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ateliersss · 9 months

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Part 3 - He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here Masterlist

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

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“Be'jaa, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer, or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life.

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track, and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Be'jaa wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets, but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed, and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you.

Speaking of him, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Be'jaa?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark, or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Be'jaa?”

And again.

“Be–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support, the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to instill that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up.

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on.

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant.

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately, a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat.

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that.

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything.

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip.

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to due-day you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein.

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you, or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit, but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear.

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition.

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward, towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes, and rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body that kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader.

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you.

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up, and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He looped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt.

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear.

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him.

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human-like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader; all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound.

“Be'jaa!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Be'jaa turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Be'jaa, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand.

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein.

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did.

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started.

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too.

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey, and kill it.

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males that were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee, and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course, I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain, and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and were whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson, while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this; not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him, you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing, and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating about what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of it had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table, and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between them at what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting, blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life, and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table, and down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.

continue with the fourth part He Shall Prevail

#predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #fanfic

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buckys-little-belle · 6 months

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Im scared to but my first Barbie, but I really want one! Sooooo bad. Can you maybe write Steve and Bucky meeting a she/her reader in the Barbie spot in a store and being nice to her? Maybe buying her a Barbie and some clothes? And they are just nice?

Barbie Aisle Buddies

Stucky x Shy!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Warnings - The reader is generally a worry wart so she has a bit of 'panic' and worry during this fic, it gets resolved by the end and fluff ensues after her worry.

Notes - I honestly pulled inspiration from a fic I had written a while ago about a shy reader in a toy aisle, so I hope it's okay that I made the ready shy. This is also pretty short! But also so cute!!! Also I know it can be scary going to a store and buying toys but I promise you it's okay! I have bought so many Barbies and Barbie toys like clothes, and I described a Barbie I own in this story! Don't let worry eat you up, go buy the Barbie! Trust me when I tell you it's worth the worry, having fun dolls that I get to play with and dress up is so fun and I don't regret getting them! You only live once bubba, don't let the worry get you down for too long! I hope you get a Barbie soon!!! <3

SFW - Keep all interactions with the post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n had been hyping herself up for a month now. Twenty dollars in her pocket, and a determined state of mind were all she had as she walked up and down the Barbie aisle of her local grocery store. It was a small selection of dolls, yet so overwhelming at the same time.

Some dolls had different jobs, chef, doctor, fashion designer. Others had fancy outfits or animal sidekicks. It was hard to pick just one doll, but seeing as she only had enough money for one doll, she knew she had to pick just one.

"Hello." A man's voice broke through her overthinking, a man stood just a few feet away, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, some worn out sneakers on his feet. He looked familiar, though Y/n couldn't place just where she had seen him before. "I'm Steve." He smiled, turning to look at the same shelf she had her eyes on previously. "It's hard to pick one, isn't it?"

"Um." Y/n panicked, trying to remember the excuse she had made up regarding why she was in this aisle. Did she land on 'getting a toy for a friend's kid' or 'I have a birthday party to attend'?

"Steve!" Another man's voice called out. This time a man dressed all in black, combat boots and gloves included, planted himself a few feet away. "Hi there, Doll." He smiled, Y/n couldn't help but smile back, the man's charm winning her over. "Which one do you have your eye on?" He asked as he scanned the shelves, hands crossed over his chest, looking at the plethora of choices like he too was thinking about getting one.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm just, you know, a, I don't, I." Y/n began stuttering, trying to get out an excuse, any excuse, to make them believe she wasn't buying a Barbie doll for herself.

"Dolls don't have an age, Doll." The man without a name chuckled. "If you're looking for a Barbie to play with I would suggest one that comes with a few items." He began pointing to a few sets she had looked at, but sets that were over her budget.

"I like this one." Y/n quickly grabbed a doll she had her eye on. She was a chef and came with a pan and what looked to be a fried egg. She had a chefs hat and coat, and looked fun enough, but the biggest pull was it was the only doll with accessories that was in her price range.

"She'll need some everyday clothes." Steve squatted down to a lower shelf, rummaging through some small containers for a set of clothes.

"I can't, I just. This is all I can get." Y/n smiled with a hint of self conciseness. Admitting you didn't have a lot of Barbie money to strangers wasn't the end all be all, but at the same time it still felt extremely venerable.

"Well, Doll." The unnamed man with a smile full of charm spoke again. "It's your lucky day then." He pulled the cart Steve must have brought closer to the shelf. "Pick whatever you want."

"What?" Y/n shook her head taking a step back, confused as to what he meant.

Steve was the one to speak up this time. "You don't know who we are, I'm guessing." His smile was softer, more gentle. "I was formally known as Captain America." The truth felt like a weight had been lifted off Y/n's shoulders, her happy to know that she wasn't crazy for thinking he looked familiar.

"And I'm his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, formally known as The Winter Soldier." Mr Unnamed added on.

"Oh." Y/n nodded her head, taking in the two men, even more confused as to why they were wasting their time in a local stores Barbie aisle with her. "Sorry for bothering you."

Y/n was ready to dash with her doll, worried that the super soldiers she just met would grow tired of her quiet demeanor. "Doll." Bucky called out, his voice commanding yet it still had a joking tone to it. "Come back here and pick at least four things."

"Buck." Steve whispered loudly.

"Steve." Bucky said back, his tone condescending. "Doll, please let us but you some dolls. It would make our day." She still hadn't turned around and had half a heart to run, yet for some reason she turned around and took a good look at the shelf.

There really were some sets she'd love to have, like the farmers market stand and a little dog set, and Steve was right, her doll needed everyday clothes. "You won't make fun of me?" She asked, worry surrounding each word.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Steve put his hand over his heart, an action that made her giggle.

"I'm Y/n." She finally gave them her name, a small smile breaking past her worried expression.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." Bucky and Steve said at the same time, the three of them laughing.

"Which outfit do you think your doll would look best in?" Steve held out a few options, letting Y/n ponder over them as Bucky tried to convince her to pick the Barbie camper as one of her choices, as if she had a spot for such a big play set.

"I like this one." She pointed to a package that help a blue dress, pick shirt, and jean skirt. The shoes were cute too, and she got excited at the idea of dressing her doll in the outfit.

So there they all stood, Steve and Bucky trying to convince Y/n to get super expensive things, and Y/n trying to figure out how she got so lucky to have two super soldiers worrying over her new doll collection.

#buckys little belle #anon #age regression #age regression fic #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers age regression #steve rogers x little reader #steve rogers x little!reader #bucky barnes x reader

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

Text

alright, so, one more thing i've been thinking about during all of this, and apologies, because i normally try to keep my blog fairly discourse-free in the grand scheme of things. but.

there are hermitcraft fans who act irritatingly morally superior about this fandom. i think it's out of some impulse to try to distance yourselves from any other mcyt fandom. it needs to stop.

the worst behavior during the polls was from the hermitcraft fans.

period.

there were so many instances of hermitcraft fans accusing the other side of cheating, of hermitcraft fans making attacks on the character of their guy's opponents, i have heard what i HOPE are isolated reports of racism in the grian/quackity fight (it was genuinely impossible to keep up with the blog's notes that round without both going into a death spiral thanks to the horrible behavior of scar fans during techno/scar and also without losing track instantly of where we were due to the frankly insurmountable volume of notes, so i did not see it, but unfortunately i fully believe it). i have seen people receiving awful asks - saw people being accused of 'betraying' the hermitcraft side due to voting for quackity or techno, for example.

and for a fandom that likes to act like it's better than the other guys, well. the dsmp fans were generally very well behaved in comparison. (shoutout, for example, to quackblr - i saw maybe one or two possible instances of bad behavior, but for as intense as you all were, you all were normally mostly just retaliatory towards whatever energy was thrown at you.) it wasn't supposed "outsiders coming in" that was doing this bad behavior, either.

folks, you can't blame the dsmp when the problem is inside the house. you can't blame twitter users when you're doing it here. you can't blame the reddit when you're the ones throwing the first death threats.

get off your high horses. we're all mcyt fans. we're all having the same fun. get off your high horses. you can hardly claim we're entirely all "unproblematic" when keralis accepted a sponsorship from the wizard game and xisuma periodically gets another round of getting shouted down over something he said on xisumasays. get off your high horses. you can't claim we're the accepting, good behavior fandom, unlike those other guys, when you're the ones causing the problems.

now, as always, i'm sure this is a law of large numbers thing to some extent. as technoblade, wise as he is, said: sometimes when you get a large enough group, you're going to have a few serial killers. but for the amount that hermitblr likes to act better than Those Other Minecraft Fandoms, and those Other Fandom Websites, it wasn't those guys that made me cry.

to be clear, the majority of you have been well-behaved. but there's a persistent tendency in this fandom to act strangely morally superior to other fandoms. and, y'all? you aren't.

you just aren't.

and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less likely this is to happen again, because once you admit that yeah, we can be toxic too? that's when you can start actually looking at yourself and trying not to be.

anyway, sorry again to make this post. i don't want to be a downer, hence why, outside of the official mod statements of "chill the fuck out", i didn't make this until now. (it also helps that i wanted to wait until i was no longer furious, upset, and death spiraling.) i have seen a lot of the best of this fandom over the past two weeks! i've just also, unfortunately, seen some of the worst, and feel the need to make this statement because it's just... been eating at me.

i don't want this to continue to be a trend. i think we can do better. do so.

