn’t have to carry it alone.

But that’s wrong, too. The others aren’t responsible for what happened. He knows damn well he made the decisions leading him here alone.

The practical, and the interpersonal—those are what haunt him. He would have never guessed a heart could ache the way his does almost every minute. He can’t even explain why, besides abstract concepts of right and wrong and guilt and grief, rotating in his head until he’s dizzy from it.

Vio doesn’t deserve to be here if he can’t undo this mistake. Maintaining the split, condemning the Hero to the memories of those who loved him, is an act of liberation for Red, Green, and Blue. Vio does truly believe that.

But for him�� it’s penance. From the second the idea struck him, that’s all it’s been. His work will not be done until he makes this right. Maybe afterwards, he’ll finally be able to embrace the life he’s forged for himself. Maybe he’ll move from this abandoned cottage into the castle, or even just Castle Town. Maybe he’ll make more friends. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Vio pictures the life awaiting him and recognizes it for what it is: empty. He hasn’t formed strong bonds, found places of belonging, or even left the house very often since the split. He… feels incomplete. Which makes a world of sense, given the very way Vio came to be.

He knows he’s stalling. The ritual is working and he has no time to waste. With one last glance into the bleeding mirror, he raises the ceremonial ocarina from its velvet pillow and brings it to his lips. He’s written the command in a simple notation, easy enough for a child to use. The Song of Healing, it’s called, left behind by ancient Heroes who traveled through time, transformed into wild beasts, and saved the world from certain doom. True Heroes—how ashamed they’d be, learning how Vio uses their arcane secrets now.

The void bleeds from the mirror’s edges, seeping into its frame. Vio plays the song with shaky breath, breaking into a cold sweat as the notes carry through the cellar. Once finished, he replaces the ocarina and slams both hands onto the glass, feeling it rumble beneath him.

Please, Hylia, he begs the same Goddess he betrayed only weeks ago. I’m sorry I took your Hero. But please, you can’t punish someone else for my misdeeds.

Tears fall from his closed eyes, landing on the glass as it quakes. This isn’t part of the ritual but feels important all the same.

He knows what will happen next—the mirror will crack, allowing darkness to bleed through every jagged crevice into the world of the light. It’s not much of a gateway compared to the original, but wide enough for a single wandering soul to pass through.

Please.

He sits there for what feels like hours, eyes shut tight as he waits for the glass to shatter beneath his hands. But it doesn’t, and eventually it ceases to pulse at all.

Vio knows that he has failed. He knows the runes have gone dark, that the inky blood has dried on his fingertips, and that the Goddess has refused his desperate plea. The Hero is gone for nothing, or at least for one-fourth of it, and Vio’s life will forever be empty and haunted.

“No,” Vio whimpers, and it’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard. “Please, no.”

And every emotion is crushing, but the worst is the least expected: loss. Sinking, devastating loss. Like part of his heart has been removed, but not enough to stop it completely—he is afforded no small mercy by the onslaught.

Shadow is really gone.

And it’s all Vio’s fault.

He lowers his head and opens his eyes. In the inky darkness of the mirror, he can make out a form vaguely like his own… but as the tears clear from his eyes, Vio knows that some magic must still be in the air. Hylia herself taunts him from the heavens, denying him even the dignity of his own reflection.

Vio stares into the mirror, but the left-handed Hero stares back.

And then he wakes up.

━━

“Shadow.”

It’s the first thing to leave Vio’s lips as he wakes, already slamming his bare feet onto the wooden floor. His own frantic breaths echo through head as he runs down the hall, glancing into Shadow’s room as he had done so many months before. Unlike last time, however, Shadow is gone.

Shadow is gone.

“Nonononononono,” Vio mutters to himself as he holds his head in his hands. The ritual had worked, he remembers it so clearly! Their life together, in their cottage, is real! Hylia showed him mercy!

He sees a few of Shadow’s possessions on the nightstand, but this provides the opposite of relief. If everything is real but Shadow’s still gone, it’s because of their argument yesterday—in other words, where Vio succeeded with the ancient and arcane, he failed terrifically with the interpersonal. Again.

Or maybe he’s been living in a state of delusion this whole time, maybe the ritual really had failed. Maybe Shadow got caught off-guard by a monster after their argument, maybe he’s gone straight to a Castle Town real estate agent, maybe Vio died months ago and he’s been imagining everything since. Maybe he’s just a part of the Hero now, maybe the four reconverged in the end, and this reality is just a shred of Vio’s consciousness clinging to strange inexplicable dreams of what could have been if he had only given Shadow the chance to redeem himself. If he had only been honest about the way he felt. If every time he’d wanted to take Shadow into his arms and hold him tight and never let go, he’d gotten over his own bullshit and just. fucking. gone for it, because maybe, maybe, maybe that’s what Vio has always wanted, behind his absurd mask of intellectual objectivity, and it’s not the sum of his desires for life but it’s Shadow and it’s home and life without him would be achingly incomplete.

But it doesn’t matter. None of this matters, because Shadow is gone. Shadow is gone, and once again, it’s all Vio’s fault.

And there’s something going on in the kitchen.

Through the doorway Vio can see him, leaning over the counter as he waits for the kettle to whistle. He hums a song and Vio knows exactly which one. After all, hadn’t he just played it?

“Seems like neither of us can sleep,” Shadow says without turning his head. “Want some tea?”

Vio’s mouth is drier than the desert and he just now realizes how faint he feels. Shadow is there immediately as his body slackens, holding him in his arms.

“Vio, you look terrible,” Shadow remarks with genuine concern, holding a warm hand to the blonde’s forehead. For once Vio is running colder, and he would quip about it if he wasn’t on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you real?” Vio hears himself ask, like an idiot.

“Last time I checked, sure.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Shadow sighs. “Yeah, a little, or at least I was earlier. But that doesn’t mean I’d just, like, disappear. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t ever let me get rid of you,” Vio says, reaching up to cup Shadow’s face. “Never again.”

Shadow blinks, his expression unreadable. “Vio, I...”

“Never,” Vio repeats, gripping Shadow tighter. At least he’s getting his strength back.

“You’re acting super weird. You know you’re acting super weird, right?”

It stings, but he’s not wrong. Vio never expresses himself like this, so pathetic and unrestrained. He can’t blame Shadow for being uncomfortable, for pulling away—

“I think it’s good,” Shadow continues, brushing Vio’s hair off his sweaty forehead. He bonks Vio’s head with his own, and it’s closer than they usually get to each other, but so achingly welcome. “I think… whatever’s going on, it’s something you’ve needed for a while. Thank you for letting me help you.”

Oh.

The kettle starts to whistle and Shadow gives Vio an apologetic look. “So as comfy as the kitchen floor is, maybe we move this to the couch?”

Vio nods and stands on shaky legs, watching hypnotized as Shadow prepares their tea. He really is good at it, far better than Vio during his weeks of caffeine-fueled arcane research. Then again, for Vio it had only been about fuel—for Shadow it seems to be therapy, and art, and a way to show how much he cares.

“What?” Shadow asks, turning his head as the tea seeps. “Not how you want it?”

Vio shakes his head vehemently.

“No. This is exactly how I want it.”

━━

It was Shadow’s idea to invite the Hero’s father to their cottage. As they sat on the couch and sipped their tea and said so many of the things they should have said months ago, they agreed it would be daunting but good for everyone involved.

And it has been good, so far—a little awkward at first, mostly between Shadow and the Captain (warranted, given their last significant interaction)—but good overall.

Shadow has taken the backseat for the majority of the afternoon, busying himself in the kitchen and eavesdropping while Vio shows the Captain various legends about previous iterations of the Hero. That part was Vio’s idea, and Shadow can’t imagine anything more fitting. While Vio is not and will never be the son the Captain knew, it doesn’t seem that the Captain resents him in the slightest (Shadow could have guessed that, but it’s great for Vio to see). In fact, Vio’s information dumping seems to bring the Captain closer to the Hero’s memory in an unexpectedly poignant way.

They seem to be wrapping up, though, which makes sense since dusk is beginning to fall. The Captain will want to be on his way soon, as the woods surrounding their cottage tend to get a little hairy at night.

Shadow takes a deep breath as he prepares to step out of the kitchen. While today is mostly for Vio, he has his own discomforts with the Captain. But he’s no hypocrite, and certainly no coward—after all, there’s some Hero in him too.

“Thank you for the tea,” the Captain says to Shadow, who stays in the kitchen door frame with his arms crossed. “It was excellent.”

“Thanks,” Shadow says, looking at Vio as he rises from the couch.

“And thank you, Vio,” the Captain tells the blonde, resting a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I would really like to learn more sometime. I bet the others would, too. They miss you.”

Vio rubs the back of his neck in a way Shadow has always found so unfairly adorable. The guy can be a criminal mastermind when he wants to be, but in moments like these he could fool just about anyone. Which, to be fair, he probably has..

“Tell them we say hello,” Shadow says, crossing the room to Vio’s side. He wants so badly to take his hand—like, so badly—but that was not something they got around to discussing last night.

It’s okay. If Vio doesn’t care for Shadow in that way, it won’t be the end of their friendship or cohabitation... but Shadow’s pretty sure he does. Call it a hunch. Whether Vio knows how he feels, however, is yet to be seen.

The Captain looks from Vio to Shadow and then back again. It’s clear he wants to ask them something but quickly decides against it. “You’ve made a nice home for yourselves out here,” he says instead. “I’m glad you found each other again. Neither of you deserves to be lonely.”

And for once, both Shadow and Vio are equally stunned into silence.

“Anyway, I’ll be off,” the Captain says, shrugging on his cloak and heading for the door. “You two have a good night.”

“Walk safe,” Shadow and Vio say at the exact same time. Their faces sour. What has become of them, saying something like ‘walk safe’ with complete sincerity?

The Captain leaves and it’s just Shadow and Vio again, as it should be, inside their house that’s also their home.

━━

“One more cup before bed?” Shadow asks as he returns to the kitchen, grabbing the dirty mugs from the coffee table as he passes.

“Sure,” Vio says, because even though he just had tea with the Captain he knows it’ll make Shadow happy and he likes seeing Shadow happy and he can totally admit that to himself without cringing or needing to hide in a dark room with no windows.

Shadow turns his back to Vio as he places the dirty dishes in the sink and pours water into the kettle. He’s humming, again, and Vio smiles. “Where did you learn that song?”

Shadow shrugs as he crosses over to the stove, firing it up and placing down the kettle. “Dunno. Kinda just thought I made it up. Why do you ask?”

“It’s, uh… it’s a good song, is all.”

Shadow faces Vio as the water begins to boil, wearing the infectious grin Vio has never been able to resist. Both young men lean against opposite counters, and the kitchen feels more cramped than it ever has before.

“You think it went okay, with the Captain?” Shadow asks, seemingly unaware of the tension between them.

“Oh, uh. Yes. I think so.”

“I’m glad. I was scared it was a bad idea, or that it would go wrong… I’m really proud of you for following through with it. I’m really proud of us both, actually. Sometimes I act like I know what I’m doing, with the therapy-talk and everything, but all of this terrifies me too. Sometimes I miss the good old days of arson and evil root beer, you know?”

Vio nods dumbly and Shadow cocks his head. “Uh, you good?”

And after all the time and all the tension, all the hurt and all the healing, the inviolable truth finally comes out.

“Shadow I really like you, like not just a friend-like you, and I have for a long time, pretty much ever since we met in the woods and you were hitting on me, like you were definitely hitting on me right, I came into existence and met you and pretty much immediately was like ‘well I guess I’m into men, good to know,’ anyway we shared that throne and drank evil root beer but I was stupid and betrayed you and you died but then I brought you back and I’m so glad it worked and that I’m here and that you’re here and Hylia I want to kiss you all the time so if you’re interested in that maybe we could—”

Shadow kisses him.

The kettle whistles.

And whistles.

━━

"Whenever there is a meeting, a parting shall follow.

But that parting needs not last forever.

Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short while...

that is up to you."

#four swords #four swords manga #fs #vio x shadow #vidow #my writing

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themaethpost · 1 year

Text

Now Presenting: Matías D'Angelis, the librarian.

Full name: Matías Gabriel D’Angelis.

Age: 32 years old.

Birthday: 23rd November.

Sexual orientation: Pansexual.

