#I'm just like... filled to the brim with feels that have nowhere to go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lsunstreakerl · 1 month ago

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just imagine the walk of shame as I bring you all this fic, please and thank you. 6.6k of the tentacle verse I clearly said I would not be revisiting. if you aren't caught up, this verse was born during the smut prompts of February, and you can probably guess what the prompt was! this has also been referred to as the sea creature charles au. part one, part two.

helllooooo this is explicit! there's a chunk in the beginning, and then I got lost in the sauce for worldbuilding, and then back to being explicit near the end.

pairings: charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant heads up: literally everything from the first two fics, a dash of body horror, uh, biting in a violent way, and sharkstappen. questionable dietary habits when you think too hard about it.

Charles has been a massive dick the entire season, and Max is over it. He doesn't want anything to do with him, even though Charles keeps shooting him quick glances at the drivers dinner. He's been trying to get a moment alone with Max for weeks, but Max isn't interested.

He's going to sleep for a week, eat junk food, maybe go clubbing with Daniel, and play video games. It's his entire plan for the break, and nowhere in it does he have Charles.

Charles tries to corner him after dinner anyways, frowning as he boxes Max in a hallway corner as everyone is leaving.

"Max, can we talk? Please? I know you are upset with me, and I want to fix that-"

"You did not seem interested in fixing it during the season."

Max isn't interested in what Charles has to say- wants this conversation to be over with already.

Charles presses his lips together, eyebrows furrowed.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but even if I could just see you over break? Get lunch?"

Whatever gets him off of Max's back.

"Sure."

Max doesn't mean it- has no intention of actually following through, but Charles seems relieved, shoulders relaxing as he gives Max an apologetic grin.

"Thank you."

------

Max has come up with an excuse the last three times Charles had reached out to him, but he really does mean it this time- he's not feeling well.

He's dizzy constantly, thirsty and weak. He has no idea what's wrong with him, and no combination of over the counter medications have been able to get rid of the ache in his gut, settled just behind his stomach.

He feels like shit.

He's been chugging water down, but it's not enough, and everything feels too bright and too dry- he's going insane.

Max had been meaning to wait it out, let it get better naturally, but it's only getting worse now, and he's not even sure what it is- just knows he needs something.

He's half delirious in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It's dry, so dry he feels sick with it, and he needs some kind of solution.

Going down to the harbor when he feels like this is out of the question, so he's stumbling over to the sunken bathtub, cranking the faucet on and letting it fill.

It takes forever.

When it's finally filled to the brim, water splashing over the edges, Max sinks down into it, groaning as he settles.

It's marginally better- he doesn't feel like he's going to crack apart at the edges anymore, body finally starting to relax. It's not helping anything else though, his head still spins, and he still has a desperate ache inside of him, but it's enough for him to lean his head against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering closed.

------

Max wakes up when the water has gone cold, manages to fight through the haze to drain the tub, filling it back up with warm water. He's hungry- has no idea when he last ate- but there's no way he leaves the tub, not when it's the only thing that's helped.

His fingers are shaking when he turns the faucet off, head thunking against the side of the tub again. He knows something is wrong- really wrong- but he's spiraled too far to do anything about it- his phone is in the other room. He has no idea how long he's been in the water.

His eyes drift shut again, and he starts accepting that this is somehow his fate. 'Formula 1 Champion Max Verstappen Found Dead in Bathtub!' isn't quite the end he'd been hoping for.

------

"-ax. Idiot."

There's something....

Max groans, slowly waking up. There's something in his mouth, stretching his lips wide and filling his throat, slick and strong. It's satisfying the thirst that water hadn't, thick and viscous inside of him.

He shifts and realizes there's something between his legs as well, coiling up further and further- he's so full, feels so much better than the ache of before.

His throat is stretched too wide for him to swallow, but he doesn't need to, eyes blinking up to hazily stare at his savior.

Charles is cramped into the bathtub with him, looking equal parts concerned and annoyed.

"Good morning, you stupid, petty brooder."

Max makes a muffled noise. Charles is... Charles is good, he takes care of Max, he'll make it better.

Charles sighs, and then Max is being pressed tight to his chest, sharp teeth scraping his nose as he leans down to kiss him.

"You see how dumb you were being now? You are changing, Max. You have cycles now too, and ignoring them- ignoring me- is only going to hurt you."

Max isn't quite following. He's feeling so much better now- his needs are met, and he kind of wants to get fucked.

Really wants to get fucked.

It must be apparent to Charles, who looks annoyed with him.

"I am not giving you a clutch in your bathtub, Max. We are going back to the cave, and I am going to breed you properly. We're behind schedule now anyways, since you wanted to be so fucking stubborn. You'll still be carrying a week before testing starts."