#discourse #hermitcraft #side note. please don't come into my inbox about this i WILL just delete it (even if you're agreeing with me)#i also don't need a 'sorry this happened' so much as a. idk. i'm making this post so maybe people realize that they're doing this at all #and stop doing it #anyway wanna reiterate: 90% of y'all were nice. the problem is everyone likes to pretend the 10% doesn't exist #and i'm just... tired of that.#so here i am! psa over

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months

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Daddy's here, buddy (Lewis Hamilton)

A look into the Hamilton household now that they are a family of three

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (I know it has been a while, like, a really long time), I'm finally posting this one. I won't blame you if you have left, especially since it took me so long, but if you're still around, I hope you like this, anon!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions pregnancy, postpartum (difficulties walking, breastfeeding, soreness)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

As soon as Lewis was able, he flew straight back home, promising Toto and the rest of the team a detailed written debrief he worked on while he was on the plane.

When he landed, one of your friends was there to drive him straight home, "they are both doing well so the doctor discharged them this morning, they watched the race at home already with your mum", she smiled, noticing his antsyness, "we'll stop by my place so you can have a shower and change clothes, and then you'll get to meet him. I know I'm biased, and you'll be too, but he's the cutest little boy ever", she smiled, reassuring him that everything was well underway and that they were being careful with the baby's health.

"Carmen, can I have some water, please?", Lewis heard you call for his mother as he walked through the stairs that led the garage to the living area of the house, seeing the older woman pour the liquid into a mug and bringing it to you along with a straw.

"Hey, look who's here!", you smiled, handing the mug back to your mother in-law when you finished sipping from it.

Lewis walked closer to you, rubbing his mother's arm before he kissed the top of your head, taking a peek at the bundle in your arms. Baby Noah has been sleeping against your chest, pillowy lips agape without another care in the world, but he seemed to stir as he felt his father's presence in the room.

"Someone wants to meet daddy", you cooed as Lewis sat next to you on the sofa, arms expectantly held out as you transferred the baby to his arms.

Taking the baby wrapped up in the beige blanket and placing him on his chest, Lewis let one of his hands rest on his son's back to hold him close.

"Hey Noah", he whispered, looking up briefly to see his mother and wife smiling at them, "You were slightly early, weren't you? Daddy wasn't here when you came earthside, and I'm very sorry for it, but now we have all the time in the world", he whispered, softly touching his cheek and moving to stroke his head, feeling the soft baby hair.

Noah looked up at him as tears filled his eyes, "I couldn't wait to get home to you and mummy. I'm sure a lot of people want to meet you, I got told that much in the paddock", he smiled at the beautiful boy in his arms. "It's ok", Lewis whispered as the baby started getting fussy, opening his mouth and squinting his eyes closed as he cried loudly.

A quick look at the clock made you suddenly reach your arms out for your crying little boy, "he's hungry, it's just about time", you nudged, cradling him to you and kissing his forehead.

"I'm going to go, dears, leave you in your newborn bubble", Carmen smiled, "if you need anything, and I mean anything, call me, okay?", she checked, kissing your head and Lewis' before squeezing her grandson's little hand softly, "goodbye, baby boy, behave well for mummy and daddy, okay?".

After she saw herself out, you undid the top buttons of your shirt, unfastening the bra cover so you could feed your little boy, "That's it, good boy", you cooed, feeling your husband's eyes on you.

"We watched the race, congratulations on your podium", you smiled, your hand squeezing your husband's thigh once you balanced your baby on the feeding pillow.

"Thanks", he breathed out, "I still can't believe he's here, that he's ours", he shook his head, "we have our little boy here with us.

"Thank you for doing this for our family, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner", he expressed, kissing your lips softly as Noah whined, "daddy can't kiss mummy, now? Oh, this is going to be interesting!".

"Am I doing this right? I think I am", your heard your husband say to your son as you started to wake up, "looks secured enough. Hopefully we won't have any explosions and nothing comes out of here".

Your hissing while trying to pull yourself up announced you were awake as your husband turned his torso slightly to face you, "mummy is awake, little love", he beamed, finishing popping the buttons on your son's clothes so he was comfortable.

By the time you found a way to pull yourself up and against the headboard, Lewis was sitting next to you, ready to pass Noah into your arms so you could feed him, "are you still feeling sore?", he asked, kissing your cheek.

"It's not as bad as yesterday", you assured him while you moved your boob so Noah could latch, ignoring the sting as his lips met your sensitive skin, "my back feels fine, but moving my legs might be tricky still", you offered.

"The midwife said that would be expected, so we'll just keep an eye out for anything serious, yes?", your husband said as you took the opportunity to rest your body against his naked chest, his arm going around your shoulders and softly tracing shapes on your bare skin.

"Can you burp him while I use the bathroom?", you asked as Lewis as he got up, burping him while standing up as you slowly got up as well, waddling to the en suite bathroom.

"Are you going to sleep now, little one?", he cooed, rocking him to sleep once all of the air trapped in his tummy got out, "you have a clean nappy, full tummy, and daddy needs to go and make sure mummy is okay", he chuckled, "with time, you'll see it takes her a while until she asks for help even though she's usually been needing it for way longer".

"Lew?", you called from the bathroom, "yes, darling?", he called back as he knocked on the door softly, asking for your permission to look inside, "I need to have a shower, but I don't trust my legs to keep me up, and sitting on the floor is not a good idea so, like - do we even have a stool I can sit on? -, I need something to support myself on", you asked.

"Noah is asleep, I can leave him here, in the middle of our bed, keep the door open and help you with your shower if that's okay", Lewis offered, "if I look around, I might find something, but I'm not sure we own a stool that can be put in water".

Weighing your options, you waddled back to your boys, kissing Noah's forehead and looking up at Lewis, "you don't mind helping?", you wondered.

Lewis placed Noah on the bed, making sure he was in an angle where you could see him from the bathroom, "c'mon, shower time, darling", he soflty nudged.

He turned on the warm water as you undressed yourself, disposing the underwear safely in the bathroom bin and walking into the shower compartment, thankful that Lewis insisted you needed a wide and ample space for it as it now perfectly accommodated the two of you once he had no clothes on either.

"Is the temperature good?", he asked and you nodded. Your body didn't feel wrong to you, just new, and Lewis seemed to be on the same page, tracing your hips and tummy softly while you wet your hair.

By now, the routine was so engraved in your lives that Lewis knew which steps followed which, only stopping when you needed to support yourself on him, to steal a few kisses or take a peek of Noah.

"Now he's sleeping well", you muttered chuckling as you wrapped a towell around your body, accepting Lewis' hand as he took you to the bedroom, "I have your underwear ready with those witch hazel round pads to help with the soreness", he added.

Helping you put them on along with the rest of your clothes he gathered from the drawers, your husband left a trail of kisses anywhere his mouth was close enough to your skin as he dressed you, "how about a nap? Noah surely kept us up so we could do with some sleep", he smiled, pulling you to lie against his chest while you cradled your son against your own chest.

"I know, baby, I know", you gulped, grabbing the silicone covers for your nipples while bouncing Noah on your bent legs, "mummy is trying to make this better for both of us, hopefully this works", you tried, fitting the piece and pulling Noah to you, encouraging him to suck.

The specialist had told you that using the covers would help you in days where the skin was extra sensitive, but its continuous use could mean that Noah would have to work harder to get his milk in, leaving him to get more tired and eat less, ultimately making him drop his weight.

"Hey, darling, I'm back", Lewis called from the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets as he stored away the things he bought from the shop.

"In the living room", you croaked out, holding the tears that threatened to fall as Noah seemed to drift off to sleep, "ah-ah, baby boy, you have to eat more, otherwise you won't grow", you groaned, taking off the silicone piece and biting your lip as his lips made contact with your skin directly.

The tears you worked on keep at bay fell down your cheeks as Lewis walked inside the living room, "hey, darling, I - what's the matter?", he checked you over, sitting next to you as you looked up at the ceiling.

"It hurts, a lot", you cried, "the only way it doesn't hurt is if I have these on, but with them he won't eat, so I have to compromise that", you allowed him to wipe your cheeks, "what a great mother I am, talking about compromise when I am feeding my baby", you scoffed at your own words.

"Hey, it's okay to talk about it if it hurts, darling. I'm so, so sorry, I wish I could do something to take that pain away", he comforted, kissing your cheeks as he pushed your bodies closing together.

"I will rub the cream afterwards, and we can try the silver nipple covers, we haven't done that yet", he suggested, his hands tracing shapes on your skin and squeezing the area, hoping to distract you from the pain you were feeling.

"I'll put him to sleep, okay? You can go and freshen up, darling", Lewis said as he bounced Noah on his arms after burping him, giving you time to use the bathroom and get a little bit of fresh air.

After splashing your face with water, you lightly dabbed the towell on your face before walking to the kitchen, opening the door that lead to the back garden and standing in the sun for a few minutes.

It was easy to get lost. A lot of people, specially the ones who were brutally honest about the whole experience, told you that much. Not out of spite or because they wanted to scare you, but rather because they cared enough to tell you about all of it. It was easy to lose yourself because all your focus was on your baby. Truth was, if you lost yourself, your baby would end yo suffering, too, so the whole situation required balance. Right now, the sun rays hitting your skin seemed to tip the scales to an even line.

"He's asleep already", you heads Lewis say, baby monitor on hand hand and another one with a cup of tea for you, "here, beautiful", he offered.

"Everytime I look at his face, I can't believe we made him. Such a perfect baby, how is he ours? But, it's also a lot sometimes", you breathed out, letting go of the guilt that was consuming you and recognising that you could love your family unconditionally and still admit that things could get hard. One didn't override the other.

"It's okay to admit that", Lewis said, pulling you to rest your back against his chest, "but we'll go, day by day, see what it brings us. You're doing so well, Y/N, you've been so strong for our family", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "will you let me take care of you now?", he wondered, guiding you back inside for a little pamper session.

"Your tummy really is troubling you, isn't it, little one?", Lewis said as Noah didn't seem to settle down, cries and whimpers leaving the little baby's mouth as he rocked him back and forth, "should we try those massages daddy was taught in the baby classes?".