Pet: Juno, the black kitty.

Personality.

Birth chart (big three): Sagittarius sun, Scorpio moon, Gemini rising.

MBTI: INTP-T.

Patron Arcana: The Hermit.

Upright: Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance.

Reversed: Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal.

Minor Arcana: Six of Cups.

Upright: Revisiting the past, childhood memories, innocence, joy.

Reversed: Living in the past, forgiveness, lacking playfulness.

Likes: Tea enthusiast, patchwork quilts made by his grandma, salamander stoves, when books are well-lived (coffee stains, worn out pages, annotations), open windows in every space he is in, black and white checker tiles on his bathroom, when Juno sits on his chest and purrs, thunderstorms, mint chocolate in every single way it could be ordered, blue soft cotton shirts, reuniting with the guys for friendly football matches on Fridays, when schools have a Library day and all the little kids say hi to him, the private section of the library where he only has access, knuckle and jaw kisses, foot massages, ivy growing on the side of his building, sealing cards with fancy wax, cooking for his loved ones, sunbathing at the river, brown corduroy jackets.

Dislikes: The sound of the kettle when the water is boiling, having to make his bed in the morning, when Juno climbs the trees near his balcony to sleep and has to wait for her to come back home, abrupt change, being so swamped in work he doesn’t have time to see his loved ones, the fact that his grandma is way too old now, when people lose their library card and has to do all the paperwork again, being late to things, bad grammar, feeling like he’s losing a debate.

Abilities: He’s a great swimmer and knows how to knit even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s incredibly good at crosswords (maybe because he spend his whole life with his nose in books), knows how to recycle paper and turn it into beautiful notebooks where we lays down different play plots ideas he wants to full-on write but is too afraid to actually do it.

Favourite food: Milanesas a la napolitana.

Favourite drink: Mint Iced Tea.

Favourite flower: Calla lillies.

Appearance.

Height: 6’1 ft or 185 cm.

Weight: 163 lbs or 74 kg.

Hair: He’s got dark brown hair with truly defined curls that he styles with a bit of hair wax, only a little bit, just for his curls to hold on for the entirety of the day. It’s a lot of hair but it’s not long per se, just really shaggy all over.

Eyes: His kind, sleepy, black eyes are so soft letting everyone see how he spend all night reading instead of getting a good night’s sleep. He also has dark circles under his eyes but his smile always hides them. A few wrinkles appeared when he turned 30 but they’re not super noticiable.

General description: Even if he tries to hide his slender body with his clothes because he’s not that proud of his lack of muscles, his back is well defined and big, just a bit bony, but its decorated with a ton of little dark freckles that also appear in his chest, legs and arms. His most noticiable feature is his beautiful roman nose and that well-defined jawline. His eyebrows are kind of bushy but he combs them with a little spoolie brush his grandma gave him, and a few freckles appear all over his face when summer arrives and sun touches his face. He’s got veiny (cold) hands.

Fashion sense: Matías really likes layering. White or back cotton shirt, button up shirt, some dress grey or black slacks and Oxford shoes are his go-to outfit for work, depending on the weather he would usually wear a cardigan or a turtleneck sweater too. He would never leave without his watch on his left wrists and he isn’t that much of a fan of jewellery. Another outfit that’s pretty common for him is his soccer attire, jersey and sport shorts with his worn out cleats. In the privacy of his own home is very rare for him to wear a shirt and he prefers to walk around in his comfy blue square-pattern cotton pants.

A brief look into his life.

Occupation: The National Library of Maeth is gigantic to say the least and he’s been working at this place for the past ten years or so, he doesn’t even remember anymore. They have different sections and long, long corridors full of knowledge and fictional stories with space to sit down and read for hours. He’s the one to go for recommendations, to find an specific book or to check one out. Remember, you only have one month and it has to be returned in perfect conditions!

Love interest:

Yasue Kumagai.

Family and friends:

Elsa Torrente D’Angelis, grandmother.

Sergio D'Angelis, father.

Paz D’Angelis, half sibling.

Juan Cruz D’Angelis, half sibling.

Anshelinah Circe, best friend.

Tomás, Marcos, Cole, Shuhei, Emilio and Draigh, his friend group.

Fiorella, Van, Josefina and Dario, co-workers.

Miscellaneous facts:

He baby-talks ridiculously to Juno. It’s super embarrassing.

He’s a tea connoisseur. Has a big box with different flavoured teas from all over the globe.

Surprisingly, he loves to go on outdoor adventures even more so if it means he’ll get to jump down big rocks to a body of water or zip line from mountain to mountain.

He likes to visit his grandma at least once a week, whenever he can at least to say hello and drink a cup of tea with the lady.

He wants tattoos but is afraid of needles and sharp things.

#the maeth post #matias dangelis #oc #world building

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1010lilfoot · 11 months

Note

It must be tough to draw such big shots like the latest update. How do you do it? ><

It can definitely be tough! Some are harder than others. As you might expect, the fabled crowd shots are rough ones. This wasn't so bad, but I've had to draw shots with like 40 characters milling around (I made myself do it so I have no one to blame lol).

The hardest part for me is that I get bored halfway through. I don't like spending too long on one page, or even one panel, haha. Well, it also gets difficult to keep track of all the little details. I must train harder...

My advice for big establishing shots? Just stick to it! Don't get bogged down in details. You'll be done after a while and you won't be bored anymore!

Okay I did have very vague thoughts when drawing the background characters for this one, so I will elaborate on them! Going from top to bottom/left to right!

Fishhead Guy: He's part of security for the event! A wise adult. He can only drink salt water, and Partridge keeps a steady supply for him. Keeps a small aquarium at home. Has he ever taken a sip of the water? That's for him to know and for us to never find out...

Below our group of known characters is...a whole bunch of NYSM members! Yes, they are a big group. The size is more like TDD than TDL.

Blond Hair and Green Dress: Young adults dancing around a relationship. Both are thinking the same thing... "Does she like me back?" She does! Work it out! In terms of their Talents, Green Dress gives totally accurate horoscopes. When Blond Hair feels down, her presence turns into that of the sea at night, when it's completely dark. She draws you in, and if you take her hand, you'll be lost at sea... Not on purpose, though. She's nice!

Suspenders: They are good friends with Blond and Green. They don't actually have a Talent, but they're a part of NYSM nonetheless. When Green became Talented, Suspenders joined her in leaving home to find a Talent City. Suspenders is very, very good at math. A lot of Talented ran away from home/left society as young teenagers, so being good at math is like, an insane skill.

White Fire and Suit Friend: Besties. :) White Fire acts on impulse 99% of the time and Suit Friend enables him. They're cool kids who like to...uh, loiter. White Fire tried to skateboard and completely wiped out, once. Suit Friend's Talent is being literally impossible to knock over. White Fire's Talent is self-explanatory. The fire isn't hot, but it has zero functionality.

Birdcage and Puffer Jacket: Birdcage's Talent is reminiscent of a phoenix! Fire will randomly generate in her birdcage head–also not hot. She heals fast, and is immortal (except for old age). She doesn't know a lot about her Talent because, like...how would she test this stuff? Bubbles will spontaneously generate from Puffer Jacket's body. This is all her Talent does. She knows a lot about it, though, and in a dangerous situation, she can create a bubble smokescreen easily. Birdcage thinks she's super cool.

White Hair and Star: Star looks familiar to me too... She's not a reference or anything though, so I probably just reused an old design on accident. She can jump on those stars and use them as platforms, but they shrink and disappear quickly. Her Talent is like a real life video game platformer. White Hair can find any sort of plant in their sleeves. They've learned how to make tea/herbal remedies/etc. because of this. They're shy but they'll give you a flower.

Feathers, Green Hair, and Red Jacket: All adults! Feathers' Talent is just that–growing feathers like a scarf. He really likes it and think's it's fashionable. He's a bit narcissistic. Green Hair can change her hair like a chameleon. It usually happens on accident, like a mood ring. She can't control it well and she's a chaotic person, so it's constantly changing. Red Jacket is doing their best to make both these weirdos chill out. It is not going well. Their Talent means everything they touch with their bare hands will be stained red. It washes out eventually, but they wear gloves, for practicality.

#TDL #ask #anonymous #this is a bit of a long one

0 notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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thecraftymagician · 3 years

Note

What domestic skills do you think Julian has? Like everyone headcannons that he can’t cook but I feel like he has to know at least something! Maybe he’s good at fixing things? Ooh or laundry? (I bet he learned some useful tips from Mazelinka about how to get rid of stains!)

Oooo! Okay soooo..

Julian's Domestic Skill Set:

In my opinion, Julian can actually cook. He's not the best with figuring out seasonings/flavors on his own but he can follow a recipe absolutely. The problem isn't that he can't it's just well, he gets distracted. He'll burn the food because he was rereading the recipe or looking for an ingredient or pan or something. Or maybe the salt shaker was loose and well.. He's not good a prep cooking to say the least which in turn leads to disasters lol When supervised or has help, it's not half bad! This is the joy of coffee/tea/alcoholic mixology, it's just measuring and mixing liquids to taste and he does taste test haha

That being said, drink making! Coffee, alcohol, milkshake, you name it he'll make it for you. Warning: he will try bar tricks and they will lead to a huge mess half the time haha

We know he sings and can play that viola type instrument. I think maybe more as a hobby but he's good when it comes to music. I can see him taking piano/organ lessons from Nadia but some instruments don't necessarily come naturally to him. That being said he actually likes to write and compose songs but he does sample alot from sea shanties.

Laundry is again something that gives him something to do when he needs to think. Mazelinka absolutely taught him alot about stains and how to wash certain materials. He can't sew however, hand stitching or with a machine. If something breaks he'll usually either ask you, Mazelinka, or Portia. He's not afraid to admit he was bested by a button.

When it comes to fixing things, it depends lol if you mess up a book for example he knows how to fix the pages and make it new but if it's past flattening pages or drying it out then he knows a guy. For plumbing or fixtures he knows a bit more than basics and is handy but more of a "duct tape and spit" kinda guy. It's fixed but it's not exactly the prettiest. No worries, he knows a guy. Basically anything he can't handle, he knows someone. That being said depending on what's broken he'll be very stubborn about fixing it himself. This is more so in regards to props or knick knacks, doors and dressers, shelves, etc.

He's into conditioning leather. Anything you own that has leather, he takes care of. Not like obsessively but there is a designated day in the month where he'll be scrubbing at boots and bags for a few hours.

Organizing but only certain things. When it comes to his own desk, it's his own personal brand of organized chaos but when it's something like ingredients, dishes, books, etc he'll organize them for real but in a way that makes sense to him. So bowls might be too high up for you to reach until you remind him.

When the two of you clean he tackles dusting and the floors for the most part unless you need something up high wiped down.

Disclaimer: in any task he will he singing or humming, I don't make the rules. He's also subject to getting distracted at any point but cooking is the only thing I don't think can be corrected as easily or fixed/finished.

Update: I can’t reply to notes ugh But yes! He’d be so happy if MC joined him in singing. He LOVES their voice no matter what they think. Warning: he will teach you shanties and will loose his ever living mind if you sing the dirty bits with him! It’ll be so shocking, especially if you’re harmonizing and trying to sound all sweet and angelic. New power up unlocked: please feel free to terrorize him with this. He won’t know what to do with you and become a flustered mess haha

#the arcana #thearcanagame #julian devorak #julian the arcana #ilya devorak

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fredshufflepuff · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 || 𝐝.𝐦 ✧˖*°࿐

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟑𝟖𝟔

you groaned lowly to yourself as you rolled around in bed, the cramps in your lower abdomen seeming to increase by the second.

you had just gotten your period earlier this morning and ever since then it’s been hell. you feel and look like shit, not to mention how your body was literally trying to kill you.

your attention was quickly brought to the door as you heard knocks irrupt from it, your eyebrows furrowing and mouth open slightly as you mumbled for them to come in.

the door opened slowly and a certain blonde popped his head in, your heart seeming to speed up as you quickly sat up.