Sure, whatever Charles wants. Whatever gets Max more of this, feeling better than he has in days.

------

Max is draped across Charles' lap, tentacles working their way across his body. His eyes roll back into his head as the one in his ass pushes further into him, thicker than what he's used to.

He's pretty sure Charles has given him the actual clutch already- he feels full even in the rare moments there aren't tentacles inside of him. That doesn't stop him from moaning around the one in his throat as they squeeze tighter around him, holding him in place.

He vaguely remembers the prior years, but they hadn't been as... intense, as this year. Max has never needed it like this before- he can barely stand to have the tentacles out of him, pressed close to Charles constantly.

Charles has one of his hands pressing on Max's spine, pushing him further down as Max tries to squirm.

"If you had not been ridiculous earlier this would not have been so bad, Max. But no, you wanted to be petty and wait, and it's messed with your head, yes? You need more?"

Max wants more. He wants more bad, trying to push his hips back up into Charles' hand even as the tentacle inside of him swells, pushing inside of him into sweet spots he didn't know he had.

It's still not enough, he wants-

He wants another clutch, body desperately trying to accommodate for it, starting to wiggle in Charles' lap.

Charles makes a low noise, apprehensive.

"Max, if I give you more it's going to be a lot, yes?"

Max doesn't care, just needs to be full, needs to settle the empty ache he's feeling.

"Okay. Hold still for me."

The tentacles around him tighten, holding him down as the one inside of him starts to rhythmically swell and compress, and then Max can feel it-

It's not like with the clutch, where there's a full pressure. It's a hot swell inside of him, heavy and viscous, more liquid than anything. Max finally falls still as it seeps inside of him, weighing him down.

There's a moment where it feels perfect, exactly what he needed, but then it keeps going, pushes into being too much- Max wants to struggle, but it's pushing him down, making him feel like he's made of lead.

Charles coos softly at him even as Max tries to whine against the tentacle in his mouth, because it's starting to hurt.

"There you go, yes, that was a full brooder drop. I did not think you were ready for that yet."

Max doesn't think he was ready either. It's too much inside of him, overwhelming everything else he could possibly feel. Charles' fingers brush over his cheek as the tentacles start withdrawing.

"Good job, Max. Perfect brooder for me, even if you made things difficult for us both."

There's a soft kiss to the side of Max's face.

"You had me very worried, when you wouldn't respond. You need this just as bad as I do now, but you don't remember, so you have to trust me, yes? Even when you are upset."

Max is barely following- gives a raspy noise that hopefully passes for confirmation. Charles nips lightly at him, teeth pricking into his skin.

"You're going to need extra food now- that is a big one."

The tentacles are lifting Max out of Charles' lap, and he groans at the feeling of everything shifting inside of him.

"Shh, it's alright, I'm just putting you back in the water."

Whatever Charles wants. Max is too exhausted to offer any input.

------

Max blinks awake to the sound of splashing, eyes cracking open. Charles must be back with food, although he's usually a bit quieter coming into the cave.

He freezes, breath catching in his throat, heard pounding.

There's someone else looking at him, settling along the rocks across from Max's ledge. It's a complete stranger, large orange tentacles dragging against the stone. They remind Max of an octopus, suckers decorating the underside of them.

He isn't breathing.

The man is leering at him, leaning forward.

"Hello breeder. You're new here, aren't you?"

Max scowls, even as he shrinks back further onto his ledge.

The man just moves closer, tentacles starting to drop into the water, drifting in Max's direction.

Max clenches his jaw, eyes narrowed.

"Get out."

"Oh?"

The man stops moving, eyeing Max.

"Isn't that cute. What exactly are you going to do, brooder? You're barely turning, and everyone knows that's the best stage. You're all so...

There's a tentacle trying to wrap around his ankle, and Max yanks his foot back- but the suckers cling, stretching his leg out in front of him instead.

"...Vulnerable."

Max's breathing picks up. He's in danger, real danger here- someone has come into their cave, and Charles isn't here, and Max is going to-

"You smell wonderful too. Young, well bred-"

Max feels more tentacles starting to slide across him. They're nothing like Charles, none of the smooth slide that he's used to. He's trembling.

"-scared."

He's running out of options- not that he had many to begin with- and Max swallows, curling his lip up in a futile threat.

The man just laughs softly, and then his eyes narrow-

Max is plunged underwater with him, breath leaving his lungs as his eyes fly open. They're going deep, by where the cave entrance is, and Max panics. He's pretty sure the man is an octopus, and he's pretty sure they're somewhat cannibalistic, and he's not fucking dying here.

He doesn't even think about it when he sees the tentacle heading for his neck- just lunges forward, mouth open as water rushes in, before he gets his teeth on the tentacle and bites.