Laying Noah on the changing table, Lewis unswaddled him before holding his legs, "first we go into frog mode", he chuckled, pulling the little legs into position before wiggling his hips and tummy, "the nurse in the baby classes said to wiggle a little, and apparently you are very flexible at this point, so you're like putty almost. It's a bit scary, but you seem to be doing better, right buddy?", he said, noticing he was passing some gas already and his whimpers had died down.

As you came out of your shower, you watched the replied on your son's face as the noise coming from his diaper confirmed the reason from his previous pains, "Oh, that was a big one!", you giggled, approaching your boys as Lewis grabbed a new diaper, "I'm on it!", he said, kissing your cheek and taking care of changing Noah.

"Do you want to go on a walk this afternoon?", you wondered, "I feel a little better ans I want to start being a little more active. Nothing crazy, but rather a nice way to leave the house", you suggested, being met with your husband's sparkly eyes, "of course, darling. I'll get him a new outfit, we're going to be matching!", he smiled as he noticed the colour pattern you were going for.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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lookingforhappy · 2 months

Text

TUA Inconsistencies, Plotholes and Goofs

before u read, pls know that i adore this show and wouldn't be critiquing it this harshly if i wasn't utterly obsessed with it.

I don't think that all of these need fixes or explanations since they function as fun little plot devices etc but I think it's important to note that they do break the story a little. although there are some that really do need fixes.

this comes from a place of interest, analysis, and frustration but not hate.

(also apologies to all the gifmakers who i have indirectly @'d in this post)

here's a list of all the problems i could remember in tua:

The Commission is too OP

(this one I saw posited by another blog but I can't remember who first brought it up? so credit to whoever said this first i think)

The Commission is shown to be capable of:

time travel

time freezing

body cloning & consciousness transplanting (essentially, their workers can live forever because they can build new bodies and transfer their minds as soon as they start to get old/ill)

paradox-proofing

timeline monitoring/spying (the Infinite Switchboard)

if the Commission has had the ISB all along + infinite time + unaging employees, then they have been able to watch every second of history, and every second of every alternate history ever (Lila watches the timeline Five rewound/erased).

If they can see every second of every possible history, then even if they're the most inefficiant organisation ever, they're able to know everything before it/they even exist.

which makes more or less every plot point impossible:

Five would not have been able to return to 2019 without being spotted and hunted down by people who know exactly what he looks like (13yro not 58 yro), exactly where he is (also making the tracker in his arm, and in the sweet wrapper, redundant), and exactly when he's vulnerable eg. when he sleeps, is injured or drunk.

The Handler would not have been able to hide in 1963 and plot against the Commission without being spotted by the Commission and killed/fired. Same thing goes for stealing and hiding multiple Briefcases.

The 1963 Apocalypse would not have been allowed to happen as the Commsission would have had Viktor killed long before it happened.

The Kugelblitz wouldn't have happened because the Commission would have seen it decades or centuries in advance and prevented it (this should be top priority because this is what kills them!).

Herb and Dot's Goals for the Commission

In s1 the Commission wants a very specific timeline to take place (aka the apocalypse) with no deviations, and are willing to do anything and everything to make it so.

Herb and Dot seem more than happy to go along with this, and even believe that the Commission is correct for doing this.

Dot in particular is the Case Manager for the apocalypse, meaning she is the one who spotted Five when he arrived as a 13yro and left him there to die/live a life of pain and isolation. She also was chiefly responsible for ensuring the deaths of 7 billion people including all the Hargreeves' for "the greater good".

Dot is actually seen snitching on Five to The Handler, was implied to be working with The Handler to prevent Five from stopping the apocalypse, and is the one to alert security/sound the alarm when Five starts fighting The Handler.

So it's pretty weird that in s2 and 3 Herb and Dot are suddenly fine with the apocalypse not happening. It's one thing to change management, and another to completely uproot the entire mission statement/ethos of the Commission. The Commission, from the moment Herb and Dot gain control, has no goal or purpose. because they gave up that purpose when they agreed to let the Hargreeves go to an apocalypse free 2019.

This is also weird as Five is completely fine and trusting of them at the end of s2, when all they've done so far to him is prove that they cannot be trusted and will do anything to cause the apocalypse, as well as having left him to suffer alone in an apocalypse for 45 years as well as force him to join the Commission and become a murderer (or else die alone).

The Two Fives + The Briefcase

old!Five doesn't take his Briefcase to 2019 in the original timeline.

So why don't Five and Luther wait until old!Five has left for 2019 to pick his Briefcase up off the ground, where it's entirely unguarded and completely abandoned, and avoid the Paradox Psychosis altogether.

old!Five wasn't in the timeline or remotely near enough to Five to cause Paradox Psychosis when Five originally came up with this plan.

The Grandfather Paradox + Similar Goofs

TUA Time Travel operates on branching/alternate timelines, like Loki, not on a loop/predestined, like HP, and not on one single malleable timeline, like Back to the Future. ergo The Grandfather Paradox cannot exist within the show.

As soon as Five averts the 2019 apocalypse, his existence would trigger a paradox as without the apocalypse he never got trapped and has no reason/knowledge to return to 2019 to prevent it.

Same thing for S2, the only reason the nukes aren't dropped in S2 is bc Five saw it happen and time travelled back to prevent it, but as soon as that apocalypse is prevented, the nukes are never dropped, and so he never sees the apocalypse happen and therefore cannot know to prevent it.

In fact, the very first episode of S2 as a whole should cause the Grandfather Paradox, by the shows own laws: as by causing a nuclear apocalypse, their mothers were never born/did not survive long enough to birth them -> so they cannot be alive -> they cannot time travel -> cannot cause an apocalypse in 1960s -> the mothers were born -> and around and around and around.

A similar goof happens in S2, as Five helps his older self return to 2019 without de-aging himself. Five is concerned that he will cease to exist if his other self doesn't travel to 2019, but his older self does travel back. But as a 58 year old man. However, Five himself doesn't turn into a 58 year old man as he should have if this was a singular malleable timeline. Hence, he needn't have worried as they created a separate branching timeline rather than edit their own timeline.

so essentially, they're creating entirely new alternate timelines and nothing they do changes their own experiences, lives, memories or bodies.

It doesn't matter that their mothers were killed before they were born in the sparrow timeline, because they're not from this branch and therefore still have mothers in their original timeline. which is proven to not affect their current selves.

Which... breaks the entire plot of S3.

(S3 may have also caused another paradox as the reset causes Five to regain his arm, and lose the tattoo, possibly meaning he doesn't found the Commission, meaning essentially none of the series can even start as Five cannot leave the apocalypse without the Commission).

Polk Salad Annie

Five travels to 1982, Wisconsin, to kill the Commission Board. yet he has no Briefcase, cannot time travel on his own, and is shown to meet The Handler separately rather than be picked up by her for transport.

(If Lila took him, then surely he would have attempted to steal the Briefcase from her rather than go through with the plan.)

furthermore, 1982 should be inaccessable. or at least, it should be a nuclear wasteland.

At this point, the events culminating in the prevention of the apocalypse haven't started: The Handler is not in control of the Commission, so Lila can't kidnap Diego to work for them, so he can't find the ISB and discover Viktor is the cause of the apocalypse, so Klaus doesn't know to take Ben to the FBI building, so the apocalypse can't be prevented. Five's action in 1982 is what sets that in motion (The Handler seizes control of the Commission), but 1982 doesn't exist in this timeline, so how does that work?

Five and the Commission don't seem to know how to Timeline hop, only how to create new timelines, and how to move backwards and forwards on their current timeline.

The only way to make 1982 accessable is to remove Viktor from the timeline or prevent the FBI from capturing him. Which they didn't. So how can Five get there.

The 7 Bells

Reginald's reasoning for adopting the superkids is to send them to Oblivion to use it to reset the Universe. He needs himself and a minimum of 7 superkids to do this, any less and Oblivion won't activate, and without him there to program it, nothing changes.

In the Original Timeline, his plan is foiled in 2002 when he looses Five, and he doesn't try to rectify it. Then again in 2006 when he looses Ben, and yet again doesn't rectify it.

He screws himself over even worse by killing himself in 2019, as now he cannot even go to Oblivion to program it. Klaus could theoretically summon or be possessed by Reginald, but once again, Reginald only has 5 out of 7, and with Klaus indisposed by summoning Reginald, he only has 4 available to power Oblivion.

Even stranger, he could have adopted spares for if situations like Five and Ben happen, in the form of the Sparrows, but he chose not to.

its also a strange choice to build the academy(s) as public superheroes, as he chose to send his only 7 children into life threatening situations repeatedly, which nearly killed Luther, probably nearly killed sparrow Ben, and did kill umbrella Ben.

He also admits that he purposefully stunted the Umbrella's powers, which contradicts his Oblivion plan, where they need to fight 3 near-immortal Guardians. it also contradicts his words to Klaus in s1 - that he's disappointed because Klaus never reached his true potential. Which, if he killed himself with the plan to have Klaus summon him to reprogram Oblivion, he would need Klaus at full power to be able to do that at all.

The Sparrows also don't seem to have this issue, they have great control of their powers, Ben especially. so why bother stunting one lot of kids, but not the other.

Smaller Goofs

-Luther being normal not monkey in 2015 (1x03) when he had his accident in 2012 (1x04) is a big goof up

-klaus not reanimating in the original apocalypse with five remains unexplained

-in s1 the commission is set in 1955 (1x06), in s3 it's set in 1953 (3x07) and this remains unexplained

-klaus was kidnapped in just a towel but Hazel and Cha-Cha have his jacket for some reason

-all of the Founder Five plotline bc there is no given reasoning for why Five would willingly go against all of his morals and create the organisation that caused him pain (both emotional and physical) and got his family killed.