“draco, what’re you doing here?” you asked, trying to wipe off yesterday’s makeup from your face with the back of your hand.

you and draco were never...close in the beginning of the year. but when cormac dumped you and left you heartbroken, a certain slytherin had the bright idea to start a ‘friends with benefits.’

which in the beginning seemed fun, but now it was hell. you would be lying if you said you didn’t like draco—scratch that, love him.

you were head over heels for him, how could you not?

every time you guys would finish...fucking, he’d make sure to clean you up before falling asleep with you in his arms. which at first you thought was normal, but when you talked to draco’s former fuck buddies, you realized it wasn’t.

they said he would never stay after sex, hell—he wouldn’t even let some of them finish. he was rude and blunt during the whole thing and would never even think about cleaning them up.

“y/n,” draco snapped you from your thoughts as you hummed quietly in response, “i said i came to see you.”

“me?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing as he nodded.

the only times draco came to see you was when he wanted to fuck—i mean, that’s all you guys were—‘friends that fucked.’

“why do you seem shocked?” the boy questioned, shutting the door behind him before making his way over to you.

you honestly couldn’t tell if he was in the mood or not, it was always hard to read him. but if he was, you had to tell him now that you weren’t able to...please him.

“because every time you come to see me we end up fucking” you sighed, leaning back into your pillows as a deep shade of red took over your features.

draco seemed hurt by your words—no, he seemed offended. yeah you guys were fuck buddies, but did that mean he couldn’t just come to see you?

“what is that supposed to mean—”

“it means i’m on my period and really don’t feel like having your dick in me.”

his eyes stayed locked on yours as a small scowl took over his face. was he really mad over the fact that you didn’t want to have sex? i mean, you had a good reason.

what you didn’t expect was for draco to turn around and walk through the door, shutting it behind him as you sat there in shock.

was be being serious? you knew draco was a jerk but this? who the fuck does he think he is?

you sat in shock for a good minute or two before rolling to your side, your eyes falling shut as you clutched your pillow close to your chest.

you felt like your insides were about to burst that’s how bad your cramps were. not to mention how much of an asshole draco was to walk out on you like that—

the door suddenly opened making you groan loudly, not even bothering to greet him again as you hid your face into the pillow.

“fuck off, draco.”

“snappy now are we?” the boy said, shutting the door behind him before shuffling towards your bed.

“fuck off” you repeated, sitting yourself up finally and narrowing your eyes at draco—only to let them fall to what was in his hands.

he had a cup of tea in one and a plate of your favorite biscuits in the other, a rolled up towel tucked under his arm and a book under the other.

“w-what—”

“i went to get your favorite things” he said, handing the tea over before setting the biscuits down in front of you.

you felt your chest swell up as you watched him sit across from you, the book he had being your favorite as he placed it to the side.

“is that a towel?” you asked, the boy nodding as he unraveled it to show you.

“it’s heated up by magic, it’s supposed to help with cramps.”

a small frown came to your face as draco helped you place it over your waist, the heat immediately taking over your cramps.

“what’s with the frown?”

you looked up at him before shrugging your shoulders with guilt, “i just feel bad. i thought you were leaving me because i didn’t want to have sex.”

draco looked at you in complete shock, his eyes flashing hurt as he shook his head, “why would i do that?”

“because we’re fuck buddies—” draco seemed to flinch at those words, your frown deepening as you placed your tea on the bed stand.

“what, draco?”

the boy went quiet for a few seconds before sighing deeply, his fingers nervously running through his hair and tugging slightly at the strands.

“are we just—” he paused for a second, gulping deeply before mumbling, “—fuck buddies?”

you stared at him in silence before shrugging your shoulders, deeply confused to what he was implying, “that’s what we are, are we not?”

draco was about to speak but you were quick to cut him off, “i mean, it was your idea, draco.”

“but i regret it.”

he said it so quickly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly the first time.

he regrets it?

“r-regret it?” you asked, his eyes dropping from yours and breaking contact as he stared at his lap, “regret what? us?”

“no!” he was even quicker to spit his response out, scooting closer to you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “i regret starting off the way we did, i wish we were more.”

“more?”

“more” he said, breathing slowing down as he waited for your response. his heart was practically beating out of his chest, but why was he so nervous?

he was draco malfoy. he got any girl he wanted, but you weren’t any girl. he would feel like shit if he lost you, you weren’t like everyone else.

“draco, are you saying what i think your saying?”

fuck it.

“that i love you?”

you almost choked on your own salvia as your eyes bulged out of your head, “y-you love me?”

“do you feel the same?” draco completely ignored your question, wanting to know immediately if he had fucked up or not.

of course you loved him, and it was painfully obvious he felt the same. everything he did for you was out of love, the way he held you after sex—his body spooning you from behind as he laced his hand with yours.

or when he’d admire you sleeping because you just looked so perfect, despite the mascara stains under your eyes and your messy hair, you were still utterly perfect to draco.

“i love you, draco.”

the boys eyes flashed to yours in a heartbeat, his breathing hitched as he looked for any uncertainty.

a smile took over your face as you scooted closer to him, draco doing the same until your knees were touching.

“i love you too, y/n.”

you’ve dreamed of draco saying those words before, but you weren’t actually expecting him to. quite frankly you weren’t sure if he was capable of showing that type of love—verbally of course.

“so...are we—”

“dating?” he cut off, a small blush appearing on your face as you nodded.

“if that’s what you want.”

“i want that” you smiled, draco’s face coming closer to yours as his nose touched yours, brushing it ever so slightly making you blush deeper.

“good. and don’t worry, i’ll ask you out properly with flowers and gifts later.”

“draco, no—” you whined, your head falling back as he chuckled from in front of you.

you felt his fingers graze your chin before bringing it down, a smirk on his beautiful face as his eyes locked with yours.

“it’s not up for debate, you deserve the world and i plan on giving it to you.”

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🏷 @dracomalfoys-wh0re @fjorelaant @eunoniaa @xlauren-malfoyx @90smalfoy @astoria-malfcy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @dracosbaibe @skaratjung @1800-shutup @wh0re4blaise @riddleswh0r3crux @thatsassyhufflepuff @dreamxnotxfound @drachoesimp @marrymetheonott @elevatorsdoor @pinkandblueblurbs @dlmmdl @letmereadpls @dagirlintheback @onyourgoddamnleft @moonyinthelight @turn-to-page-394-please @samineisntmyname @elizabethrosedarling @authorb @justasmolballofstress @persephonestoad @escapingrealitybyreading @happydazzz123 @adnaweasley @harrysamortentia @funnikusu @fleursbabe @666cookies @sluttylea @fragmentsofmywand @miss-starkov @henqtic @glossygranger @harmqnia @bakugosbunny @teenwolfbitches28 @steveharringtonswhore @reinecoffee

#harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n

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tartagliaxx · 3 years

Text

“ VENTI VENTING WHILE VENTING ”

━━ ☆ PAIRING: venti/reader ft. others

━━ ☆ GENRE: fluff, humor

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: you just want to play 'among us' in peace but venti’s orchestra tea — and his pretty face — were really making it hard to focus.

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: college!au

home was far away.

it was a few steps away from you or perhaps your eyes were deceiving you and it was actually across the seven seas. none of your contradicting thoughts mattered when it didn't change the fact that it felt unreachable. you've been back to your family home quite a few times already; same sheets, same stained wallpaper, same instant coffee scent every seven in the morning. nothing should've changed but everything did. in the backburner of your mind was the mock defense you'd have the following week. somewhere closer was your eight-paged paper about some topic you already forgot. it was a weight you never had before and for some reason, the wings you once held with pride as you dashed along the halls of your familiar haven became clipped — the same way the lights dimmed and the colors faded.

but he was there and he made it feel like change was alright and that if home was far away, then all you had to do was craft a new one. you argued that one doesn't just 'craft' a home. it's not something you chant and 'voila!' it's there nor is it a pile of lego bricks stacked as you hum a nursery rhyme. he took that to heart, you supposed as you found yourself being dragged to the nearest craft store that was thankfully open 24/7. he was a peculiar one — your roommate — but he carried an air of childish innocence that had your bound wings struggling for freedom.

before you knew it, home was very close to your heart.

you huffed in amusement as your eyes trailed over the apple cinnamon-scented candle that venti insisted you must have. he was quite persuasive with his argument — something about a potential apple crisis that would deprive you of all apple-related products. he was an idiot but his idiocy made you happy so you tend to brush him off.

"are you still there?" childe, a guy from your year that got himself into his own share of troubles on the regular, suddenly asked and you found yourself jumping up to press the 'unmute' button on your laptop.

"yeah... sorry, i dozed off for a bit."

"that's so sus!"

you laughed in bewilderment, inching closer to the edge of your seat as if you were preparing to have a debate with the poor guy. good. you could use some practice for your presentation next week.

"don't go sus-ing random people just because—"

"that's enough," a deeper voice — this time belonging to your senior, zhongli, who also happens to be venti's 'bestest friend aside from you,' "we still need to figure out who murdered aether."

"i bet it's childe—" "lumine!"

"no but seriously! everything about him is dubious! we might as well eject him now!"

"and if we're wrong?" kaeya didn't sound like he's trying very hard to help childe escape his inevitable execution.

and to childe's mortification, "i mean... it'll make for a good meme."

"lumine!" was aether's twin sister who was significantly smarter than he was but also spectacularly more hotheaded. she was sweet to you though which makes her strange hatred for childe even more fascinating. this was the third time she attempted to dispose of him. she succeeded both times prior.

"are you guys actually serious? it's not me! why is it always me? why don't you doubt zhongli for a change? do you even want to win!?"

"nah." "not really." "nope!" "i don't really care."

"you know what? fine. kick me out. deport me. but i'm telling you this: you're all wrong. you're—!"

childe was not the impostor. two impostors remain.

"oh... welp... rest in peace childe."

"f in the chat."

a sudden scream got you jumping up in fright only to fall back with an 'umph!' as venti threw his body to yours. "you would not believe what i just witnessed!"

"venti," you sighed before relenting and running a hand through his hair, "i'm playing."

"but you need to hear this! i swear! it's the funniest thing you'll ever hear in your entire life!"

you couldn't help but laugh as venti whined, tugging the edges of your sleeves lightly as if beckoning for your attention — which he was. cute.

"it better be worth it."

"oh it's so worth it."

he's energetic and wild but he's never... sinister. the chuckle that left his lips had you questioning his true personality. "being a music major has its perks, i'm telling you! i was in orchestra rehearsal — as i told you if you were actually listening to me and not to that one tiktoker you found that's just plain gross."

"i was—"

"anyway, one of the second violinists took a nap while the conductor was working with the trombones. obviously, that's rude. you don't sleep in the middle of practice just because the attention's not on you, right?"

you briefly glanced at venti who was enthusiastically waving his arms before you went back to connecting the brightly colored wires from one point to the other.

"hey! are you even listening to me?"

"yeah, i was!"

"oh really?" he didn't seem to be too impressed with you, if the pout and crossed arms were anything to go by. "what did i last say huh?"

"uhh... something about the first violin trying to wake the second violin up but they only shrugged them off?"

"huh..." he dropped his arms in surprise, "you really were listening."

you rolled your eyes in subtle amusement before motioning for him to go on, finally getting invested in his story. it wasn't hard to do so, not when venti was a naturally gifted storyteller who had his way of transfixing his audience even if his story didn't even make half as much sense as cereal and water did.

"well, the first violin didn't like that. at all. so they end up raising their hand and calling for the conductor's attention."

"wait." you gasped in horror as you looked away from the security cameras showed on your screen. "you're telling me they snitched?"

"yup! and there's more to it. obviously, the conductor was mad but they went out of the way to single them out. i won't bore you with the technicalities but basically, they made them stand up in front of the entire orchestra and told them that they had no 'eyes' to follow their gestures, no 'ears' to pick up the right entry and that they should just quit being a musician."

"wait... is that even legal? like that doesn't sound very professional."

"that's because it isn't! but that's not the end of it yet! after the conductor stormed off, the second violinist went up to the first violinist and—"

"let me guess. they punched them?" you huffed out as you followed after zhongli's avatar, near one hundred percent sure that he wasn't an impostor.

"nope! they shoved them and they toppled over the music stand. i'm pretty sure they hit their head."

"you said your story's funny! this is just... concerning!"

"shush! i'm not yet finished! turns out they were exes!"

"no way..." you let out an incredulous laugh, placing down your phone in favor of staring at venti's wide grin.