It's hard and rubbery, thrashing in his mouth, but Max digs deeper- something in the taste is lighting up his brain, adding to the anger.

Max is better than him. It doesn't fucking matter that he's somehow ended up with a life where he spends some of his year fucked full with eggs- he's not some kind of cowering incubator.

If this man is stupid enough to come after Max-

He'll kill him.

The tentacle in his mouth flails wildly as Max digs his teeth deeper, and then it snaps, bursting in Max's mouth as he spits it out. He's furious.

A stranger, in their cave, coming after Max, when he has eggs-

The man looks angry, but there's not currently any tentacles on Max- he's withdrawn them all around his body, nursing the bitten one.

The water is bloody around them.

Max lowers his head, still watching him. He's floating in the water, but he looks like a threat now. He doesn't care if he has to go one by one- the man can either leave now, or he can leave in pieces.

He snarls at Max, but his body language isn't aggressive anymore, and he's slinking towards the cave entrance.

Max won't relax until he's gone, but at least he's leaving.

Which is of course when Charles comes in.

It's fast- Max can't really keep track of it, just knows there's a blur of dark blue and bright orange, and then Charles is slamming the man against the rock walls of the cave, biting a chunk out of his throat.

It should make Max sick. There's no possible way the man is alive, not with the way he looks when Charles lets go of him, using a dark blue tentacle to push the body outside.

The only thing Max feels is satisfaction. Charles came back and protected them.

Charles' eyes are wide when he sees Max underwater, and then he's being yanked to the surface, laid out in Charles' lap as worried hands stroke over his face, smooth tentacles gingerly wrapping around him.

"Max, Max can you breathe? How much water did you- Max, baby, please-"

Charles looks two seconds from CPR, and Max lifts a hand to bat at him. He's fine.

He tries to open his mouth to say that, but there's a weird whistling noise when he inhales, and Charles' eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh- Oh, Max! That is amazing, you have-"

Max has fucking gills.

------

Charles brings them both back to the surface.

"You were using them fine when I came in, why can't you use them anymore?"

Max is scowling.

"Because I am not supposed to breathe underwater, Charles. I am a human person- not whatever weird fish shit you have going on."

Charles furrows his brows.

There's still flecks of blood on his face.

"But you are? You are a brooder, Max. Yes, you are turning faster than I thought you would, but you're still turning. Which is what I expected? We talked about this."

What.

"No? No, Charles, we definitely didn't- you said something about the chemicals messing with my memories. There was not any discussion of gills."

Max pauses.

"And I sort of thought when you were calling me a brooder it was-"

He makes a face, because he thinks about bringing it up every year, but by the time he remembers, it's always right before he forgets.

"-it was derogatory or something. Like calling your partner a slut."

Charles raises an eyebrow at him.

"And you were okay with that?"

Max tosses his hands up, frustrated. There's a complicated swell of emotions inside of him, and they're getting harder to suppress, thick behind his throat.

"I was more concerned about the egg thing, Charles!"

Charles is resettling Max where they're floating in the water, tentacles brushing soothingly across his skin. Max blinks rapidly.

"I did not explain it very well, Max. I'm sorry, it is also just that-"

Charles huffs, and his gills flare on the side of his neck. Max had never really noticed them before- Charles takes care to keep them closed above water.

"We only take one brooder in our lifetimes? And you obviously are the first I have had, and I don't exactly- I mean, Lolo has told me some about what his partner went through, but obviously these things are different."

Max blinks, digesting Charles' words. Processes.

His eye twitches.

"You don't know?"

Charles winces.

"Not really."

Max can't tell if he wants to scream or cry, and instead a slightly hysterical laugh bubbles out of his lips.

The tentacle thing- manageable, if Max doesn't think too hard about it.

The egg thing- a little harder to deal with, but Max can compartmentalize.

The gills? His entire body turning into something different, something he has no control over? Something even Charles doesn't understand? He has no idea how to handle that.

"So, what? I'm going to go full fish person? Did you-"

Max cuts himself off, doubling over in laughter, even though it isn't very funny at all.

"Did you turn me into a fucking mermaid, Leclerc?"

"Max-"

Charles sounds concerned, hands trying to settle on Max's waist, but Max twists away. He can't tell if he wants to smash Charles' head against a rock, or his own.

"I mean- what the fuck? Genuinely, what the fuck? How do I even- How am I supposed to handle this, huh? Do you know? Did you think about that before you yanked me off the beach?"

Max is feels like he's going off the rails, hands flying as he speaks, voice getting higher as his eyes get worryingly wet.

"Where, at any point, was I even asked?"

Charles flinches.

Max isn't done.

"Nowhere! Absolutely nowhere! No one ever went 'hey Max, do you want to be a fish person for the rest of your life?' because the answer would have been no!"