-if Luther was on the moon for a purpose, why not have him running useful tests to make sure Abigail's pod remains functioning? or acting as a sentry to make sure no one sends an exploration mission to the moon/behind the moon? why just have him send samples, that reginald never even opens, every day for 4 years? and how could sparrow reginald know what umbrella reginald planned for Luther? they're different people.

-edit: 12/07/24 the newspaper Five finds in the apocalypse is dated as 1st April, but when he finds the same newspaper at the end of season 1, it's still March 31st and Diego says that newspaper was sold that morning.

#tua #the umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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slvttyharlow · 4 months

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 craving his touch : jack harlow.

script. after you and jack decide to keep your relationship a secret to the public, you try your hardest not to get caught but once you start to crave his touch, things start getting messy.

ratings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! | sfw/nsfw, fem! black! actress! reader, fluff, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v + a lil dirty talk. wc. 1.6k.

director's note. i'm so excited to be posting this, first smut on this acc, a bit nervous but i hope you guys love it. will be going back to writing so i can put out more pics for y'all.

masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

"Girl, are you even listening?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth.

The award show you were at was the last thing on your mind; sure you were glad to be nominated for the best actress award and other categories but as much as you loved your friends company, you weren't sitting next to the one person that made you smile.

Jack and you decided it was best for the both of you to sit at separate tables so people didn't suspect that you two were a couple and now you were regretting that idea.

You were missing his touch, if you were sitting together now, he probably would have had his hand caressing your thigh under the table while whispering sweet things to you.

But instead he’s four tables away from you as he sat with his friends and they look deep in conversation so he probably wasn't feeling the same way.

"Clearly, your mind is somewhere else. What's on your mind?" Solana, your best friend asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slight worry placed on her face.

"Nothing, just can't wait to reach home and lay in my bed," you spoke, biting your bottom lip nervously not sure if she was going to believe your lie.

You hated lying to your best friend, one can only think how upset she will be once she finds out what you have been hiding from her.

A secret relationship meant no one knowing about your relationship with Jack. It was your idea to start one as you didn't want the world in your business; with the shaderoom documenting every part of your life, you wanted to keep the peace of your love life.

What if you and Jack don’t work out, the world would be in the front row seats, watching your relationship fail and you didn't want that.

Then sometimes the paparazzi and the fans won’t give celebrities a chance to enjoy their life so them not knowing gives the two of you a chance to enjoy your relationship in peace and quiet without anyone input which is another problem with being a celebrity.

Solana eyebrows furrowed together as she didn’t believe it but before she gets to open her mouth to rebuttal, an announcer starts speaking and you let out a relief sigh.

“And the best actress award goes to…” they begun as they open the envelope.

Your friends that surrounded you grab your hands, squeezing it tight and you smile heavy as you awaited for the response.

“[First name, Last name]!” the announcer exclaimed as the audience cheered; your friends screaming in your ear while the shock displayed on your face.

You get up from your chair and make your way to the stage, eyes locking onto Jack's who had the widest smile on his face, making your face heat up.

You walk up the stairs and hug the two announcers before accepting the award from them. "Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening!" you spoke in the mic, trying to calm your racing heart, taking slow breaths.

"I'm so grateful to my fans, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you guys," you start as you look into the crowd. "Sometimes I be feeling they gas me up too much," you chuckle as the audience laugh.

"I wanna thank my family for always believing in me, my wonderful friends that support me and show me so much love..." you continued and your eyes land on Jack's once again, you could see how proud he was in his eyes and smile.

"I want to thank this special person that entered my life unexpectedly, they match my energy and just wanna say thanks for sticking with me," you exclaimed as you lock eye contact with him as he discreetly blows a kiss to you before you walk behind stage as the award show goes to commercials.

You decided to head to the bathroom as you needed to collect yourself after that moment, you couldn't believe you actually won.

You were so nervous being up on stage as you looked out into the audience, everyone staring at you while you made your speech but once you made eye contact with Jack, all the nervousness seem to wash away.

You kept walking, almost thinking you were lost until all of a sudden, you feel a hand pull you into a room, your senses on high thinking your in danger but as your nose takes a whiff of a familiar cologne, you open your eyes, noticing you were in the bathroom and taking in the sight of your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling heavy.

“Jack! What the hell?!” You fire out as you punch him in the chest before crossing your arms over your chest. “You frightened the shit outta me!”

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he rubbed his chest. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

“And congratulate you on your win, you deserve it,” Jack praised as a grin spread across your face as you hug him, taking in his cologne. “Thanks baby.”

You hold onto him for a bit longer until you were finally able to break the hug. “I missed you too by the way, the whole show you were on my mind,” you admit as your eyes lock onto his lips before returning back to his eyes, Jack notices as he leans in and claimed your lips.

A small moan escapes your mouth as your tongues dangled together, gripping each other tight — the two of you been anticipating a moment like this to get your hands on each other and you didn’t want it end so soon.

“How about you lock the door and physically congratulate me?,” you smirked, pulling away from the kiss, pulling on his tie seductively. Jack flashes his famous smiles at you before locking the door and you pull up your dress revealing your bare pussy to him.

“No panties? I think you planned for this exact moment,” Jack comment as he hoisted you up on the counter briefly before unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down; immediately lining up his cock with your entrance with how wet you were, he would slide right in with no problem.

"Ahhh... Jack, please hurry..." you whined, a little impatient having to wait hours without his touch, plus you didn't know how long y'all had before someone wanted to use the bathroom.

Jack nodded his head in response briefly before sliding into your throbbing hole. "Fuck..." he groaned, once he was all the way inside you, starting at a slow pace, gently moving his hips in and out.

Soft moans exit your mouth as you held onto him, he watches how his cock disappears and reappears even more wet than before. His grip on you becomes tighter as he changes the pace he’s going at, plunging in and out of you and you try so hard to hold back the moans that want to escape so it wouldn’t attract attention.

You run your fingers through his hair before gripping on it softly as continues his torture on your cunt. “Shit…” you cursed under your breath, trying to catch your breath but every thrust knocks it back out of you.

“You feel s’good babe,” he groaned as he felt your gummy walls tighten around his length, knowing you were close and he wasn’t far behind you.

The thrill of getting caught excited Jack, he’s been wanting to show you out as his, scream to the rooftop of how he had an amazing girlfriend.

He focuses on making you feel every inch of him, loving the way you gripped on his hair, loving how your core sucked him in, his favorite sound coming out your mouth.

“Jack… I’m coming…” you cried out as your cunt flutter around his cock as the coil in your stomach snaps. Jack gives you four more strokes before releasing his hot seed deep inside you, groaning as he intertwined his lips with yours as you rode your highs together.

“Wow,” he spoke as the both of you try to catch your breathes. “Baby, I don’t think I can handle going back to sitting apart from you, how about we go home?” You offered with a smile, hoping he say yes.

“Hm, can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he taunt and you shove him playfully. “Oh shut up.”

“Yes we can go home but we got to be careful in not getting caught,” he chuckled as he set you down on your feet and you both fix yourselves as best as you could.

“Ladies first,” Jack comments while you made sure your appearance was good and you smile, giving him a quick kiss on his lips before walking out the bathroom, giggling a bit of what the two of you had done.

You walk outside the building onto the red carpet and quickly looked around seeing no one in sight, smiling from ear to ear as you made your way to your car, the driver opening your door for you. “Thank you,” you smiled at him as you get in the backseat.

Jack waited until after your car drove off to step outside, he was so eager to get home that he forgot to fix his hair and tie. He got into his car quickly, manspreading in the seat as he recalled what happened in the bathroom and he couldn’t wait to get home to start a round two.

The two of you thought you were lucky enough not to get caught leaving the award show early but unknown to you two, there was a photographer outside that did caught a pic of the two of you leaving, thinking that the shaderoom and the rest of the world will want to know this information he came upon.

shaderoom posted two seconds ago: while celebrities were enjoying the award show, Jack Harlow and [Name] [Last name] were seen fleeing the scene, why did they leave so early, why didn’t they go to the after party and what happened to Jack’s appearance?

comment section. @itsyagirljaz, @j0hkiya @harlowarchives, @bernelflo, @iheartharlow + @jackmans-poison.

#𐑺 : now in theaters #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow story #jack harlow concepts

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mishelkie-art · 3 months

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Hello~ As promised, here are the 2017 versions of my Strawhat mermaid designs in comparison to the 2023/2024 versions. I originally had posted these to a different account, however I haven't posted any art on that blog in a long time, I think maybe since 2017? And now I don't really think of it as an art blog anymore. I originally started this blog so I could post the full and better quality versions of my art that I couldn't on Insta (cuz it SUCKS), but now I think I'll also post new stuff I come up with, instead of Insta being my main. Anyway-

To start with, as I mentioned in my last post, these designs were born from a specific AU in mind. In this AU, there isn't just one kind of merfolk, but merfolk were instead made up of many groups of different kinds of merpeople. Sharks, for example, were their own subgroup. Another example would be a group including aquatic mammals like whales and dolphins, and another group would be crustaceans, ect. I think in my first go at turning the Strawhats in merfolk I limited myself too much, like three of them were sharks and the others were just other kinds of fish. I do like Franky as a lionfish, but I changed him to a humpback whale to showoff more of the differences and similarities between the different kinds of merfolk. Plus, after the timeskip I think he's now canonically the slowest member of the crew, so making him a large animal that's been known to protect other species of animals from orcas seemed fitting, ya know?

With brook, he straight up was just some random fish that I really can't remember the name of, and I'm happy that this time around I did more research and found an animal that fits the spooky nature of his devil fruit. Overall, I think everyone got a glow up, but out of all of them I think Zoro's my favorite. I hate how I gave him that serious broody expression when it doesn't suit our beloved himbo idiot at all lol I feel the new version can be intimidating still, but also comes across as softer thanks to the colored lines and use of pinks and soft red. I don't know what I was thinking making Sanji primarily yellow, like his Wano outfit looks good but yellow is mainly his Germa color 😭 2nd time around I made him blue for his All Blue, and I wasn't sure if it came through, but I tried to curl and color his tail fins to make them look like crashing waves.