"uhuh! that's how we reacted too! they started fighting in front of everyone and you know... dug up some deep, ancient secrets that really shouldn't have been told in public."

"oh god! look!" you shoved your hands to his face, all curled up and tense, "i'm cringing from the secondhand embarrassment!"

"see? and you weren't even there! like midway into their fight, the first violinist screamed — wait... are you muted?"

a beat.

a shared look.

a quick run to your voice chat.

"oh crap."

venti burst into a loud fit of laughter, nearly knocking over your forgotten books as he leaned over the coffee table for support. a part of you wanted him to at least be sympathetic but the rest of you simply found him endearing. in your defense, it was venti. it was venti — the same guy who composed a three-minute piece to celebrate your last semester's completion. the same guy who dropped a bucket of your favorite ice cream and its apple crumble variant on your lap when he hasn't heard from you for five hours straight. it was venti — the same guy who told you that you looked beautiful when you could barely open your eyes as strong gusts of wind rumpled your coat and it was the same guy who let you crawl into his lap as you sobbed about homesickness. you knew it. you knew that he was going to end up distracting you and you were all too willing to let him do so.

"you're such an—" a long wheeze from him that sent you into your own fit of laughter, "you such an idiot!"

you scoffed — but without any negative intent — before you threw that one wind sprite pillow that he got you for christmas at his face. "no, you!"

"what do you mean by that?!"

"you're the idiot! might i remind you... it wasn't me who forgot his instrument during the day of his busking performance."

"that was a one-time thing!" you quickly caught the pillow he threw back at you.

"uhuh... so we're just going to pretend that you didn't just ring me up at six am because you forgot everything but your instrument — sheet music and spare strings included?"

"now, you're just being petty!"

you giggled at venti's obnoxiously faux pout. an idiot — that was what he was. only an idiot or perhaps, a romantic whose head was far too deep in his own feelings, would not notice the way you tremble every time you interlock your fingers together during movie nights.

"what are you staring at? have you perhaps, fallen in love with me?"

yes. a thousand times, yes.

"think whatever you want... idiot."

a beat.

a shared look.

an understanding giddy smile and his hands finding purchase on your own.

the loud beeping of the reactor had you blinking away from your daze but you didn't make a move to help out. well, not like you could even if you wanted to. venti had already placed himself on your lap, hugging you tightly and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck with a whisper of 'finally.'

it was rare for venti to have nothing to say, you chuckled as you brushed away his braids that were tickling the patch of skin on your collarbone, but the silence didn't seem too bad. in fact, it felt all too fitting after the series of loud gestures of affection that you both insisted were just a platonic dormmates thing.

"so..." you looked up in surprise as someone unmuted despite not being called into a meeting. "what happened next?"

a pause.

"zhongli... we could hear the stabbing sound effect in the background...."

"oh."

"I CALLED IT! I FREAKING CALLED IT!"

━━ ☆ NOTES: i watched too much twoset but somehow, i'm still not funny. also, haha... venti, in fact, didn't vent.

━━ ☆ SIMILAR WORKS: college!au masterlist

#genshin #genshin imagine #genshin scenario #genshin oneshot #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact #gi x reader #venti #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti imagine #venti scenario #venti oneshot #˗ˋˏ°• stories from lady lei •°ˎˊ˗

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perhapsthanatos · 3 years

Text

04:42 am with jaehyun ♡

nct’s jaehyun x fem!reader (inspired by a personal experience)

alternate title: just when icarus plummets

genre: angst. non idol au. party!au.

word count: 600~

playlist: the less i know the better by tame impala, lobby by everett bird & *sobs quietly* by mom jeans.

warnings: mentions of other members (not a warning). post partying. mentions of alcohol & alcohol consumption. cursing. mentions of hickies and lipstick stains. talks shit about the conrad (a hotel), but this is fiction, im sure the conrad isnt actually shit. y/n is very mysterious. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: ok i know i said that u should expect a vampire!au :( & ugh another party burb (which came out later than expected, so sorry) :( i just miss experiencing fun shit w fellow idiots & people watching w friends while wasted :( ill warn u rn that this is not my best work, so tread lightly! also big thanks to @fullsunfluff for helping me out w the title & the plot, shes really cool pls check her out or else i will make sure u step on something wet with your white socks on in the next couple of hours (not a threat, a promise)! ALSO TO HELP UR IMAGINATION HERE YOU GO

it was an eventful cheap beer and rotgut liquor type of night, being constantly surrounded by jaded movements of the seemingly uncaring crowds. coaxed by johnny and his other friends to attend another one of their shitty house parties, jaehyun never knew what was to come of it. he honestly just thought that it was just gonna be another one of those nights, playing beer pong and staying in his little circle of popular and exclusive friends. but holy fuck, he really did underestimate how heavy he would feel afterwards, and not by the alcohol.

now, he clumsily stumbles back to his hotel holding his own hand with his body badly bruised from vertigo, out alone in the cold drizzling rain. his heart bleeds out furiously as if he’d just been stabbed.

somewhere in the middle of the night, he met a girl. it wouldn’t sound surprising due to the sheer amount of charm he effortlessly carries with him constantly, but only god knows that he is absolutely terrible at love. he is so bad at it, that it almost seemed like an actual curse for a hopeless romantic like him. but to be fair, as soon as he saw you, his first thought was that you were way too good to be true or just too good to become his anyway.

being with you (even if it was for just a couple hours) was like a one time high in all the best ways.

in a black skin-tight dress, you and jaehyun magically hit it off very well as if you were friends for the longest time and not strangers. you were an enigma, a beauty, a grace. he only seemed to be getting helplessly pulled into your orbit more and more. that was until you were gone in the snap of a finger (maybe even quicker).

to be blunt, he didn’t know what the fuck happened. did you guys just lose each other in the crowds? was there a miscommunication? were you doing this on purpose? were you nothing but a mere fraction of his imagination? was he too gone to notice? when he asked people around, why did no one have answers to you?

finally reaching the lobby of the conrad hotel he was staying in, he does a small walk of shame. employees and guests only stare at him in pity as he reaches the elevators to retreat to his room.

unlocking the door after a few attempts, he manages to get in. he takes off his damp coat to throw it off somewhere and he catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.

fucking hell.

he looks like a mess. his hair and clothes were disheveled and the gloom under his eyes are so dark, you could almost brew tea with them. but there was one thing that stood out to him.

there was a certain hue of red that stained his skin. it looked like some sort of sick and twisted masterpiece. it was on his lips and scattered all around his neck. his head subconsciously plays of supercut of how it got there, and again, all his thoughts travel back to you, the visions replaying over and over.

the pristine hotel room is off-putting. after being wasted and having such a messy night himself, the room looks too clean, making it hard to look at. it feels as if though he doesn’t belong.

but as uninviting the room may be, he still walks over to the desk to grab his notebook and a pen. he won't allow himself to not remember you when he is sober. he flips open to the first blank page he finds and hastily scribbles his every thought surrounding you, letting his mind become restless as it shows him versions of you in different dimensions until dawn breaks.

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mister-supernova · 4 years

Text

If I Saw You on the Street

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader - Platonic Josie Saltzman x Reader

After Malivore

For as long as you could remember, summer vacation was your absolute favorite time of the year. To your surprise, it’s actually been a huge drag for you this year. It wasn’t like this was the worst summer ever--you could think of a few others that could take that spot--but there was definitely something off that you couldn’t piece together.

For instance, no one has any idea as to how Landon destroyed Malivore, not even Landon himself. That whole day seemed to be a huge blur to all of the students. You remembered the bigger events like the school defeating Triad, but everyone seems to struggle when it comes to the smaller details.

In order to keep yourself busy, you decided to stay at the school and take a summer job at the Mystic Grill. Besides the fact that everyone else was back home with their families, the whole school had this off-putting sense of emptiness. The place has magic in the walls for crying out loud, you usually feel some sense of liveliness.

There was this one room in particular that you felt strangely drawn to. You had no idea why since you knew that no one stayed in that room this past year. At least, no one you knew anyways.

One day out of pure curiosity, you picked the lock to that room to see what was special about it.

Just as you expected, it was just a regular empty dorm that was probably going to be taken up by a new student during the fall. It looked like every other bedroom at the school, but this one felt familiar.

Something that caught you off guard was the scent that faintly lingered in the room. The best way you could describe it was something floral with a hint of sweetness and spice--vanilla and cinnamon maybe--and it wasn’t like anything else you had smelled in the school before.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave for the longest time. The urge to stay and wander trumped over the obvious choice that was to walk away.

Something happened here, you thought.

A few small drops of pastel blue paint chips stained the wooden floorboards and you wondered how the hell they got there given the rooms have white walls.

Instead of questioning it any deeper, you just assumed that a student who had this room before must’ve gotten the paint on the floor and the janitors hadn’t noticed it.

But how could they have missed that?

You stood there for what felt like hours, trying to piece together what it was that made this place have this unexplainable affect on you. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day digging through your brain for an answer that would never come.

At the end of the day, you knew nothing would come to mind no matter how hard you tried. It was like the answer was at the tip of your tongue, but your mind was radio silent.

Frustrated and defeated, you had to force yourself to leave the strange room. After that, you made yourself forget about that place completely for the rest of the summer and refused to ever return to it.

Whenever you weren’t at work, you spent time with Landon, Josie, and a wolfed-out Rafael which was fine in the beginning. Dorian gave you permission to shift in the woods on full moons for the summer so that Raf could talk to somebody and you guys could possibly get information on how to help him.

He definitely appreciated the company that you could provide, but alas he had no idea on how he could be turned back.

The happier times were the nights you four had weekly movie nights by the Old Mill. You all would alternate who would pick the movie to watch and Landon absolutely hated that you chose a horror movie every single time, but you loved hearing the phoenix boy screech with terror. Josie would get a good kick out of it, too and you were positive that you’d see Raf wag his tail every time Landon screamed.

During those small moments, things felt like they could possibly get back to normal, but once you stepped foot back in the school, you were lost again.

Your thoughts were much louder through the night. It would get so bad that you could barely get any sleep and the times that you would, you’d wake up screaming from a night terror.

There was one night when you were tossing and turning, you knocked on Josie’s door to ask if she knew some kind of incantation to get you to fall asleep. You were up for anything at that point, even letting her swing a frying pan over your head to knock you out.

Not wanting to hurt you or possibly kill you, Josie made you some sleepytime tea instead which actually helped a lot. It didn’t help so much with the vivid dreams you’ve been having, but you thought that it was better than getting no sleep at all.

Everything felt like it was going decently well until Raf decided to bow out once Josie and Landon started getting close. You wanted to curse at him for making you the third wheel, but you understood that he couldn’t wait here forever for some solution that could help him become human again. He had to move on somehow, especially seeing that his best friend seemed to be moving on, too.

Regardless, you started feeling awkward hanging out with just the two of them. They wanted to include you during their weekly movie nights, but you’d just make up some excuse that you had to be up early for work the next morning.

Landon--damn him for knowing your work schedule--could tell that you were bullshitting, but he didn’t want to force you into doing something you didn’t want to do.

You tried busying yourself with other activities like running through the woods, canoeing in the lake, taking extra shifts at work, binge eating all the good snacks in the kitchen; you even got yourself into drawing and painting for some weird reason, but no matter what you did, there was still something missing.

Towards the end of the summer, you didn’t feel like your usual jokester self. Sure, you’d throw out a line of sarcasm or make a witty comment here and there, but most of it would sound forced. You’d mainly do it so that Josie and Landon wouldn’t worry about you so much, but Josie quickly picked up on your facade.

They really wanted to help you figure out what was making you feel this way, but as much as you appreciate their help, there was nothing they could do. How could they figure out what was wrong if you didn’t even know for yourself?

One day after your shift at work, you decided to do something you never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever do.

You started cleaning your room.

Josie volunteered to help even though you assured her you’d be fine doing it alone. She bribed you by saying she’d buy you a milkshake if you let her help, so without another word, you agreed to let her stay and assist.

“Gosh, do you throw out any of your old assignments?” Josie asks as she rummages through your desk drawers, “This is an algebra one paper from three years ago, Y/n,” she says, flashing your old homework assignment with a huge F circled in the front.

“Hey, less judging and more cleaning.” You say, digging through your dresser for clothes you don’t wear anymore.