His chest is heaving, eyes darting around the cave wildly.

"And now- and now every year, I have these fucking eggs, and they are- they are mine, and we fucking abandon them. I did not want to be a parent, but I refuse to be that kind of parent. I don't care that it's 'nature', Charles, it's not me!"

Charles looks at though Max has stabbed him, hands helplessly reaching for him even as Max shifts away.

"On top of it all, I am turning into a fucking mermaid!"

His words are shaky, and he's trembling. He wants to curl up, to protect the eggs. He doesn't know if that's Max Brain or Fish Brain- is there even a difference?

He wants to cry.

He wants to punch Charles in the face.

Charles is keeping his distance, giving Max the space he's asked for, even though it looks like it's physically paining him.

"Max-"

Max bursts into tears, curling up on his stupid rock ledge, wanting Charles near him, despite the fact that the whole thing is his fault.

There's a brush of a tentacle against him, and when Max doesn't shove him away, Charles cautiously drifts closer, pulling him into his chest.

"I hate you."

The tentacles are wrapping around him, cocooning him in the safety that is Charles.

"I'm sorry, Max."

It doesn't fix anything.

------

Max refuses to try and breathe underwater with Charles around. He's refusing to do much anything with Charles, which is extremely distressing for both him and probably also the eggs.

He feels terrible for the eggs- but he can't bring himself to get over it.

Charles is out hunting again, even though Max is on a self imposed hunger strike since early morning.

He slides carefully off the rock ledge back underwater. It's definitely a mental block- telling himself that it's okay to open his mouth and inhale water isn't going over well with the reasonable side of him.

He grits his teeth and tries anyways.

The first rush of saltwater is the worst, stinging his nose and the back of his throat, and he's expecting to choke, prepared for it-

He takes an even breath.

And then another.

Slowly, he starts to relax, carefully letting go of the rock ledge, where his fingers have had a death grip on the stone.

He kicks his legs, floating in the water as he adjusts. It feels like his regular breathing, just-

Through his neck.

This is fine.

Max tries to push his leg at the side of the wall to push off further into the water, but a shooting pain rips through his hip, and he immediately brings both legs up to his chest, hissing.

He gingerly tries to extend his leg to the side again, but there's a stiffness to his hips- they just won't work with him.

It's not a reason to panic. It's probably just a weird muscle cramp.

A really weird muscle cramp, on both sides.

Or maybe the fucking octopus tentacle he'd bitten off yesterday had a slow acting poison in it and he's dying.

He kind of wants Charles to come back, even if he's mad at him, because his legs aren't working, and he's about to start freaking out.

Max twists his core, scrunching up to push off the wall with both feet backwards, swimming back to the surface until his fingers are gripping his rock ledge again.

He pokes the top of his head out of water, blinking his eyes to adjust back to the dim light of the cave. He's still breathing through the gills, which is not any less weird than it was the first time.

There's a stack of fish near the edge- Charles has been in and out all day, trying to find something enticing enough for Max to break his hunger strike.

Max has been holding out on principle, but Charles still isn't back, so he drifts closer, picking through the pile.

It really is a good haul- fat fish, plenty of protein. Max isn't entirely sure what he's looking for, but he knows what he's not, so he carefully picks through the pile, discarding fish at random.

There's a particularly large trout near the bottom of the pile, and Max inspects it carefully before deciding he wants it.

There's just one problem- his ledge is back to his left, and his legs aren't doing him a whole lot of favors- he needs his hands.

Can't swim with both hands if he's holding a giant trout in one.

His eye twitches. Charles is never finding out about this.

Max sighs heavily, cringing as he lifts the trout, the slick scales against his teeth and tongue, gripping it between his teeth as he pushes back for the ledge, spitting it out onto the rock as soon as he arrives.

Disgusting.

Problem number two-

Charles has always deboned Max's fish. Max has no idea how to do it on his own.

He pokes at the slimy scales for a moment, trying to remember how Charles does it.

Except Charles is some kind of squid person, with freakishly sharp nails and lifetime of experience behind him, and Max has... none of those qualities.

Well.

He's got the gills now, but that isn't exactly helping him.

Does he just...?

Max grips one fin of the trout in one hand, holding the rest of the body with the other.

He gags, and then he rips.

It tears easier than he'd expected, and he's not near as disgusted by the metallic tang of blood as he should be.

He's not really sure where to go from here.

There's exposed meat now, but does he just... rip it out?

Max has not been appreciating Charles' fish filleting skills properly. He really doesn't want to rip chunks out, but-

He's hungry, and he's upset, and there's enough things going wrong in his life- the last thing he needs to do is accidentally fuck up the eggs any worse than he already has.

His eyes dart down to the water again, making sure there's no sign of Charles.