Unfortunately, at the time I drew these Jinbei wasn't an "official" member of the crew, so I hadn't thought to draw him. Also, I feel that I mistyped in the last post in regards to Vivi, by "original design", I was referring to the CANON design, not a previous design that I had come up with 😓

But yeah, I can't believe it's been seven years since I drew the first versions of these designs, I swtg ever since 2020 the years have just been blurring together lol

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evilbihan · 3 months

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Congratulations, OP, on making the most factually incorrect post I've ever seen on this hellsite.

Let's take this trainwreck of an "analysis" apart step by step, shall we?

Oh, good lord, now I'm seeing Bi-Han stans say his father was abusive. There is literally nothing in MK1 implying that.

In the previous timeline, Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father literally kidnapped them and killed their mother and sister, then raised them to become assassins against their will, but now we're supposed to believe that man's a saint?

I've said this in a different post before and I'll repeat it here too: The core essence of every character in MK1 is basically still the same as it was in the old timeline. Geras is still loyal to his creator (previously Kronika, now Liu Kang), Scorpion might be a different person now but he's still vengeful, Sindel is good now, but she's still a merciless ruler, Kung Lao is still ambitious, etc. Not a single one of these characters is a completely new and different person. Following that logic, the same thing would apply to the old grandmaster.

At first glance, it may seem like nothing implies that Bi-Han's and Kuai Liang's father was abusive, but that's only if you ignore anything outside of the main story.

I made an entire post about it here, but I'll give you the short version:

Additionally, there was a node in the previous season of invasions mode that involved another fight with Bi-Han, titled "second best". Second best at what? We know that in the old timeline, Bi-Han was the Lin Kuei's best assassin. Therefore, this could have only been referring to the new era's Bi-Han, again confirming that their father had a favorite son, Kuai Liang, not Bi-Han.

Believe it or not, this is a form of emotional abuse.

Y'all (thirsty fandom bitches) are so obsessed with your villain faves being victims of parental abuse, even when canon doesn't imply that or literally says otherwise. I've seen it in the Scream fandom, now it's in the MK fandom, too.

Still not convinced? How about we change perspectives from my favorite character to my least favorite one then? Everyone who's been following this blog knows I can't stand Kuai Liang, but I even believe him to be a victim of abuse at his own father's hand, albeit in a different way than Bi-Han.

Nitara: Had you ever known hunger, you wouldn't judge us. Scorpion: I have, and I will.

So, what does this intro tell us?

Kuai Liang has known hunger, so there must have been a period in his life where he has been starving, but why? Poverty seems highly unlikely. The Lin Kuei seem well organized and in his tower ending, Bi-Han talks about how many of their resources were spent on the cyber initiative, so I doubt the Lin Kuei were ever poor or he wouldn't have been able to afford all that technology at all. The brothers also come across as quite arrogant. Growing up poor would have probably made them more humble.

So, why was Kuai Liang starving? Would loving parents let their children starve? Was it perhaps part of their training or a way to punish them for disobedience? And if so, why does Kuai Liang still think and speak so highly of his father? Stockholm syndrome maybe.

And let's say it wasn't the grandmaster's fault that they were starving, then wouldn't it make Bi-Han's ambition to give the clan more wealth and power noble instead of selfish? It would mean no more starving for any of the Lin Kuei in the future.

Regardless of your takeaway from this, the end result remains the same: Bi-Han is not evil.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole. He's power-hungry and he is a bad person. Him murdering his father (whom his brothers haven't implied anything bad about) is no surprise, and trying to make up completely non-canon things to justify it because you can't handle liking a fictional villain is moronic.

Bi-Han has always been an asshole? Always as in previous timelines? Because by that logic, his father has always been an asshole too. See how you're contradicting yourself here? Secondly, Bi-Han is not a bad person. That's straight up wrong.

Ashrah said he's redeemable.

Kuai Liang said he and Bi-Han were once close.

Bi-Han shows genuine regret over Sindel's death.

Tomas, one of the nicest characters in the game, used to look up to Bi-Han.

Kitana's announcer voice when selecting Bi-Han: "You were a decent person once."

He's flawed, not evil.

The only person making up completely non-canon things is you.

Oh, and for the record, I'm a huge fan of Homelander and there's no saving grace to that man. I don't care though, I love villains.

Here's the punchline though, Bi-Han isn't a villain, he's an anti-hero/anti-villain type of character. Do some research.

It's Bi-Han. Bi-Han would sell his little brother to Shang Tsung for a single corn chip! (And I don't mean Tomas; he'd give away Tomas for free.)

Bi-Han literally refused to deliver Kuai Liang to Kronika in MK11 as Noob when Geras told him to.

Geras: Bring your brother to Kronika. Noob Saibot: The dead are my clan. Geras: Do you serve or do you not?

Bi-Han doesn't wish harm upon either of his brothers in MK1 either, he tells them multiple times to surrender and join him. Just watch their intros, it's all there. He even admitted that he wanted Kuai Liang to rule by his side. In his intros with Shang Tsung, he also mentions that he regrets ever trusting him.

The whole original post is a joke. Implying that people who are upset over mischaracterization and bad writing must be thirsting over a character is just ridiculous.

How wrong do you want to be?

OP: yes.

#bi han #bi-han #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #mk sub zero #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 #mk scorpion #tomas vrbada #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #noob saibot #mk11 #fandom nonsense #i made my own post as to not give the original one more notes

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oftenderweapons · 2 months

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Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away.

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away.

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys.

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright.

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!”

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting.

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog.

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing.

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so.

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist.

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice.

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat.

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk.

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living.

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting.

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold.

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun.

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it.

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat.

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio.

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north.

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls.

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start.

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala.

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of.

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him.

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either.

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English.

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time.

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer.

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun.

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career.

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world.

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi.

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!”

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar.

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza.

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been.

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.”

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer.

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry.

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin.

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific.

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?”

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.”

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?”

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.”

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet.

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.”

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that.

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice.

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you.

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar.

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily.

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly.

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?”

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite.

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—”

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.”

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.”

You breathed out the tiniest laugh.

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more.

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign.

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough.

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?”

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked.

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room.

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.”

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts.

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.”

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.”

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.”

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?”

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle.

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so.

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed.

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.”

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things.

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you.

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him.

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband.

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately.

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.”

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.”

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face.

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?”

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?”

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that.

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side.

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply.

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new.

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety.

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life.

He would remember tonight forever.

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic.

How wrong he was.

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing.

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving.

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice.

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less.

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look.

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him.

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself.

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit.

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!”

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh.

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend.

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning.

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that?

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun.

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too.

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold.

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit.

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs.

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?”

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.”

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?”

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him?

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric.

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds.

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you.

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation.

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose.

The storm was coming.

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was.

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight.

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out.

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it.

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you.

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen.

You were ruined.

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain.

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear.

Part 2 will be out now!!

#bourbon bossa nova #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #bts blog #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi imagine

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acewritesfics · 10 months

Text

I Believe You Dropped Something, Mr Shelby | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No.

Warnings: Mentions reader is from London.

Word Count: 1,707

Tommy Shelby Masterlist

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. YOU CAN FIND THE ORIGINAL POST STILL FLOATING AROUND ON TUMBLR SOMEWHERE. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Y/N leaves her new flat and begins the walk to a pub she overheard a few men discussing, determining she needed to go out for a few hours. She'd been unpacking her belongings for three days. She was delighted to discover The Garrison was only a block away from where she currently resides.

The noise of the patrons inside quietens as she enters the drinking establishment. All eyes are on her as she saunters towards the bar. She tries to ignore the stares as much as she can. The bar is full of locals, and she isn't one of them.

"Could I please have a whiskey?" she asks, her London brogue heavy.

"Scotch or Irish?" the bartender says, moving away from her as he pulls a glass from the shelf.

"Irish." She responds and glances around the pub as he pours her drink. Most people have stopped staring at her, but a few are still glancing at her, some lusty, others puzzled and intrigued.

"You're not from around here, are ya love?" the bartender asks, placing the glass of whisky in front of her.

"What gave it away?" she replies, smiling pleasantly at him.

"First and foremost, you have a lovely face, far too pretty for this place." He enlightens her.

However, she does not agree with him. "I'm sure there are a lot of women around here with pretty faces and I'm sure they are much prettier than mine."

"Not as elegant as you," he says as he looks her up and down.

"You said first and foremost," she responds to his remarks with interest. "I'm interested in hearing your other observations."

"Your accent certainly distinguishes you from the other women here. You don't just look fancy; you sound it too," He goes on. "Also, the ambience you exude."

"My ambience?" She lifts her brow, having never heard that one before.

"You have a poshness about ya."

She lets out a low chuckle and extends her hand towards him, "Y/N L/N, from London."

"Harry Fenton, born and bred in Birmingham." He extends his hand to hers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss L/N."

"Mr Fenton, please call me Y/N. I'm not as formal as you may think." She tells him.

"As long as you call me as Harry, Love." He proposes reaching an agreement with her.

The two converse for another hour, Y/N ordering another two glasses of whiskey until three men saunter into the pub like they own it, the ruckus from the other guests quickly dying down. Y/N's watches the three men as they make their way to a room off to the side of the bar. A chill goes down her spine as her E/C eyes connect with a set of vivid blue ones looking back at her. She knows she should look elsewhere right away, but she can't bring herself to do so feeling as though she's drowning in his eyes.

"Would you mind getting us a bottle of whiskey, Harry?" The man talks as he goes to pass through the entrance of the private room, the older and younger men already inside.