“Did you try writing a reminder for a history test or something?”

You furrow your eyebrows before turning to look at Jo, “What do you mean?”

“You have this post-it note that says “Don’t forget H”, but that’s all that’s written,” she holds up the note and from the other side of your bed, you read exactly what she had said.

It definitely looked like you tried scribbling another letter after the H, but it ended up being a long messy squiggle, “Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug, “Probably. I must’ve been half asleep when I wrote it though because I have no clue when I did that.”

Josie puffs her lip out in confusion, “Well. I would be surprised by that, but judging by the ten cans of energy drinks I just tossed out, it’s not so surprising to hear that your memory is a little fuzzy.”

You drop your jaw in shock, “Is today Judge Y/n Day and I wasn’t made aware of it? You asked to help clean my room Jo, now save your judgments for another day please.”

Josie playfully rolls her eyes at you, followed by a small chuckle, “Toss?” She asks, ready to crumple the piece of paper up. You take a second to answer back, wondering whether or not if you did forget some history assignment or maybe something even bigger than that.

“Sure,” you feel your stomach churn seeing her throw the note in the trash bag, but there was no taking it back now.

Another few minutes of silence pass until Josie speaks up, “Since when do you draw?”

You look back up from your clothes to see Jo now holding up a sketchbook you snagged at the lost and found a few weeks ago. It was brand new and untouched, so you thought to yourself “why not?”.

After explaining that to Josie, she flipped through some of the first few pages. You were no Leonardo DiCaprio--or whatever that painter guy’s name was--but you thought you were decent with your sketches.

“These are really good, Y/n. Did you just think of these by yourself?” She asks, talking about the drawings you had of a girl you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

You could only see parts of the girl’s face. Mostly you’ve only been able to clearly see features like her eyes and hair, so most of the pages were taken up by a pair of blue eyes and waves of auburn hair.

“Not really. I’ve been having these really vivid dreams lately.” You tell Josie.

“This is who you see?” She looks down at the pages again, “Who is that? She doesn't look like anyone we know.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either. She’s all I’ve been seeing, though.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve found yourself a hidden talent.” Josie smiles, gently setting the book back down on the desk, “And maybe she’s your soulmate,” she teases.

You just roll your eyes with a small smile and get back to your tasks.

Like a girl that beautiful could even exist let alone talk to me, you think to yourself.

As you continue sorting through your clothes, you notice a pair of sweats that look almost smaller than half your size.

“Uh, Jo?” She turns to your attention, “These aren’t yours, are they?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “How short do you think I am? I think my legs are a little longer than whoever those are.”

“Well, they’re not mine, obviously. How’d they get into my drawer?”

“Maybe they belonged to whoever lived in this dorm before you?” Josie shrugs.

“But the dresser was completely empty when I moved in,” you think for a moment, now questioning everything, “At least, I thought it was. I would think that I would’ve taken these out if they were here. Why would I keep a pair of sweatpants that I don’t fit in?”

“You do a lot of questionable things, you know. Like that one time you jumped through a bonfire wondering how hot it really was or when you tried to do a backflip off the roof of the school and into the pool or the time you “drank” a beer through your-”

You raise your hands in surrender and cut her off before she could finish, “Okay, I get it! I do stupid shit. The sweatpants belonged to whoever lived in here before I moved in and I didn’t take them out of the drawer. Case closed. Swiftly moving on.”

You were positive they weren’t there when you moved in, but there weren’t any other reasons you could think of as to how they got into your dresser.

Seconds before you tossed it back into the bottom of your drawer, your nose barely caught the same sweet and spicy floral scent that you recalled smelling in the strange room. Breathing it in again brought back that memory of being mentally lost in that room, but oddly enough this time it made you feel calm.

After another hour passed you and Josie ended up filling three bags of trash, one of them recycled trash, and one large donation box of clothes.

You didn’t waste any time reminding her that she owed you a milkshake. She kind of hoped that you would’ve forgotten about your deal, but she was a woman of her word.

You made a “compromise” to take your box of clothes over to the donating center on the other side of the town square while Josie bought the milkshakes.

Your task was a lot quicker than Josie’s since it was pretty much rush hour at the Grill right now, so you waited for her on one of the benches in the square.

Sitting by yourself with nothing else to do but wait, you couldn’t help but feel that empty feeling return. The emptiness never hit you all at once, but it definitely drained the hell out of you.

Again, you felt stumped. Like there’s somewhere you should be or something you should be doing or someone you should be with. You knew Josie was going to be back any minute, but that wasn’t what was missing.

You anxiously looked toward the Mystic Grill, feeling your breaths becoming more and more shallow as every second passes. You started wishing Josie would walk out so that all your worries could just go away.

Then--almost like you knew right where to look--your gaze stopped when you noticed someone looking at you from where you just came from on the other side of the town square.

You couldn’t make out her facial features from so far away, but it was the auburn color of her hair that stuck out to you more than anything. For a moment--and just for a moment--all the weight that had been weighing on your shoulders this summer felt much lighter and everything felt okay again.

“One cookies and cream milkshake,” Josie’s voice startles you and you face her abruptly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles, lending you your milkshake.

“No, you’re good. I was just…” you look back to the spot you saw the girl only to find that she was gone, “I was just lost in thought.”

You had no idea what just happened or how you seemed to have possibly seen the girl from your dreams, but just a glimpse of her made you feel more emotions than you have all summer long. Because of that, a huge part of you hoped that you would see her again.

heyyyyyy beautiful people! thanks for over 100 likes on This Isn’t Goodbye you guys gals and nb pals! i’m super super happy that you’ve been enjoying this series so far! still have no idea how many more parts this will be just yet lol but i really appreciate every one of you for the love <3

*also the title was inspired by the song Dreams Tonite by Alvvays in case you were curious ;)*

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson imagine #legacies imagine #legacies x reader #legacies cw #legacies

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bi-bard · 4 years

Text

An Extra Dose of Chaos- Malcolm Bright Imagine (Prodigal Son/Criminal Minds Crossover)

Title: An Extra Dose of Chaos

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,861 words

Warning(s): Violence in canon of both shows

Summary: (Starts on season 13, episode 7 of Criminal Minds) The BAU found themselves in a time of need after their final confrontation with Scratch. Though absolutely devastated by the loss of Stephen Walker, (Y/n) was somewhat excited to not be seen as the new kid anymore when Malcolm Bright was brought on to the team. Now, if he could just stop making such a mess of things...

Author’s Note: THERE MAY BE A PART 2 OF THIS BUT I’M NOTE SURE YET! It took a long time but... I found a way to connect them! I am so excited! Also, I doubt Malcolm would’ve lasted this long in the B.A.U but this is the best way to put him in the story without using two seasons that were airing at the same time (Season 1 of Prodigal Son and season 15 of Criminal Minds)

Please consider supporting my Ko-fi account. It would mean a lot to me. If I know there are people interested in it, I’ll get the monthly donation part set up.

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0

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

I let out a sigh as I walked to the round table. Another day without Stephen. We had both joined the team around the same time, but I was still declared a new kid because he beat me here by about a month. Garcia had given Luke the official title but I still felt it whenever we were debriefed on a case. Stephen gave me someone to relate to.

I looked over to the door as J.J walked in. She grinned at me.

“Emily hired a new agent,” she said. I nodded. “How are you?”

“Shaky but desperate to get some work done,” I replied, forcing a smile. I knew she was going to say more but luckily the team walked in before she could.

Emily stayed standing as everyone got settled in their seats.

“Everyone, this Malcolm Bright, he’s our new agent,” she said, pointing at the man standing next to her. He waved. Emily and him made their way to their seats. “Take it away, Garcia.”

Malcolm had sat in the spot right next to me. I glanced over at him while he read the case file. He seemed... giddy? That wasn’t the right word but I don’t think there was a better one. Something that should’ve disturbed him just... didn’t.

It was a strange case. Victims were kidnapped, had symbols carved into their faces, and then were found in their cars but miles away from where they were last seen. All without any memory of what had happened to them.

“Alright, wheels up in 30,” Emily said before standing. Everyone followed close behind her.

“Hey, Malcolm,” I said, stopping the new guy before he left. “How are you feeling? I know some of this stuff can feel overwhelming on the first day.”

“I’m alright,” he replied. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

“When,” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together for a moment.

“Oh, y’know, research for school and such,” he shrugged the question off. “I’ve gotta get my go bag.”

“Okay, see you on the jet.”

“We have our own jet?”

--Time Skip--

“Spencer,” I said, looking at the photos of one of the victim’s injuries. “These can’t be taser or stun gun marks.”

“Why,” the doctor in front of us asked.

“They usually burn the skin around the radius of the mark,” I replied. “There’s no burn mark.”

“Did the victim report a metallic taste in her mouth,” Spencer asked as Malcolm looked over my shoulder at the photos.

“They’re probably snake bites,” Malcolm noted, cutting the doctor off a little bit. “Blood tests would show if there was any venom present.”

Spencer turned around and listed off a few blood tests that I could never remember. I closed the file.

“A snake as a way to subdue a victim, that’s risky,” I said, looking at Malcolm.

“Hot day, lock the snake in the car, and wait,” he mumbled. “It leaves a lot to chance. This is the element that matters. There’s no way a snake is a weapon of opportunity.”

“If it’s a dangerous reptile, there’d be records of licenses,” I said as we followed Spencer out of the hospital. “Once we have the kind of snake, we could ask Garcia to cross-reference.”

“Except if it was bought on the black market,” Malcolm added.

“You do not know Garcia,” I smirked, picking up my pace to keep up with Spencer. Damn this boy and his gazelle legs.

“She seems delightful,” Malcolm shrugged. None of us spoke again until we were in the car. “So... why does this guy choose body modification? Why specifically the scarring? Surely tattoos would have a similar effect to the women’s self-worth.”

“I don’t know yet,” Spencer replied. “I say we relay what we know to the team and see what they say.”

We both nodded, waiting for him to start the car.

--Time Skip--

I wondered why my heart could beat so fast yet I could look so calm when we got to crime scenes. It was like my fear responses stopped halfway. I’m sure there was a reason for it but there are some things you think about but don’t really want the answers to.

I took a deep breath as the car stopped. I unbuckled quickly. We had split up. Matt, J.J, Malcolm, and me in one car; Rossi, Spencer, and Luke in the other. Emily stayed back at the police station to help us out as much as possible.

Matt and J.J went around the back to keep watch. Malcolm and I got to the front door. I was just about to lay my hand on the doorknob so we could be smart about this...

and then Malcolm sprinted in. No count, no warning, he just ran in without any warning.

“Malcolm,” I hissed, following him quickly. What the hell was wrong with him.

I barely got there at the same time as him when he busted the door down.

“F.B.I,” I shouted, actually doing my job. I followed him inside.

He didn’t have his gun aimed. Did he have it out when he first ran in? I kept my gun fixed on Desi- the unsub- who was just staring at us. Her mom tied to a chair and her sister trapped on one of the seats you’d see in a tattoo parlor.

“Desi, drop the knife,” Malcolm said, holding his gun up.

“You- You don’t know what she did to me,” she replied.

“We do,” he nodded. “We know about the neglect and... and the abuse.”

“I was so scared,” she was whispering.

“Who wouldn’t be,” I asked. “You were just a kid-”

“I tried so hard to erase any sign of her,” she continued. “And there she is on the front page. They think she’s perfect.”

My eyes drifted towards the snakes in the room.

“The perfect woman! The perfect mother! They don’t know what she’s capable of... what I’m capable of.”

“We know,” Malcolm nodded, grinning at her. “I also know that if you surrender and we walk out of here, everyone else will know too. She’ll have to live with that. Isn’t that what you wanted? For your mom to live with the shame of all of this?”

Desi went to move forward, towards the snakes.

“Desi,” I said firmly. She stopped... for a moment. She then ran at the container, shoving it towards the ground before sprinting out the other door.

“Help her mom,” I shouted, walking over to her sister. “Hey, stay with me, yeah? We’re gonna get you help.”

I went to call for an ambulance, only stopping for a second when I heard gunshots. I shook it off, calling the ambulance before helping her sister up and out of the room. Malcolm had already left with her mom.

--Time Skip--

We were all on the jet later that night. Some of the team was playing poker, others just relaxing. I was lounging on the small jet couch, cradling a mug of tea.