He lifts the fish in his hands, noise wrinkling, and bites.

------

Charles had to fight for his life to get this fucking tuna- if Max doesn't eat it, he's going to lose it.

He's dragging it behind him on the way back to the cave. He would've been more worried about leaving Max undefended, but letting an octopus hybrid corpse float up for scavengers is a pretty clear statement.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected Max to bite a tentacle off- he's both impressed and slightly disturbed.

Brooders- human ones anyways- most often turn into relatively peaceful hybrids. Certainly not the kind of hybrids willing to sink their teeth into an octopus.

Then again-

This is Max.

Charles feels his stomach roll with worry as he gets closer to the cave. Max has been furious since the discussion about the turning, and Charles...

He can't blame him. Max has valid points, a genuine reason to be angry. At the same time- his brooder has eggs, and the stress is bad enough- getting into a fight and going on a self imposed hunger strike isn't going to help anyone.

If Max doesn't like the tuna, Charles is going to have to settle him down and force feed him. Also something he doesn't want to do.

This whole breeding season has been a mess- Charles upset Max during the racing season, and then had to break into Max's flat, only to find his brooder a heatsick disoriented mess in the bathtub, and now Max is mad again.

His nose twitches as he swims through the entrance- there's a faint tang of blood in the water. Not Max's, thankfully. Charles focuses, dimming his bioluminescence and sinking to the bottom of the floor, carefully looking around.

There's a few fish bones that have sunken down to the sand- fresh ones. He gingerly lifts one, turning it over in his hands. It's decently large, tiny little nicks and chips in it.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say it looks like the feeding marks from a predator species- sharks and eels, the kind of hybrid species that Charles keeps his fair distance from.

They're not particularly opposed to hunting other hybrids, and Charles is strong- but he's not at their level.

He's grateful that the Mediterranean is warmer waters- they don't have to deal with some of the larger species, or the worst case scenario- orcas.

Still.

He lets the bone drop back into the sand, carefully swimming up to the surface. Ideally, Max would be more comfortable using his gills, and Charles could bring him to their actual nesting site, but his stubborn brooder refuses to try again.

Except-

Max is curled into a tight ball on his ledge, completely submerged. He's also deeply asleep, gills flaring softly with each exhale.

Charles is quiet as he brings the tuna over to the pile that's started to amass on the edge of the pool, but he's pleasantly surprised to find it in disarray.

Max has been in here, and Charles' trout he'd brought back a few hours ago- an impressive catch- is missing. He sets the tuna on the pile, eyes flicking over to the dry stone near Max's ledge.

There's a small pile of bones, and a splattered bloodstain.

Huh.

Charles... didn't think Max would have been willing to do that. He's been deboning all the fish for him, slicing them into little bite sized chunks for his brooder.

But now- it looks like Max had just torn into it.

So much for a hunger strike.

He drifts closer, brushing one hand against the side of Max's face. He has his legs curled up tight to him, although he's grimacing, even in his sleep.

Lolo had said his brooder went through the actual changes rapidly, once they started- a painful few days before she'd finally settled, coherent and also a beautiful flying fish hybrid.

Charles had been slightly jealous of the extravagant fins.

Max must be starting his physical change now, which means Charles can get them both to the real den, further underwater but closer to Monaco.

Now that Max is breathing through his gills, Charles thinks it's time- and he's been carefully working on their space, getting it ready for Max. It's larger than their current one, and it's more secure, solidly within old family territory.

There's a separate brooding space for Max, interconnected by tunnel inside the den, artfully arranged to be as ideal as possible. There's a sunken basin for fish storage, soft kelp weavings across the room, and the space itself is all smooth rock.

There's optional lighting, delicately brought in from above ground, but Charles has found that Max prefers being in the dark while he's being bred.

The rest of the den system is cozy- a sleeping space with a deep layer of sand for sleeping, and a coral structure to wrap around and rest on.

Charles will make more edits to it as he and Max settle, but as far as starter dens- it's acceptable. Max can nest in the brooders den while he turns.

He's a bit worried about this seasons eggs. Turning is going to take everything out of Max, and the stress that's been present throughout the entire ordeal can't possibly have helped. There's a chance Max has reabsorbed any possible nutrients for his own survival.

He carefully lifts Max in his arms, and uses a few stray tentacles to grab the rest of the fish.

Max shifts, face scrunching as he turns closer into Charles' chest. He's starting to produce the viscous gel over his legs and hips- so he's not a tentacle hybrid.

Charles is fairly confident that the gel will start to solidify into the structure of Max's tail, and when he starts to see scale growth is when he'll know Max is almost done.

His brooder is... probably going to want to kill him.

Charles definitely hadn't discussed the tail thing with him, but- he hadn't expected it to start with Max only three years in.