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. She wasn't expecting his voice's smooth silky tone to be as alluring as his eyes and sounding as handsome as his face looks.

"On the house, Mr. Shelby," Harry replies, his tone shifting from one of delight to one of trepidation in a matter of seconds. It's enough to divert Y/N's attention away from the mystery man with the lovely but cold eyes.

Hearing the door close, she turns to face Harry, whose cheery grin has faded. "Who exactly are they?"

"Peaky Blinders," he says quickly, taking a bottle from the shelf and heading to the private room. He returns a few minutes later, his mood worse than when he stepped inside the room.

Despite knowing she'll regret it once it's done, she can't suppress the curiosity building inside her and asks anyway, "Who exactly are the Peaky Blinders?"

"It's best you not know," he asserts.

"I'm going to need to know since this is now my home."

"All you need to know, Love, is keep out of their way and they'll stay out of yours," He cautions.

Deep down, she got the feeling that, that would be easier said than done.

The city girl heeded Harry's warning for the following three weeks. She socialises with a couple of the locals in the pub and befriending her new neighbours. They weren't as hesitant as Harry to tell her all about the Shelby Brothers, what they stood for and how they dealt with things around Small Heath. There is Arthur - the oldest and most chaotic of the three, John - the youngest and best looking, according to the many women around town, of the three, and then there's Thomas, Tommy Shelby - the one in the middle who didn't hesitate to take over the family business when he needed to, pushing his older brother from leader to right-hand man. The more Y/N learns about the Shelby Brothers, the more she heeds Harry's warning, which she repeats whenever one of the Shelbys is mentioned or seen.

But just while she's paying attention to the warning, it didn't stop her from making eye contact with Tommy, his gaze constantly sending a cold chill her spine, but she still couldn't bring herself to look away. She gets a feeling there is more to Thomas Shelby behind his cold, hard, and beautiful blue eyes. He intimidated her while also captivating her.

Walking into the Garrison on a Tuesday night was a little odd for Y/N. She normally stayed at home on Tuesday evenings to go through the weekly newspaper job ads before going out on Wednesdays to apply for any job she had expertise with. She's been turned down everywhere she's gone so far. But there is one place she has yet to try.

"Good evening, Y/N," Harry cheerfully greets the young woman. Since the first night she stepped into the Garrison, Harry and Y/N have grown close. In some ways, he's taken her under his wing, teaching her everything she needs to know about Small Heath and supporting her as she settles in to her new surroundings.

"Good evening, Harry," she returns his greeting with her own, and looks around the bar, waving hello to the few people she gotten to know. "Quiet night tonight?"

"It's a bit on the quiet side," Harry says, taking a glass and a bottle of Irish whiskey off the shelf and pouring her a drink. He never needs to ask because she always orders the same drink.

"Can I ask you a question?" She enquires, a little anxiously.

"You already did, Love, but go ahead," He teases her a little but encourages her to continue.

"How desperate are you for a new barmaid?" She asks him.

"If you're going to recommend I hire you, you can think again," He frowns at her. He has no intention of hiring a woman like her to work at his pub. Sure her pretty face would attract the customers but a majority of the drunk men would only cause trouble for the young lady.

"I know a majority of your regulars, I get along with them just fine, I've proven I can handle drunken men, and I know how to pour a drink," she claims.

Harry looks at her as if he's still not convinced. He would never allow his daughter to work in a place where there is alcohol and rowdy men whose only way to escape the war is to drink themselves to death, and he would not let a lady who is quickly becoming like a daughter to him work in one either.

"Please, Harry," she begs quietly. "No one else will hire me, but if you do, I'll be eternally grateful, and you can quit fretting about not having any help."

Her words are breaking him down as she continues to list all the reasons why the middle-aged bartender should hire her. It doesn't take long for him to succumb to the young beauty's charms.

"Alright! You can start tonight but on a trial basis. You'll remain here till midnight. If everything goes well, we can talk about a payment schedule tomorrow."

She smiles at the bartender, pleased.

"What are you waiting for?" He exclaims, unable to disguise his smile as he hurls a smock at her. "Put on the apron, get back here, and start pouring some drinks."

She follows his orders and begins taking orders. When she has a minute to spare, he pulls her to the side and reminds her of the Shelby Brothers rule, speaking it as if it was a law. "Remember, when the Shelbys arrive, all their drinks are on the house."

"Do the Shelbys ever pay for anything?" She asks, and quickly regrets it when a voice other than Harry's answers her.

"When we feel like it," On the other side of the bar, Thomas Shelby stands in front of her.

Y/N's cheeks heat with embarrassment. She was unaware that Tommy had entered the pub. Her entire body is frozen to the spot, and she is speechless as her eyes are locked on his icy blue gaze. He smirks to himself, enjoying the effect he appears to have on this woman he's never spoken to before now.

For a brief period, Tommy's gaze shifts to Harry. Y/N diverts her attention by wiping the small spill on the bar top, then moves to the shelf containing the bottles of alcohol, where she discovers her voice. "What would you like, Mr. Shelby?"

"Whiskey, Irish," He tells her.

She gets the bottle from the shelf and brings it over to him with some glasses, while avoiding eye contact. "It's on the house, Mr. Shelby."

"Thank you, Miss L/N." He smirks, causing her head to snap up to meet his gaze, her eyes as wide as saucers. She hadn't expected him to know her name. He says nothing further, his smirk staying as he places some money on the bar before heading to the private room.

"I believe you dropped something, Mr. Shelby," Her voice stops him.

He smirks again, "Keep it, it's not mine."

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE

@forgottenpeakywriter

#acewritesfics repost #tommy shelby x reader

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newtthetranswriter · 11 months

Text

Delayed Mark

Word count: 5539

Paring: Choso x Gn! Reader

Summary: In a world with soulmates you were the only one born without a mark. After 25 years thinking you will never have a soulmate, your mark randomly appears. Only a few weeks later you find your soulmate during one of the worst curse attacks Jujutsu Sorcerers have seen since the Night parade of a hundred Demons.

Warnings: Spoilers for Choso’s character and history in general, slight spoilers for Kenjaku, Mentions of blood and death, if i missed anything let me know.

A/n: Hello people this has been in the works for a long time but finally got inspiration to finish it. The end might seem a bit rushed but I wanted to finally post it. So you aren’t surprised one satosugu is canon, Shoko x Haibara is real and you can fight me on it. Anyway I hope you enjoy and Remember to Hydrate or Diedrate, I’m looking at you @ness-iness . Also requests are open. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

I had to be the least lucky person alive. In a world where everyone has a mark on their body to tell them who their soulmate is, I was born without one. It's extremely rare for something like this to happen. No one knows why or how it happened. But when I was born it was evident that I was unmarked, destined to spend forever alone.

When I was younger it wasn't that bad because I didn't fully understand what it meant. Then when I reached middle school and all my friends started meeting their soulmates, I felt left out. My parents tried to tell me that 'maybe it will show up later' or that 'there is someone out there for you even if you don't have a mark.' They even went as far as to say I didn't need a soulmate to be happy. I wanted to believe them but in our world it can be hard, with happy soulmates everywhere you look.

It became even more apparent when I entered highschool and transferred to Jujutsu Tech. Though the number of people around was small, it was clear that everyone had a soulmate. It felt like fate was rubbing it in my face that I was to be forever alone. And I accepted that I didn't need a soulmate to be happy. Even though I had accepted it, there were still people trying to tell me that having a soulmate was the best thing. I was growing tired of it, until I got to know two fellow sorcerers who had lost their soulmates and believed that even without them they can find a way to be happy.

There's Saturo Gojo, a special grade sorcerer who's soulmate turned his back on sorcerers and set out to wipe out all non-sorcerers. During an attack on Tokyo and Kyoto, his soulmate was killed trying to attack the first years at Jujutsu Tech. Gojo viewed soulmates as pointless because even though he had one and lost him he was still able to be happy with his life.

Then there's Shoko, she was a third year at Jujutsu Tech when her soulmate was killed on a mission he was sent on. It hurt her greatly when she couldn't save him, especially because she is known for using reverse curse technique. She thought while soulmates could be an amazing thing, it was also painful when you lost them and thought maybe things would be better without them.

Don't get me wrong, Gojo and Shoko both loved their soulmates and wouldn't change having met them. They just thought it could be more painful than what it's worth. I agree, having a soulmate must be wonderful but I don't have one so all I've experienced is the pain of watching others be happy with something I can't have. And so Me, Gojo, and Shoko all tried to make the best of everything. We focused on exercising curses and teaching the next generations of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

I'm like an assistant teacher to Gojo, helping out the first years when he's out on missions and just helping with training in general. I would also sometimes help the second years if they needed it.

Right now I am accompanying the first years on a mission to investigate strange deaths. Three people were found dead just inside their homes or apartment buildings, after having reported odd happenings with the locks or door mechanisms. This fact led the higher ups to believe that it was the work of a cursed spirit and sent the first years to figure it out. I was there to make sure none of them died, instructions from Gojo after what happened with the curse womb at the juvenile detention center.

We were currently at Megumi's old middle school, talking with faculty about the men who had died, as they had also attended the school in their youth. I wasn't really focused on the conversation as I was there as more of a body guard then an actual assistant for the first years. I felt it best to let them take care of the questions and figure everything out so they could learn for future experiences.

While Kugisaki and Itadori were poking fun at Megumi for how he used to act in middle school, I started to feel a weird tingling sensation on my left wrist. It was strange, almost like pins and needles. I tried rubbing my wrist to get the feeling to go away but it wasn't working, when I looked at it there was nothing there.

After a few minutes of the weird feeling it went away. I was confused as nothing like this had ever happened before. But seeing as there was no evidence that it happened I brushed it off, if it was important there would be evidence that it happened.

The three students had found out that all of the victims had gone to the same bridge together back when they were in middle school. So they decided to go try and investigate, to see if they could lure out the cursed spirit.