“Hey,” Malcolm said softly, sitting next to me. I nodded as a way to acknowledge him. “I’ve only known you for a few days but I can already tell that silence is not a good sign.”

“You ran into the house with any regard for safety,” I replied. “Your gun wasn’t drawn, you didn’t wait for back-up and was just lucky I was there, and you ran into an active crime scene without announcing that you were the F.B.I.”

“I did almost everything wrong.”

“Pretty much,” I sighed. “But you did a good job reasoning with Desi. As good of a job as any of us probably could.”

“Well, I’m sorry about what happened... but can I ask something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you so worried,” he asked. “I’d say you were angry but you aren’t displaying all of the signs of anger and you can’t just be nervous about the unsub because the event is over with.”

“I was the new kid before you,” I explained, already questioning whether or not I was ready to talk about this. “Around the same time I joined, Stephen Walker did. The team was looking for this serial killer that called himself Mr. Scratch. We thought we had found him and we knew the house was safe... we thought we were gonna catch him. Then, I think he laid spike in the road. Our cars crashed into each other. It was bad. Emily was kidnapped, the rest of us unconscious... except for Stephen. He died in that accident before they’d even found the cars. I had to tell his wife. I couldn’t even look to my right on my way home because her tears had stained my shirt. I lost the person I was closest to on the team.”

“Now you see another new kid running into snake dens like it’s no big deal,” Malcolm concluded. I nodded.

“It makes me really nervous,” I looked down.

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly. I shook my head.

“It’s alright,” I looked back up at him. “Just... please don’t do something like that again.”

“... I’ll do my best.”

I chuckled at his hesitation. If all went well, Malcolm would fit in just fine.

--Time Skip (In Between Seasons 14 & 15)--

“Hey,” I said as Malcolm walked over to his desk. He had yet another meeting with Emily and Cruz. This time it went a step further. “How’d it go?”

“I had a meeting to explain my actions,” he explained, grabbing his go-bag. It was pretty much the only thing he had at his desk. “And they fired me.”

“What,” I asked. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Are you surprised that it happened or are you surprised that it happened?”

“You did punch a sheriff,” I trailed off.

Malcolm nodded and started walking toward the elevator. I stood up and followed him quickly.

“Where are you gonna go,” I asked.

“Probably back to New York,” he shrugged. “My mom wants me back there anyway.”

“Oh,” I nodded. I wanted him to stay closer. I wanted to see him. I looked down nervously as we waited for the elevator. “It’s gonna be boring without you here.”

“Always kept you on your toes,” he chuckled. The elevator dinged. “You should come visit. Just give me a call.”

“Okay,” I replied. I was going to just wave but then jumped when Malcolm quickly kissed my cheek and stepped into the elevator. I could only watch in shock as the elevator doors closed.

“Did that just happen,” Garcia asked, walking over to me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at her. “Oh my god!”

“Go talk to him,” she shouted as the other elevator opened. I ran in, waving at her and telling her to let Emily know where I went.

What I didn’t see was J.J walk up to Garcia after the elevator doors closed.

“What’s (Y/n) doing,” she asked. Garcia just grinned.

“Proving that you owe me twenty bucks,” she replied.

“No he didn’t,” J.J said. Garcia nodded. “I’m waiting for (Y/n) to confirm that before I give you money.”

“(Y/n) might still be in shock when they get up here.”

...and maybe I was.

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

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ponds-of-ink · 3 years

Text

FNAF UCN but Second Person: “Taking a Sick… Nightshift”

So, um, yes. This is one of those Your/Name deals, thanks to a post I found with this suggestion. Have fun trying to taking this for a spin.

You hobble into the main office, with the Purple Guy himself sitting at his desk. You watch as he shuffles his papers, almost as if he has no idea you’re there. Your feelings collide with many others. One is panicking, another part is confused, while yet another is impatient. Such emotions all at once would be puzzling to normal people, but not you. Being a robotic ghost… thing that housed many people’s thoughts through these real-time situations, it made sense. It was a wonder that old-timer Afton didn’t find you odd. Or, at least, much odder than the scares Golden Freddy dished out.

Anyway, you had to put all these thoughts aside. You clear your sore throat, hoping that would get his attention. Fortunately for you, it does. He look up from his work. “Oh, hello…” he starts before hesitating. He lifts a pointer finger into the air while digging through his desk. Once satisfied, he pulls out a yellow-pad notebook. “Y/N!” he exclaims triumphantly, turning the pad around to show a literal “Y”, slash symbol, and “N” loosely scrawled out. “That’s your robotic name, isn’t it?”

You slowly nod, but could feel the confusion growing stronger. “Yes, but I’d like for you to say an actual name,” you admit softly, your metallic voice hiding any traces of pure identity.

William scowls. He places the notepad down on the desk right before your eyes. “Well, given the fact that you have so many names stored in that database, I’m afraid I can’t do such a thing,” he sighs, his hands rubbing against his forehead. “Especially not after the string of failures I’m having. I—“

His eyes open. He looks back up at you. His pupils shrink while his face loses that ever-rosy glow. “But forget about me for a moment,” he sputters, hurrying to his feet. “You look as sickly as I did when I was Dave Miller! What happened?”

“I just got sick,” you explain, struggling to not blow your voice box with a cough. “I mean, whatever’s the closest to it I can get. Like… a common cold but mechanical.”

The tall man steps to your side, inspecting you up and down. He lifts your arm, signaling a few automatic diagnostics. You can feel the viewers’ emotions rising again as he mutters some numbers. Oh, great. Are you blushing over his voice again? Or still trying to understand your own biology? Or are you just trying to comprehend the “Who? What? Where? And Why?” of it all? Regardless, these emotions aren’t powerful enough to break through your robotic self. At least, not as far as either of you can tell.

“Must be a calibration issue mixed with a ‘cold’,” William concludes, lowering your arm back down. He taps his fingers on his hip. His foot thumps like an irritated rabbit. Then, after a minute or so, his eyes light up. “Whenever I was sick, I always heated up some tea and take the day off,” he says confidently, wagging his other pointer finger in-time with his words. “If you can take fluids without frying your circuits, you’ll be back to full strength in no time!”

“But what about the calibration?” you ask as you see him opening the security door and rushing out into one of the hallways.

“Rest will do wonders with that!” you can hear him call out, his voice growing more and more distant. You stare at the open door for a few more seconds, then glance about the room. There are so many random knickknacks, but only one real chair. You think, gauge the responses, then sit down in that wheeled seat… For better or for worse, depending on general consensus.

Since you weren’t planning on using it for long, though, you decide to lean forward and skim the papers. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything private. Just frantic notes detailing animatronic behavior. Writings like “Funtime Foxy: Check the time, don’t be late (again!)” or “How do you solve a problem like an angry Music Man?” You notice Scrap Baby and Circus Baby both have tear stains on their pages, but you think that’s sort of understandable… Maybe. Or is it downright “Pfft, what a baby” energy you’re feeling? You sigh, almost pulling a similar pose to what Afton did a couple of minutes ago. Your hands rub on your metallic, but throbbing forehead. All this processing starts to feel overwhelming. You need a break.

Thankfully, the familiar dog-whistle of a tea kettle stops this conflict of emotion in its tracks. You get up slowly, knowing where this could lead. You return to your old spot, struggling to stand in place but somehow overcoming this problem. William, like some silver-plated knight rushing to your (frankly pathetic?) rescue, quickly enters in with tea kettle and tea-set in both hands. He placed the set on the desk and began the proper procedure. However, as if to remind that he wasn’t much of a hero (or much of a tea drinker these days), the still-hot drink almost burns him as he hastily pours out some for your cup. “I forgot that the water should be flowing out nice and slow,” he admits, raising the kettle to curb the liquid’s speed. “Speaking of which, I’m still wondering if this is all right to do. Am I… allowed to give you any drinks, or would that harm your system?”

“I can drink like a normal human,” you admit casually, finally getting a clear emotion out. “I can eat too, if you want to get some snacks to go with our tea.”

William lays the kettle on the desk, stares at you quizzically, then shrugs. “I could get you something from the vending machine,” he replied as if that didn’t just confuse him for a second. “Unfortunately, the only thing that resembles a tea cake are those Chica Lemon Bars. And, since I haven’t beaten a round of Cassidy’s game in a while, I don’t think I have enough Faz-Coins for us both. Besides, even if I did, it wouldn’t be good for your cold. We’re supposed to starve it, if I remember the old adage correctly.”

“Then what about you?” you ask him as you advance to your teacup. “Maybe you need a snack more than I do.”

This remark of yours makes him stifle a burst of laughter. “Perhaps, but I certainly don’t look like it,” he grinned sheepishly, his fingers now tapping the side of his huge stomach.

You double-take in spite of yourself. Then, you roll your eyes. Cassidy trapped him in that form again, didn’t she? That chubby form that looked sort of like how that one book described him. As you battled the growing emotions now swirling due to this revelation, you calmly take a sip of your tea. “Hey, would you mind getting a chair and an ice pack?” you inquire of him. “I think I’m gonna need both for a bit.”

You watch as William processes your question, then bites his lower lip. “S-Sure,” he mutters, his face visibly beet-red. “I’m so sorry, I—“

“Don’t be,” you tell him, fighting the oncoming panic for dear life. “I forgot that I have a literal live chat for a brain too.”

The purple man exhales, wiping the sweat off his brow. After a moment of recollecting himself, he picks up the tea kettle while repeating your requests over and over under his breath. You can still hear him as he leaves the room once again. You look down at the tea set. There are two cups, but just one is filled. You shake your head. How in the world does the man behind the slaughter remember his kids after thirty years in isolation, yet forgets to fill his own teacup before taking away the kettle? You place your head in your hands. This was going to be a loooong night in UCN, wasn’t it?

#william afton #fnaf ucn #second person #fnaf y/n #but you’re a cyborg #with a literal live chat rattling around #im sorry but #this came to mind while figuring out what to write lol

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elenamegan14 · 4 years

Text

Twisted Wonderland: Headcanons for Dorm Haunted Houses Pt.3 - Heartsyabul

MASTERLIST

Part 2

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(Play at 0.75 speed for full effect)

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THE ATTRACTION:

Heartsyabul’s theme is a creepy Wonderland Garden.

Guests and students alike first entered an abandoned greenhouse, filled with decaying flowers, bloodied pitchforks and traces of shattered pocket watches and pastries can be seen. The guests are led deeper into the greenhouse, where the plants become creepier: living flowers with faces on them that moans and groans, dreadful man-eating plants, snapping venus flytraps that almost bites at unsuspecting guests and students, doll’s eyes plants, dracula orchids, ghost plants, poisonous fungus that exhumes putrid pollens and corrosive giant pitcher plants.

Guests are unnerved by “victims” of the plants itself: one “victim” is dying when half of their bodies are melted off by the acids, another one begged for their lives at the jaws of venus flytraps… and some had become hybrid fungus zombies that jumped out and scare people along the way.

After escaping the treacherous greenhouse, the guests have arrived at the-

Rose maze. Twisted rose maze. Also, it’s foggy as well. Remember that time when Riddle Overblot and the rose maze garden just turn dark, spooky and roses are sort of dead? Well then- imagine that atmosphere elevated UP TO ELEVEN.

I’m talking about thorny vines, dead roses dipped in red-blood paint, endless hedges filled with it. Oh, and there are random heads everywhere - WHY ARE THERE RANDOM HEADS EVERYWHERE???

If it’s not on the tea party table, then it’s mounted on a pike. It looked realistic too, so guests and students are really unnerved when they enter.

The centerpiece of their garden labyrinth is a floating garden that served as the execution site, where the “Red Queen” gleefully declared everyone unfortunate to come across him as permanently EXECUTED. It was surrounded by a moat, a top of crimson waters filled with heads and headless bodies.

It’s like the Disney version of American McGee’s Alice.

Trey is, of course, the host. He dressed like a Mad Hatter, all dapper with a playing card motif and BLOODIED.

He’s waiting for guests and students alike at the first part of the maze - a botanical tea party filled with card attendants.