He's deliberately ignoring the glaringly obvious problem of racing. He and Max will figure it out when they get there.

------

Max feels terrible when he wakes up. His entire body aches, and everything is blurry when he blinks, like he's looking underwater.

He realizes a moment later that it's because he is.

He's completely submerged in a new cave, resting on the sand underneath him in a curved basin. There's tentacles draped across him, and Charles looks like he's also asleep a few feet away, half buried into the sand.

Max slowly stretches, arms in front of him as he pops his head above water, but when he goes to move his legs, they don't respond the way he's expects them to.

His head snaps down to look, but his entire lower half is covered in tentacles.

Max reaches to try and push at them, see what's going on, but the movement wakes up Charles, who looks almost-

Scared.

"Max, you're awake."

Max narrows his eyes. Trying to sit up feels weird too, and the tentacles just tighten further around his legs, making it impossible to see.

"Where the hell are we?"

Charles is fidgeting with his fingers, a nervous habit from when they were younger.

"We are in the actual den, now that you can breathe underwater. It's safer, and it is closer to Monte-Carlo also."

Max likes the sound of being closer to his actual flat, back at home, but he's got an equally pressing concern, and there's a bad feeling rising in his gut, twisting and turning inside of him.

"What are you not telling me, Charles?"

Charles winces, tentacles squeezing around Max.

"Remember our conversation about the turning thing?"

Max's heart drops to his stomach.

"No."

"Max-"

"No-"

He yanks away from Charles- his legs won't work with him, abdomen twisting weirdly as he turns, and when he's finally pulled away, hissing at Charles-

His legs are gone.

It's just- it doesn't even feel real. It can't possibly be real, the way Max transitions from smooth human skin to a rough, sandpapery texture.

The tail goes further than his feet had, and it's the same color as his skin, but there's an assortment of dark brown speckles and dots, extending from his ribs all the way down the tail.

There's a few fins, but they're not the frilly kind- they're rigid, clearly defined triangular shapes.

It's a prank. It has to be- some kind of prank, or a nightmare, or an awful drug trip.

It moves when Max moves.

The noise that comes out of him is strangled, high pitched and distressed, because he's-

His head whips back around at Charles.

"Fix it."

Charles winces again, shrinking back from him.

"I can't, Max, you have to learn to shed it normally-"

"Fix it!"

Max cannot be a fish person. Not only does he not want to be a fish person, he doesn't have the time for it, and it's not like he can drive when he has no legs.

Charles at least looks mournful and apologetic, for all the good it's doing him, carefully keeping his distance.

"Max..."

Max is a fish.

Max can't drive.

Max has a tail, because three years ago Charles decided to snatch him off a beach, fuck him full of eggs, and then kept doing it.

He's worryingly close to another breakdown, and he's already cried into Charles' arms about the whole thing, which leaves him with the other emotional extreme- and he's more partial to this one anyways.

"Leclerc."

Charles twitches.

"Max."

Max locks eyes with him, tries to make it as clear as possible that in this moment, he really does mean it-

"I am going to kill you."

Charles' eyes widen, and then he's bolting out of the space, a dark blue blur. Max doesn't waste any time, launching after him.

The tail feels like an extension of him, and he hits a few corners at first, scraping his skin on stone and coral in the unfamiliar cave system, but Charles is getting away, so he keeps going.

Once they're out of the cave in open water things get easier- Max moves fast with the tail, feels the adrenaline rush that he's always craving, eyes searching for where Charles has hidden himself.

There's a large kelp forest nearby, and Max feels a grin stretch across his lips.

Charles is in there somewhere.

He leisurely lounges around the edges of it, watching sharply for any movement. There's so many smells- but he's pinpointing on a specific one, a combination of Charles and something else that makes his mouth water.

It reminds him of their octopus intruder, the way the tentacle had burst in his mouth, chewy flesh under his teeth.

He takes another inhale, drifting down closer to the seafloor. He doesn't know much about squids, but he's pretty sure they like to hide in the sand.

There's a few moments where he doesn't see anything, and then he locks eyes with a familiar green shade, staring right back at him.

Charles' pupils are huge, fearful and wide as he looks at Max.

It's not terribly dissimilar to how Max had felt when he was first yanked off the beach, terrified and feeling distinctly like prey.

He winks at Charles, before swimming a few feet back.

He's not actually going to take a bite out of Charles- even if the idea makes his mouth water, his brain is also screaming at him not to do it. Seeing the look in Charles' eyes when he'd realized Max had seen him- that's satisfying enough on its own.

He opens his mouth, intending to speak, but all that comes out is a low warble. Charles carefully unearths from under the sand, but he moves painstakingly slow to the edge of the kelp forest, ready to bolt again at any moment.