I had joined them at the bridge as I didn't want to risk the curse showing up without me there. As the three tried different things like walking under the bridge, and even throwing Itadori over the side tied to a string (this nearly gave me a heart attack), to lure out the curse, I stood watch. I was completely focused on watching Kugisaki and Megumi pulling Itadori up, so it startled me that my wrist started to feel weird again.

At first it was just pins and needles like before, but then it started to burn a little bit. I lifted my wrist to investigate and was shocked to see a small picture forming on the inside of my wrist. It looked like a drop of water based on the outline. I watched as it became more visible, slowly turning to a blood red color. I was extremely perplexed, what the hell is happening, I thought to myself. I was so focused on the mark that I didn't notice the three teenagers walking up to me.

"Hey Y/n, nothing's happening. Maybe there's another connection or we missed something." Itadori said nearly bouncing over to me. As he got closer he noticed I wasn't paying attention to him. "What are you looking at? Get a scratch or something?" He asked, drawing the attention of the other two.

Megumi leaned over to take a look at my wrist, also confused as to what had me so distracted. "Holy shit" I heard him mutter as he came to the same conclusion that I was still trying to wrap my head around. "When did that show up?" He asked, confusing his classmates.

"I-it just showed up. I was just standing here watching you three to make sure nothing happened and my wrist started to tingle and then burn. After that it just slowly appeared." I explained what little I knew about the situation. "Why would this show up now, I've gone my whole life without it being there why is it here now. I was fine and happy without having to worry about it." I started ranting.

Kegusaki looked at me confused before finally asking the question that perplexed her and Itadori. "What are you talking about and why does Fushiguro know about it?"

Knowing I was probably feeling too many emotions to explain anything, Megumi spoke up. "It's complicated and right here probably isn't the best place to explain it." We then met up with our diver at a small convenience store. I had almost completely shut down from the sudden appearance of my soul mark.

While we were at the convenience store the first years were still trying to figure out what to do to trigger the curse. After a few minutes of getting nowhere Kugesaki got tired of the topic of conversation.

"We are getting nowhere with this. Let's change the topic for a second." The redhead said, turning to me. "What's up with you? What happened while we were on the bridge?" She was confused yet curious as to what happened. Sure she was being a little pushy about it but that's how she is.

Megumi moved in front of me to try and deflect the questions, and get back to the assignment. "Let's focus on the curse that's killing people, Kugesaki." As he said this Kugesaki rolled her eyes.

"Come on Fushiguro, they're here to supervise and make sure none of us die. If their so thrown off by what ever happened, we all need to be made aware." She said making a valid point.

As Megumi tried to say something else I put my hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. He looked at me concerned but he knew that I wouldn't say anything I didn't want to. "What happened on the bridge that threw me off is, my soul mark appeared. I've lived 25 years without one and was fully prepared to live without it. I don't know what caused it to suddenly appear because if I had a soulmate it would have been there when I was born. I'm still able to watch over you guys, it just startled me." I explained hopefully calming their nerves. "I'm not worried about it, it's probably nothing. Let's just focus on figuring out what's going on with this cursed spirit." Itadori nodded but still looked confused and Kugesaki looked pleased with the explanation.

As I finished explaining what happened, one of the students from the middle school pulled up on a bike with a young woman asking to talk to Megumi about the weird deaths. The young woman explained that there was a sort of ritual to go out to the bridge. She had also informed Megumi that his sister had done the test of courage as well. Being even more determined to stop this curse, with his sister’s life at stake, we all headed back to the bridge.

After doing the steps to summon the curse, it seemed we had entered the curse’s domain. As the students began to fight the curse a strange green round curse appeared behind us. When the initial confusion wore off, Itadori offered to take the hideous curse on by himself while the other two delta with bridges curse.

While the two fights occurred Kugisaki was forced close to the edge of the barrier. I watched in shock as two hands reached through and pulled her out of the barrier. The green curse exclaimed something about his brother being there and rushed out of the barrier. Megumi took charge of the situation and ordered Itadori to go after the curse and assist Kugisaki. I would have stepped in but I had an odd feeling about the curses outside of the barrier. Like in some distant way they weren’t normal curses. I couldn’t react.

I was only able to watch as Megumi was able to finish off the cursed spirit that was cursing people. The only problem was the barrier didn’t dissipate. As I was about to ask if he was sure he finished exercising the curse, a more humanoid curse fell from the ceiling. Taking a defensive stance ready to take on the curse, as it appeared to be a much higher grade than the previous curse. Megumi stepped in front of me.

“I’ll handle this, You were only sent here to keep us from dying. You just wait, if it looks like I’m done, go ahead and step in. It’s not a good idea for you to be using your cursed energy for battle right now.” He said summoning Demon Dog: Totality to help him in the fight. He made a good point, my cursed technique was better for defense and recovery. I could create a simple barrier around myself or someone else that was similar to Gojo’s infinity, but could still be broken with enough force. I am also able to use the reversed curse technique on others, not as efficiently as Shoko but still enough to keep someone on death's door from dying while waiting for Shoko. It made sense for me to wait, my techniques took a lot of energy, and the few offensive abilities I had were not suited for close combat. So I watched waiting for a moment that I would be needed.

The fight between the special grade and Megumi went on for a while. There were a few points where I almost jumped into the fight but was stopped by the admittedly over confident teenager. Eventually he was able to exercise the curse and retrieve Sukana’s finger. He collapsed shortly after as the barrier disappeared around us. I immediately went to work healing his more major injuries, as he eventually passed out on the ground.

A few minutes after the dark haired teen passed out the other two students hobbled on to the scene. “Oh my god, is he dead?” Itadori asked, looking at his friend passed out on the ground. This comment received a smack to the back of his head from Kugisaki as she quickly explained he was probably passed out and that I wouldn’t have let him die. He then noticed the cursed object sitting on the ground not far from Megumi and went to pick it up. “Do you want me to carry this since you’re busy healing Fushiguro?” He asked. As I was about to tell him he could as long as he didn’t eat it, a mouth formed on the palm of his hand consuming the finger.

I rolled my eyes as he started to defend himself, trying to explain it was Sukana who did that and he didn’t mean too. “It’s fine, Itadori. Next time I’ll just carry it. Now help me get Megumi up and back to the road.” I said moving to stand up, deciding it was time we head back to Jujutsu tech.

It’s been about a month since the incident at the bridge, and since the mark on my arm appeared. For the most part I’ve ignored it, but when I see it I struggle not to spiral into a long train of questions as to why it randomly appeared, and what triggered it. Shoko proposed that it may have something to do with the two cursed wombs Itadori and Kugisaki killed. She suspected after performing autopsies on the corpses, that they were somehow two of the death paintings that were stolen during the sister school exchange event. She told me that it was possible that the third one was also fused with a human and incarnated into a living being, and it happened to be my soulmate. This thought concerned me, My soulmate was possibly a deformed human corpse fused with a cursed object, great.

Though it wasn’t any worse than the idea Saturo had. He had told me with a straight face that it took 25 years for my soulmark to appear because my soulmate hadn’t been born yet and they were probably a couple weeks old at this point. I know he was joking because one, many soulmate pairings had massive age gaps and the older party still had their mark at birth, and secondly because as soon as he saw the look of disgust on my face he burst out laughing his ass off.

I was glad that even though jokes were being made, Gojo and Shoko weren’t pushing me away for getting my soulmark. They treated me no differently, after all they had once had their own soulmates with them, even if it was far too short of a time for their liking. And don’t get me wrong I still have a distaste for the thought of soulmates, but for the first time in my life there is actual hope. Maybe it was just a mistake in the universe and whatever gave soulmarks was like shit missed one and fixed it, or maybe Shoko is right and my soulmate is an incarnated cursed object. Who knows but hopefully I find them soon and can experience the joy I’ve witnessed so many times over, even if it’s only for a short moment.

Timeskip to shibuya arc

It’s been a few weeks since my soulmark appeared and I can’t help but feel anxious. Part of it is the excitement of finally having a soulmate but the other part is things have been getting worse in the Jujutsu community. With suspicion of a traitor at the kyoto school, the first years were requested to investigate. The problem with that was the suspected traitor was nowhere to be found and the trail went cold.

Just over a week later all hell broke loose at a transit station in Shibuya. Many sorcerers were dispatched to wait as back up in case Gojo was unable to handle the citation. I had been waiting with Nanami, Ino and Megum when we were told to enter the barrier. Not long after entering, the shouts of Yuji Itadori could be heard throughout the veil. Deciding a change of plans, we met with Itadori and were informed that Saturo had been sealed by the special grade curses that had organized the attack.

While Nanami went to speak with Ijichi, the rest of us went to look for a way to dismantle the barriers. Currently Megumi and Itadori are fighting the curse user who had the objects creating the barrier, and me and Ino are trying to fight the other two on top of the building. We were given a shock when the man Ino was battling turned into Toji Fushiguro, gaining all the power of the dead sorcerer killer. When we thought things couldn’t get worse Ino was taken out and thrown off the side of the building, knowing I didn’t stand a chance in a fight against Toji I jumped hoping Megumi or Itadori would think of a way to save both of us.

My prediction was right as one of Megumi’s shikigami caught me and Itadori managed to catch the unconscious Ino. When we landed, the boys told me that the barrier keeping sorcerers out was dismantled. Assessing the situation I came up with a plan that should help us greatly.

“Ok here’s what’s gonna happen. Megumi and I are going to stay here while I heal Ino enough that he can be moved safely. Itadori you are gonna go try and find wherever Gojo is sealed in Shibuya station. Once I’m sure Ino is safe to move, I’ll follow after itadori to help him out, and Megumi will take Ino to Shoko so she can finish healing him.” I said, causing both boys to look at me in shock. It was a rarity that I would take charge of a situation but there was no time to freeze up right now. Becoming focused on the task of healing my coworker I ignored the boys trusting they will follow instructions.