He encouraged the students to eat and drink his specially made treats. Strawberry tarts so red like blood, suspiciously red tea, an assortment of petit fours and macarons between blood-stained teapots…

Why do they have boxed presents at the tea party? Hey, look, we can actually pick it up and see what’s underneath it! Oh, what a cute teapot! Oooh! A dormouse plush! Oooh! This one’s a-

“BOO!” A Cater head cackled like a maniac when a present is lifted, eliciting screams everywhere from students and guests alike.

Cater uses his clones to do the job of terrifying the guests and students alike.

He carefully arranged his clones to position themselves where their bodies are hidden, either using optical illusion, under the bush or even sometimes using invisibility magic, so that only his “heads” are moving.

Cater is having a blast at taking horrified pictures of guests and students alike. People considered it an honor to enter Cater’s official “Scream-of-Fame” page on his MagiGram. His favorites so far are either Grimm or Ace - they have the best reactions out of all the students entering the haunted house.

Riddle’s costume is elegantly terrifying. It seems that his Overblot form gives him ideas because his costume as the “Red Queen '' is regal, with spider-like motifs, tattered fabrics, and plenty of playing card references. His crown is also drenched with red paint, his makeup is adorned with black, red, and gold paints and black tears falling from it. According to the lore that the dorm had set for their haunted house, the “Red Queen” shed tears of sorrow after his subjects failed to show up, vowing to take revenge on them all.

Oh, and yes, he does have a shiny, large, ax that he was ready to “hack” people to pieces with.

NO ONE ESCAPES FROM RIDDLE. Either they’re too scared to run or they’re begging for their prefect to come to his senses and spare them. Riddle punished the students for trying to break his character.

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THE MISSION:

The host grimly told the students that the “Red Queen” is on a rampage because EVERYONE IS LATE FOR THE UNBIRTHDAY TEA PARTY (this opened up the traumatic wounds in Ace’s memory), and he’s currently in the maze looking for someone to behead. Their first mission is to find a key inside one of the teapots or presents by lifting them one by one. After the key is found, they need to find a way out of the maze to retrieve the charm on the dead center of the execution/trial ground.

Oh, and one more thing: SCREAMING WILL ONLY SUMMON THE RED QUEEN’S CARD EXECUTIONERS OR THE RED QUEEN HIMSELF TO YOUR LOCATION. They’re dead serious.

Okay, now the fun starts.

It seems that while the jumpscares remained the same, the second and third years on Heartsyabul’s haunted house staff took this as a chance to TORMENT the first years.

They touched, breathed, and even chased them all around the garden house. Already several people are running away back to the exit or pissing themselves.

Because MC is an easy target for them, one of the fungus zombies takes the opportunity to skim his hands across MC’s waist, even lower-

Jack kicked the poor guy in the balls, Deuce makes a mental note to report to Riddle for inappropriate misconduct.

During their excursion on the maze, Deuce had commented how realistic looking these heads are.

Someone suspiciously approached a realistic-looking head… when it suddenly blinks. Cater gave a mouthful of a bloodied grin at Ace.

“Found… A BODY!”

Cue skyward scream.

As expected, Riddle appeared out of nowhere, sporting a bloody grin, horrifying every student in the vicinity. “FULFILL YOUR PROMISE, TRAPPOLA! SPADE!” He cackled as he chased after the poor group, swinging his ax like a madman, with Ace frantically promising to Riddle that yes, he will behave and follow all the rules for the next two weeks of his life.

As promised, Ace and Deuce screamed the most, thus adding more scream points.

Of course, there was a parade of endless living “heads” on every hedge, either a clone of Cater or student actors, laughing and scaring every student and guests that came nearby. Be it on the pike, disguised as a flower, or even jumping out from behind the rose bush walls.

Ace had to jump onto Deuce like Scooby Doo and Shaggy - poor Deuce is carrying the shivering Ace all around the maze.

On top of that, the monsters and the “living heads” had continued to draw shrieks from the students and guests at inopportune times, that it also “summoned” Riddle or the actors dressed as Card Executioners straight to them.

Epel almost smashes a Cater head with a giant teapot nearby in surprise when he lifts one the boxed presents. It took nearly the effort of MC, Deuce, Ace, and Jack to stop the farm boy from committing homicide.

It’s a good thing too because this Cater head holds the key in his teeth.

MC tried to take it, but their hands got licked by the Carter head (almost sensually too) that they dropped the key back to its maw.

Deuce got his fingers bitten by the Cater head. MC’s group simultaneously closed Deuce’s mouth to keep him from screaming and drawing Riddle’s attention.

“Now, now, Prefect Riddle must say that either one of you have to scream-” Cater chided playfully.

“CAN YOU NOT?!”

Jack finally got the key after forcefully prying it from Cater’s mouth.

MC found poor Grimm hiding behind a card soldier prop. “Still thinking of going through this alone?” Nope, Grimm had enough of being “a lonely brave magician”. HE’LL GO WITH MC’S GROUP, WHEREVER THEY GO. Thus, one more party had been added.

Ah, yes, and to get the charm, they have to get across a red-blood moat towards the floating garden full of heads and “dead” bodies. On which “headless zombies” could spring out unannounced to drag you underwater. Good times.

Once they finally reached the center of the floating garden, they saw the charm locked inside a locked heart-shaped box. All that they need to do is use the key to get the first charm.

Do you think this is over? Riddle suddenly appears out of nowhere, carrying a bloodied ax and swung it at the unsuspecting MC who dodged it just in time, screaming “OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” in bloody murder.

Grimm swore he really DOES nearly lose his head (and half of his body. And his soul.).

“PREFECT RIDDLE, PLEASE BE REASONABLE!” Deuce begged for his life(?) as Riddle continually hacked away at the group.

MC’s group ran all the way to the exit and closed the gate just as Riddle’s insane laughter echoed behind them. Even though it was acting, the panting group noted that this version of Riddle is just as traumatizing as the one as when he was Overblotted. In their ten-minute break, Ace and Deuce could not stop shuddering.

Now that MC’s group has got the first charm, the majority of students that took on this challenge plotted ways to forcefully reclaimed it...

Having finally recuperated from Heartsyabul’s haunted dorm ordeal, they slowly marched into their next destination… Savannaclaw.

TO BE CONTINUED

BONUS:

As per Azul’s request, all dorms are also tasked to sell their own haunted house merchandise (for Crowley’s charity purposes!). It’s selling like hotcakes - although not as fast-selling as Octanivelle’s.

Aside from T-Shirts, Stickers, and keychains, their fast-selling items are Trey’s rose-shaped sugar cookies and cupcakes.

Part 4

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svtshine · 4 years

Text

Tattooed in my heart

Pairing: Minghao x reader

genre: Soulmate!au, Fluff

type: oneshot, imagine

ability: Soulmates that share the same tattoo, which is located on a random part of your body. It glows when you’re going to meet your soulmate

extra: i’m not actually sure if minghao has this tattoo or if it was edited. Feel free to tell me if you know :’). But it’s still really gorgeous and beautiful, inspired me to write this

You were five when first felt the hot searing pain on your wrist. It shocked you and you immediately found your parents, tears running down your face at how painful the feeling was. After a while, a beautiful 8 figure formed on your wrist like an infinity sign, it was gorgeous you first thought, slightly sniffing after enduring the pain for an hour.

Your parents showed you their tattoo, and explained how soulmates worked. Everyone is born with someone they were destined to meet, to love and to spend their whole life with. There were different ways one would be able to find their soulmate. Matching tattoos, being able to feel their pain for example.

It seems that you, alike your parents, had matching tattoos with your soulmate. You stared in wonder of the beautiful figure and wonder what it meant

It was around the age of twelve when you learnt the true meaning of your tattoo. The infinity 8 symbol represent everlasting love and good fortune. Infinite energy, infinite love and endless abundance. You loved the tattoo at first sight, and now understanding the deep meaning that it symbolises made you love it more. You couldn’t wait to find your soulmate, you believed that whoever he was, was someone who would love and appreciate for infinity and beyond.

It was a nice evening, as you made your way to the restaurant you were working at for your night shift. You sighed as it was going to be a long night, but the beautiful colours that painted the sky made you wanna smile.

It was sunset, the hues of orange, yellow and pink mixed together and formed a majestic sight to behold. The wind also complimented the scenery and you stopped for a moment to admire it.

You knew it was hard to be alone, but the thought that one day, you were going to meet the one, that would protect you, love you and take care of you, regardless of any situation. Someone you could pay all of your attention towards and wake up every morning to make them breakfast, was worth every second. You hoped, somewhere out there, your soulmate could watch the very same scenery that you experienced.

You turned your attention from the array of colours as you felt a sting on the inside of your wrist. Your tattoo was glowing slightly and you scrunched your eyes brows in confusion as this has never happened before. However, the alarm on your phone set off, reminding you that your shift was going to start soon. You took one last look at the sky and rushed down the street

Your tattoo glowing brighter with every step

“Minghao, let’s go. coups hyung said we’re all gonna go get some late dinner” Hoshi said as Minghao looked away from the mirror in the practice room and replied with an ‘okay’

He stared back into the mirror for a while, noticing how his tattoo on his back, was emitting a small glow.

“hyung, am i thinking too much? why is my tattoo glowing” Minghao asked frustrated because this was the first time his tattoo had ever done that he didn’t know why it was doing it.

Hoshi came over to check and sure enough it was really glowing, “i don’t know man, but i’m sure it’s fine” hoshi patted Minghao’s back. Minghao packed up his stuff, “we’ll just ask the rest later” hoshi said waiting at the door. Minghao nodded and took one last look at his tattoo that he has grown to be fond of.

He loved the number 8, in fact his stage name was chosen after his tattoo. Coming from a chinese family, Minghao loved the chinese meaning of the figure 8 and what it stands for. Loving it more since it became his tattoo.

He was aware about soulmates, and he longed to meet his destined soon enough. In seventeen only woozi hyung has found his soulmate, and only accidentally. She is very kind and bright, always bringing refreshments for the boys whenever they finished practice. But the one thing that minghao envied about them, was the way they looked at each other. Woozi hyung and his soulmate that it. They always looked at each other, eyes filled with adoration and pure love.

Minghao wanted that, to look at someone and just smile by them laughing or doing something random. To spoil someone and to love that person with his whole being. He couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate and always wondered how it would be like, the first time meeting them.

His tattoo glowed brighter with every thought that passed his mind.

It was a slow night, as you sat on the counter and doodled on a note pad, the design of your tattoo. It was close to ten now and most of the families and couples have already left. There were only a few customers left in the restaurant.

You continued sketching your tattoo and hummed a soft melody to yourself. You looked up to check the time and got lost staring at the second hand ticking.

The sound of the doorbell jiggling pulled you away from your thoughts and you double checked the time, it wasn’t very often customers came in at this timing.

“Welcome, how many of you are there—“

Your eyes slightly widened at the sight of 13 young men that were all way taller than you, pooling into the restaurant. It was a large group and they were all wearing masks or hats almost to cover up their identity.

“Hi, can we have a table for 13?” The one infront spoked politely. His deep voice shocked you but the way he spoke with a warm tone made you less tense.

You flashed them a smile and took 8 menus in hand and guiding them to a table at the back. “Of course, we can only give you this table, it’s the biggest and there’s more space here”

The boys started choosing their seats and flipped through the menu. You took out your notebook and pencil, preparing to write down a very large order.

Minghao continued to stare at you as you focused on what Josh hyung wanted to order. He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as you took in their whole group but he found it cute.

Even Mingyu whispered to him, “hey she’s pretty don’t you think?”

When you directed them towards the table at the back, he found your voice super satisfying, there was just something about you. That made him want to know you more.

When you finally reached him, since he was sitting at the end of the table. Your whole page was already filled with orders but you continued asking, “what would you like, sir?” looking at Minghao for the first time

He’s handsome.

The way his hair was styled, and how great he looked in his outfit even thought it was coming to midnight and you probably looked like shit compared to him. For a moment you just stared at his lips moving, it was like moving in slow motion and you couldn’t help but focus on them instead of his orders.

Minghao realised you were staring at him and he blushed slightly, praying that under the dim light you won’t be able to notice it. He waved a hand u tik you shook your head slightly and apologised to him before biting your lip.

Oh god that was so freaking sexy—, stop Minghao

You broke away from your thoughts and blushed, apologising to the handsome one infront of you.

“i’m so s-sorry, could you repeat yourself?” you stuttered.