Max rolls his eyes, following his nose to backtrack the scents back into the cave system they'd come out of. He wants to talk to Charles about this.

It's a good thing the tail feels like second nature, because if Max was dead in the water on top of everything else, he might've genuinely taken a chunk out of Charles.

He makes his way back into the first cave he'd woken up in, settling with his head above water.

It takes a few more minutes for Charles to slink in, staying tight to the walls as he eyes Max.

Max sighs.

"I think I am weaker now than I was before, I'm not sure what has you so freaked out."

Charles makes a weird squeaking noise, still watching Max intently, practically pasted against the opposite wall.

"You are- uh, you are a shark, Max."

Huh.

Max looks back down at the tail- not his tail, but the tail-

Nope. Still not real.

He furrows his eyebrows, head jerking back up to meet Charles' eyes as he remembers.

"Charles, the egg-"

Charles winces, worrying at his fingers.

"You absorbed it."

"I what?"

Max's voice goes high and hysterical, one hand pressing to the flat of his stomach.

"You needed the extra nutrients and support, and the turning process is much longer than the actual turn, so really,"

Charles is looking apologetically at him.

"They most likely did not even fertilize."

Max's head is spinning. He has a tail. He doesn't have eggs. He doesn't-

"I'm not doing this."

Charles tilts his head to side.

"I'm not sure...?"

Max throws his arms out, tail splashing unhappily.

"This, the fucking- the fish thing, the egg thing, everything. I want to go back."

"Max, you can't."

The words trip in Max's brain, rattle over everything else because he hates it and it's true.

His entire life has been people dictating what he can and can't do, and now that's extended to his body, his entire being-

He launches forward at Charles. He isn't sure what he wants, just knows he's upset and angry and it's Charles' fault.

"Shit-"

Charles is wrestling him below the water, and Max is snapping at him, gulping in mouthfuls of water as he thrashes.

There are tentacles sliding around him, and he swears he sees Charles mouth sorry at him before Max is being yanked into place, teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, deeper than Charles has ever bitten before.

He shouts, air bubbles moving towards the surface as the water tints red around them, blood- Max's blood- starting to surround them.

The tentacles around him are squeezing and sliding, and Max hates how it has him relaxing in their grip, hips twitching.

Having sex is not going to make him any less angry, even as he feels Charles lapping at the bite mark he's left behind, and a small tentacle is curling around Max's neck.

Something presses between Max's legs, a weird sensation with the tail, sending lightning bolts of pleasure through him- it feels like Charles is pressing on his prostate, but there's not even anything inside of him.

He jerks in the tentacles grip, eyes rolling back in his head as Charles does it again, and again, and then there's a tentacle sliding inside of him, and Max is moaning, spasming as it pushes deeper.

It's nothing like getting fucked- everything is so much, and he's already losing himself to it, tentacles coiled around his skin as Charles fucks a tentacle smoothly into him.

Max- he's upset, it isn't fair that this is working. Charles makes it hard to stay mad at him, sealing his mouth over the pinpricks in Max's skin, tentacles tight around him.

Max's mouth drops open, head dropping limply as Charles presses further into him, and he feels cored open with it, rearranged in the truest sense of the word.

He almost doesn't recognize the swelling sensation at first, but he definitely feels the pressure inside of him, and he fights back, teeth snapping in Charles' direction.

He doesn't want another clutch, that's not how they solve problems-

It's not until he starts trying to utilize his legs- or his tail, whatever it is now- that he realizes Charles is struggling, tentacles slipping against the rough skin of Max's lower body.

Max lunges forward again, eyes narrowed, but he's unfamiliar with the water, with the tail, and there's still tentacles inside of him, coiling up tight, and he gasps, lightning shock through his system at the abrupt fullness.

Charles takes advantage of his distraction, tentacles tightening enough to hurt, twisting forward and pressing him against the wall- Max freezes as he feels sharp teeth rest gently across the front of his throat.

He's completely still, some animalistic part of him realizing Charles is perfectly poised to rip his throat out. They're both tense, neither of them moving, before Max feels the tentacle inside of him uncoil, and he moans- the undoing is almost as bad, the sudden change in him.

He still doesn't dare move, even as he feels the pressure build up again, but- it's harder for Max to find the anger now. Charles won, so he's in charge. Max knows that's not how it's supposed to work, but he can't find his righteous anger about it, eyes rolling back as he twitches in the tentacles grip, fingers uselessly clenching into his palms as Charles deposits the clutch.

Again.

#ficlet #gonna tag this even though there's no prompt and it's not february OR october #kink prompt #tentacles #yup they're back #sea creature charles #sharkstappen #tfw u accidentally turn your unintentional husband into your natural predator #whoops

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luimagines · 1 year ago

Note

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

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idorukiss · 6 months ago

Text

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Rafayel would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too!