After about ten minutes I was confident that Ino would be fine to move, so I sent Megumi off to find Shoko while I went after Itadori. On my way to the station I passed Inumaki using his speech to help control the crowds and protect them from the mutated humans. I stopped for a few minutes to offer help in restoring his throat so it wasn’t too damaged from his technique and then went back to going after Itadori.

A few minutes after entering the train station, I started to hear the sound of running water. I also noticed that the area I was in was completely destroyed, thinking the two things may be connected to Itadori. I followed the sound and path of destruction. As I got closer to the bathroom I noticed a large amount of water on the floor that was tinted pink from what I’m guessing is someone’s blood. Turning towards the men’s restroom I saw a familiar head of pink hair slumped against the wall.

“Shit, Itadori are you alright?” I received no response. I kneeled down not caring that my pants would become soaking wet, I checked his pulse with a sigh of relief that he was still alive. Assessing the damage I knew that I would have to get the bleeding in his abdomen to stop or at least slow down a bit, before I could go after the fuck who hurt my student. I began using my reversed curse technique on the boy, focused on hopefully healing him enough that Sukana doesn't see a need to make an appearance.

As I finished healing what I could, I noticed a strange feeling in my gut. It was almost like I was anxious or scared of something. It made no sense, sure I was worried for my friends and students, and the safety of all the non sorcerer's around during this horrible attack, but this feeling was weird. The feeling was almost like it was coming from someone else. Brushing it off, not having time to deal with this, I moved to follow the wet bloody footprints leading away from the bathrooms, assuming they belonged to whoever or whatever did this to Itadori.

Rounding the corner as the footprints became harder to follow, the feeling in my gut got worse and an emotion I could only describe as self loathing joined the anxiety and worry. I was even more confused, I had heard before that when close to your soulmate there is a chance to feel their emotions but why on earth would my soulmate be in a place like this hating themself. Once again hoping it was just my imagination I continued my search. I stopped for a second as I started to hear mumbling coming from a little alcove just in front of me along the wall.

“I almost killed him.” I heard the voice say. I could tell whoever it was, was distressed. “How could I almost kill my own brother?” The voice kept ranting, now I was concerned, this person almost killed their own brother and was now sitting in the deepest reaches of a train station overrun with curses and mutated humans, what was wrong with them.

I approached the alcove with caution, if this person nearly killed someone they could be extremely dangerous. “Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you Ok?” I asked as I got close enough to see a man, probably in his early to mid twenties curled up on himself. He had medium length hair pulled up in two messy buns at the back of his head, he was also wearing a white robe with a purple vest. I couldn’t quite make out his face as it was buried in his knees but as I got closer to him I could feel the copious amounts of cursed energy flowing off him. It wasn’t as intense as Gojo or Okkotsu, but he was definitely special grade.

After a few seconds, he jumped slightly looking up at me for only a moment before going back to his rambling. It’s like he didn’t even register that I asked a question. When he looked at me I could see the long black line across his face, to some it may have been an odd feature but to me it made him look more handsome. It may be weird to say but looking at this person curled in on himself with messy hair mumbling about almost killing someone, I couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. It also didn’t help that the longer I kneeled in front of him the more I felt emotions of anxiety and doubt.

I tried speaking to him again. “Are you ok? Is there anything I can do to help?” The anxious feelings were becoming almost too much for me to handle. If they were coming from this man infront of me I needed to calm him down soon or we would both be having a breakdown. “Just talk to me for a second, I want to make sure you’re not hurt.” That comment seemed to reach him as he stopped mumbling, looking at me and making eye contact.

He stayed frozen looking at me with those beautiful hazel eyes, it was like he was in a trance. I was about to speak again when I decided that a good way to calm him down if I really was feeling his emotions would be doing the opposite, projecting my emotions to my soulmate. If he is the reason behind the blood drop mark on my wrist, sending positive feelings should help him relax. To my surprise as soon as I started to calm myself to a relaxed point, I could see his face settle, he no longer looked like a kicked puppy but more a confused child.

“What did you do to me?” Was the first not mumbled sentence out of his mouth. I looked at him for a moment trying to decide how to explain what I had just figured out.

I settled for smiling at him before explaining gently what just happened between us. “We are soulmates, two people destined to be together. We both have a mark to represent each other somewhere on our body, like this” I showed him my wrist as I explained it all. He looked at the blood drop for a second before he moved his arm to show me his wrist. In the exact same spot was a sphere that looked fairly similar to the barriers I can create around myself.

“So that’s what this weird mark is, Mahito tried to tell me it was nothing and to ignore it.” He spoke explaining his knowledge of the mark. I was unsure of who this Mahito was but it seemed whoever it was, was trying to hide soulmates from him. I was slightly confused how a man in his twenties didn’t know about soulmates, but that was a question for later.

Smiling at him I continued my explanation. “In addition to the marks, when soulmates are close to each other they can feel each other's emotions and strong emotions can influence the other. That's what I did, your feelings of anxiety and doubt were becoming too strong for me to stay focused so I calmed down my own feelings enough to help calm you down.” He nodded at the explanation, looking to the side for a moment before looking back. I could tell he was still a little anxious, whether that was because of finding out about soulmate, or what happened before I found him. I was unsure but I was going to figure it out. “Now that you’ve calmed down a bit do you mind telling me what happened? Why are you hiding in this alcove?” I asked as gently as possible not wanting to send him into another panic attack.

He paused for a second before he started to explain. “I almost killed my little brother. I didn’t know he was my brother when we started fighting but when I was about to deliver the final blow I just knew he was my brother. It was the same feeling I got when my other brothers were killed. I can’t kill my brother even if he was the one to kill our other brothers. I hurt my brother and I have to make up for that. I have to protect him.” He started rambling again, not in the mumbling manner I found him in but it was hard to follow what he was saying. “He almost died because of me, and now he’s probably bleeding out because I hurt him, because I didn't realize who he was sooner.” That sentence caught my attention.

I remembered what led me to this spot, to finding him. Placing my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Slow down for a second, who and where is your brother?” I asked hoping to not get the answer I assumed was coming.

“Yuji Itadori is my little brother. He's in the men’s bathroom.” He answered the question and I could tell he was about to start rambling again. Squeezing his shoulder again I drew his focus back to me.

Pushing away my concern for the fact my soulmate was working with the curse’s that organized the attack. “He’s okay, I was actually looking for him earlier and found him in the bathroom. I was able to use my reverse cursed technique to stop the bleeding and keep him from dying. But what did you mean by he’s your brother, he never talked about having any siblings? Also he killed your other brothers?” I tried to reassure that Itadori was okay, but also asked for clarification. As far as I knew Itadori’s only family was his grandfather who passed away shortly before he became a sorcerer.

He looked at me shocked that I knew who he was talking about. “Thank you. And I don’t know how to explain how he’s my brother, I just know he is. I have such a strong connection with my brothers. I felt when Yuji and Nobara Kugisaki ended the lives of my brothers Eso and Kechizu a few weeks ago, and I felt that same feeling when I was about to kill Yuji for revenge.” He explained in the best way he could.

I nodded in understanding, he attacked Itadori in order to get revenge for his brothers, who I’m assuming were the two curses Itadori and Nobara fought at the bridge. Thinking about it they did say that when they finished off the curses they didn’t disintegrate like a normal curse and were just bodies as if they had killed humans. If that thing was this person's brother then what are they and why does he look so normal. “I can tell you’re confused, I’m assuming you probably were there when Yuji fought my brothers and are wondering what I am.” He was right, but how could he read me so well? I just nodded at him to continue. He went on to explain that he was a cursed object for 150 years until the attack on Jujutsu tech when he and two of his brothers were stolen. He explained that Mahito the patch faced curse, used his technique to give them bodies and use them as tools to fight sorcerers. He briefly explained that they sided with the curses because his brothers wouldn’t have been accepted by humans for the way they looked and he would have rather not had to help the curse who created him.

“What do you mean by helping the curse that created you? Didn’t you say you were a cursed object for 150 years, wouldn’t the curse who made you be exercised by now?” I asked, interrupting his explanation.

“The curse that made me is called Kenjaku, he was once a normal human who used his innate technique to transfer his brain to others to control them. 150 years ago he took over Noritoshi Kamo, using him to experiment on my mother who was able to carry the child of a curse. He tried nine times to get a living specimen but only received nine cursed objects that received the name Death paintings, I was the first one.” He explained his creation. As he was about to continue and explain how he was supposed to be helping Kenjaku in this day and age there was loud rumbling around us.

I stood up quickly pulling him from the alcove looking around. The building looked like it was shaking. “As much as I’d love to keep chatting, I think we should probably get out of here.” I turned to him before I started to pull him in the direction of the exit.

“Wait, we have to get Yuji, we can’t leave him down here.” I heard behind me.

“Look if Yuji is still down here than Sukana has probably taken over and if that’s the case he'll be fine.” i tried to explain, but the look on his face showed he was still concerned. “Listen, I know you want to make it up to him but you can't do that if we get crushed by a collapsing train station. As soon as we get out of this we will go find him I promise. You can trust me, I'm your soulmate after all, I’ll support you through this…” I wanted to address him by name but I realized in all of his explanations he never once told me his name, then again I never told him mine so it wouldn’t have been a fair trade. Continuing to pull him out of the station I decide it’s better late than never. “By the way I’m Y/n Y/l/n, and what can I call my handsome soulmate?” I asked him, feeling him stumble at the compliment.

“Uh Choso. My name is Choso Kamo.” He said as we exited the train station. Finally knowing my soulmate's name felt amazing for some reason. It was probably due to the years of thinking it would never happen but I knew that no matter what this crazy world throws at us next we will handle it together.