The rest of the boys resumed conversing within one another so only Minghao attention was on you.

“it’s really fine, i’ll get fried noodles and hot tea please.” He looked at your badge, “Y/n”

You nodded, writing it down and announced that you were going to come back with the food.

Minghao’s eyes continued following you as you prepared the plates and interacted with the chef while preparing to serve them their dishes. You just seemed, perfect. he could almost see you glowing under the lights. Minghao didn’t understand why he was so attracted to you.

You served their drinks before going back and getting the dishes. You folded up your sleeves since you didn’t want to accidentally stain it, forgetting your tattoo for a second.

Minghao noticed there was a tattoo on your wrist, but under the lights he wasn’t too sure of the design. He also realised that you were able to memorise all their orders without even needing to ask them twice and found that super cool.

As you walked towards him with two plates of steaming food and placing the fried noodle dish infront of Minghao, that was when he realised he was staring at the same tattoo that he had on his back.

For a moment, he was still taking in the fact that he’s actually seeing his tattoo somewhere else that wasn’t his back. His eyes widened in disbelief and shock.

Minghao instinctively grabbed your wrist after you let go of his plate and looked up at you. Your eyes were as big as his, “T-this tattoo, i have the same one. O-on my back. Oh my god, i found you” he stood up and hugged you tightly.

You processed the information and proceeded to hug him back as tightly as the members cheered you on, some already knew as they recognised tour tattoo but didn’t want to spoil it for Minghao.

Minghao wrapped his arms around you and pulled away, brushing the stray hair away from your face and behind your ear.

“I think this is why i was so attracted to you ever since you entered but, i’m really going to need proof” You whispered shyly as you stared at the man infront of you, who you hoped deeply that really was your soulmate.

“y-yeah of course, do you have a staff room or something here? with more privacy?” Minghao questioned, still smiling and in a daze as he stared at you.

You looked at your manager, and judging by the noise and hoots from your soulmate’s group, he understood you guys needed some privacy and even gave you a thumbs up as you led Minghao to the locker room at the back that was only for staff members.

Minghao closed the door behind him and turned behind from your gaze. He took off his shirt and let you stare at the tattoo on his back.

he heard you gasp in shock as you left gentle traces on his back, following the lines of the tattoo.

“it really is you. I-i can’t believe it, i’ve been wishing for this day ever since i was a kid, oh god i even thought about meeting you just a few hours ago” You said quickly, voice clearly showing you were nervous and exciting about finally finding your soulmate. “what’s your name soulmate?” you asked

“Minghao, love” minghao said, wearing back his shirt and turning around to face you. He lifted his hands and his eyes silently asked if he could wrap them around your hips. You nodded and he instantly pulled you closer to him, admiring you.

“i’ve been dying to meet you too, Y/n. and can i say, you’re gorgeous, i’m so lucky you’re my destined” You loved the way your name rolled off his tongue and blushed as he complimented you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Minghao, you’re really handsome too. I can’t wait to get to know you, and i’m really grateful you’re my soulmate”

Minghao smiled at you and leaned in closer, hesitating as he was scared that you weren’t comfortable with it. After you nodded in approval, he softly placed his lips against yours.

it was, magical. A soft moan escaped you as Minghao’s hands came up to sneak around your waist and your hand pulled on his hair ever so slightly. His lips never stopped moving against yours. The two of you pulled away for air.

Minghao laid his forehead on yours, and the both of you smiled at each other. the same thought crossed your minds.

“thank you, for letting me have this blessing as mine”

and your tattoos, glowed brighter than it ever did before

Masterlist

#seventeen #svt #scenario #fluff #soulmate #svt soulmate #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao soulmate!au #soulmate!au #The8 #The8 fluff

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yeselbeethings · 4 years

Text

konoha’s sublime green beast

10 relationship headcanons for Might Guy

pairing: might guy x reader

a/n: similar vibe to the last relationship headcanons - any suggestions for who to do next would be appreciated.

synopsis: a few tender moments, scenes from your relationship with Guy

warnings: nsfw content for the last few: general sex, fingering, oral.. the standard

The first time you meet Might Guy, you are stunned to silence. He sits with you and the other jōnin at the local bar and shares stories and you are completely hooked. Everything about him entrances you; his vibrancy, the way he speaks, the jumpsuit, the body, the size of his hands... he's so bright and youthful? Anko is the first to spot you staring, and when she drags you to help her at the bar with drinks, she says "oh yeah, Guy is a bit weird, we should have warned you", and in your tipsy state you remember replying "I dunno, he seems kind of cool?" You spend the rest of the night trying to catch his eye and striking up conversations. A few weeks later, he asks you on your first date, and your shoulders shake with laughter when you accept and he cheers something about youth.

Guy goes through his signature jumpsuits at an alarming pace. Sometimes they rip straight through the middle of the crotch, other times they wear through at the thighs, more often than not they simply succumb to the general wear and tear of being a ninja. You take lurid green jumpsuits that develop rips on the arms from being snagged on trees, and thus are no use to Guy anymore, and repurpose them. You cut the top section off and cut the leg just above the knees and wear them around the house with oversized t-shirts and sweatshirts. The upcycled shorts become part of your casual day off outfit, and you take to wearing them when you need to run errands around the village. It’s only right to carry on the Might family tradition in your own way.

Guy loves poetry, so much so it has seeped into his general way of speaking - most people just think it’s his odd turn of phrase, but you know it’s from years and years of devouring any poetry he can get his hands on - especially after Duy’s death. Your tiny shared apartment is filled with poetry books, from every village and spanning centuries. Guy needs reading glasses and has done since his teen years - he can read mission scrolls etc. with little trouble but if he needs or wants to read for more than a few minutes he takes out the gold-rimmed round glasses that live in a basket full of odd bits and pieces that don’t have a true home in the apartment and slips them on. He pushes his hair from his forehead slightly and lies down on the floor to settle into the latest thing he’s picked to read. He keeps a small battered red leather-bound book on his nightstand; it’s a second-hand copy of a collection of Warring States era poetry. Guy scribbles in the margins of all his books, but this one is littered with annotations and underlinings. On rainy nights, while you rest your head on his broad bare chest, Guy will hold you close and read a poem or two from this book to you. Uncharacteristically quiet, measured, and serious, his voice is like honey. When he goes away on long missions, you’ll often find a note resting on top of the book with a page number and line number written on it, you know to save peaking at that passage for a particularly hard moment, when you wish his gentle voice and inspiring words were there to comfort you.

One of the major challenges of being in a relationship with Might Guy is the sheer volume of food he consumes. His strict training regime and huge energy output mean that Guy eats up to 14 meals a day; all carefully nutritionally balanced. So much of both of your free time is dedicated to bulk cooking, preparing bento boxes, dehydrating fruit and vegetables, boiling eggs, steaming fish... Guy appreciates every second you put into helping him with his training and diet. Whenever you both have a free day in the village he hand writes you a note and leaves it in the kitchen with a cup of fresh coffee resting on top inviting you to dinner. Guy always chooses the most comfortable places, with home-style food and free-flowing sake and beers. He insists you order anything and everything you want, reminding you to leave room for dessert. He holds your hand over sticky tables, wearing a T-shirt and standard-issue jōnin trousers, smiling at you widely as you share dumplings and scallion pancakes dripping with black vinegar and chili oil. When you leave the restaurant, completely full, he pulls you into his arms and kisses you deeply, a large tanned hand on the back of your head and his other pulling you into him by the small of your back. You don’t know what makes you feel drunker; the sake, the food, or the depth of his kiss.

After your first few dates, you promised to cook for Guy at your apartment. Already knowing his love of curry, you silently vowed to yourself that you would wean him off that S&B curry roux blocks he always seemed to be purchasing when you ran into him in the village. The first time you cooked him a curry, he leant his hip against your kitchen cabinet, sipping a jasmine tea, and with rapt attention listened to you explain which different spices you'd be using for the curry paste. Guy would explain the medicinal uses for each one as you measured them out, all of them known to him already due to his extensive herbal medicine knowledge. This is the moment you knew that you'd fallen in love, listening to Guy explain to you that to activate the medicinal properties of turmeric, you'd need some fresh black pepper, with Guy showing you the best time to add garlic to preserve the allicin to ward off colds. While he explained to you all the properties, you told him what would work together and what wouldn't, to ensure that the finished curry paste would actually taste delicious and not just be a mash of flavours and chili. When your relationship deepened and you eventually came to share an apartment, a weekly curry night for Team 10 emerged, with Neji, Tenten and Lee sat around your large dining table, eating whatever curry you'd made that week. You sit there, smiling, as Guy explains how each component in the curry will help them become even more splendid shinobi.

At some point, you acquired a small turtle-shaped chalkboard, that hangs from a red ribbon on the handle of one of the kitchen cabinets. In the back of your mind, you think it was originally for reminders, but somewhere along the way, it got commandeered to record the results of Kakashi and Guy's challenges. You remember searching the rubble after Pain's attack to find it, sifting through tattered pages and broken ceramics in the vague hopes that it would be intact enough to save.

It is Hana Inuzuka who holds you tight around the stomach when you see the sky fill red during the 4th Shinobi War. Years ago, Guy had told you that he believed the time would come when he would eventually open the eight gate and that he would become Konoha’s red beast. he told you what would happen, from what he had gathered from the limited research on the topic. That he would burn hot as the sun and his body would disintegrate and he would fill the atmosphere as hot ash. You had sat in stunned silence at the man’s resolve and acceptance. Hana’s firm grip was suffocating around your stomach, and you could feel the eyes of members of the allied forces staring at you as you struggled, screaming. When the Infinite Tsukuyomi takes hold of you, you dream of chubby babies wearing green with pitch-black hair and iron grips, and a sweet uncle with white eyes and flowing clothes.

After the war and Guy’s discharge from the hospital, you find yourselves lost in your relationship. Guy becomes a shadow of himself, constantly encouraging you to leave, to let him wallow in peace, and for a brief few moments, you let yourself think that you could. The strain is unbearable at times, Guy considering himself unable to be your partner and you unable to reach the lightest parts of him. It is the 6th Hokage, Kakashi Hatake’s arrival on your doorstep, a new turtle chalkboard in hand that begins to turn the tide of Guy’s grief, and the pain in your relationship. Each week, Kakashi arrives for tea, and each week he issues a new challenge. It takes 6 months until Guy caves and agrees to go along with the rock paper scissors battle. He wins, 50-47. You mark the turtle chalkboard. Guy: 1, Lord 6th: 0. It hangs in your bedroom, and slowly the board becomes a mottled grey, with old chalk stains and the ghost of numbers. Guy begins training with Rock Lee again. He begins reading poetry again. His appetite climbs and climbs, and in the darkness of the night, he holds your hands and tells you he’s so so grateful you stayed - you are too.

Guy loves giving you head. He licks short wide tongued across your clit repeatedly and waits to hear your breath hitch and feel your hips twitching before he switches his tactic, enveloping your whole clit into his mouth and humming deeply as he licks and sucks, his bottom jaw rhythmically moving until your moans become deeper and longer, his hands pressing your hips into the bed. He loves it when you card your hands through his hair and grind into him. Sometimes he lets you cum like this, hips rising to meet his mouth and your fingers grasping at the sheets crying out his name, other times he edges you by drawing you closer and closer to your climax and allowing two fingers to slowly stretch you out in time with the licks of his tongue. He stops when you’re beginning to feel the pleasurable heat build and build and throws your legs up, moving quickly and lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you before your pleasure completely dissipates. He fucks you, giving himself a moment of relief before stopping to continue where he had stopped moments before, head between your legs and eyes looking up at you, dark and heavy, watching your chest brace and your muscles tense, pushing you over the edge in a few minutes, switching back to being inside you before the waves of pleasure have subsided so he can feel the clenching of your muscles around him and bring you quickly over the edge for a second time.

Even within your relationship, Guy has set himself personal challenges. When he is thrusting into you, or his fingers are deep inside you while his thumb rubs circles over your clit and your mouth hangs open, gasping and your hair is sticking to your face as you groan underneath him, overstimulated and hazy, he leans down and whispers into your ear - one more, okay? give me one more.

#might guy #maito gai #might guy x reader #maito gai x reader #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto shippuden #naruto #reader insert #guy sensei #guy sensei x reader

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