1,051 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Sylus

There have been many different things in Rafayel's life that inspired him when it comes to his art, But nothing took control of his heart so intensely as much as you have. Like a whirlpool you shook him to his core from that first meeting, and all he wants to do is capture you on his canvas for eternity.

It really was quite the blessing with how willing you were to become his bodyguard- not only can he keep you within arms reach but you can also protect him from all the shady people after his life. Like killing 2 birds with one stone, except you were so much stronger and beautiful than any stone he’s ever set eyes on before

He absolutely felt like a flirt to you at the start with all of the compliments and casual physical touch between you guys, He just loved to say how amazing you are while enclosing you in a deep bear hug. It was strange at first you'd admit, but it never felt like he was trying to make any passes at you or act like he was expecting anything in return. Perhaps that's just how he acts with people he trusts?

When Rafayel isnt painting, you two spend a lot of time outside finding inspiration all around. He usually has a sketchbook with him scribbling away anytime he sees something interesting- the landscapes, pretty flowers, or even a parfait you guys got to share. You’ve seen some of these sketches as he works on them, it always amazes you how much detail he can capture with so few lines.

He never let you fully flip through the sketchbook however, claiming all sorts of reasons why, like that the drawings were scared of the sunlight or you had to go through many trials to be worthy. It was obvious how much he cherished it and you respected his wishes, though it would be nice to reminisce on some of the good times you guys had together again. Though its not like your phone wasn't filled to the brim with photos already

Late one night, you stop by his place to make sure he didn't need any motivation to finish a painting for a deadline set the next morning. You have confidence he could make it in time, he always did, but you want to help him as best as you can otherwise. When you arrive you spot a stunning completed painting and a Rafayel sleeping on the sofa below it- both stunning as they're illuminated by the moonlight.

Taking it upon yourself to clean up his supplies a little, just enough to not be a walking hazard of course, you spot his precious travel sketchbook on the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind if you took a little peak in it, you'd love to see how he finished the last landscape you guys saw before he locked himself up to work. As you flip through the pages you see so many familiar sights from your time together so far, but scattered around them filling maybe even more pages was many drawings of a person. Of you. All surrounded by hearts and little notes about things you've said.

When did he have a chance to draw all of these? Is this how you look to him?? Questions race your mind as your face flushes at the image of him intensely scribbling in the sketchbook as you dance around the beach being dumb. You decide to grab a pencil and add your attempt of a sketch of him in the back, signing it with a little heart of your own. It’s nowhere near his skill level but something that captures how you feel, and maybe he would get a chuckle out of it once he spots it.

You don’t realize when the casual acts of affection he started out with turn slightly more romantic- going from linking arms together to holding your hand, and you swear you feel him press little kisses on the top of your head every time he wraps his arms around you. But you don't hate it, in fact it makes your heart flutter every time you realize it

Rafayel often messages you at the most random times to meet him somewhere, usually it was because he found a stunning view and wanted to share the experience with you. Sometimes he would even show up at your apartment to whisk you away, and every time it filled you with joy. These dates and every moment you get to spend with him fill your heart with so much warmth.

One particularly warm night you were woken up by a call inviting you to the beach near his studio. It was worth crawling out of the bed at an ungodly hour, not only for the view but for him. While you were admiring the waves, he couldn't keep his eyes off you as a cautious pinky is hooked around yours. Two faces flush as you look at him, it lasts for only a moment before its interrupted by your watch.

Your face falls as you read the notification “It looks like I got a last minute mission in the morning…I guess this means I have to head back already.” As you take a heavy step to start walking away he reaches out to stop you with a pleading look on his face “Wait, don’t go yet” “Rafayel…. I’m sorry, I really am. This night- everything was wonderful, it really was” “Can’t you just stay the night?” He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck “Please just stay the night, I don’t want you to leave.” Your heart flutters as you wrap your arms around him in return “Okay, I’ll stay for you my sweet painter”

He is the most clingy man you’ve ever met, constantly torn between wrapping himself around you while peppering every inch of skin with kisses and diving headfirst into hundreds of paintings with you as his muse. His studio would be covered in nothing but paintings of you if he didn't have to focus on his commissions.

He sculpted out a place in your heart that held him, and in turn you've devoted yourself to him- loving him with every fiber of your being

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds #rafayel lads #irodruwrite #just sylus next before i can move onto the next lil series of drabbles teehee #budding relationships

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akaakeis · 8 months ago

Text

room for you -- oikawa t.

synopsis :: you and tooru oikawa have a history. you're known each other for over a decade. as he outgrew sendai, you got left behind while he took leaps and bounds forward, moving to argentina. when you're already a university student, the two of you end up getting back in touch.

wc :: 1936.ᐟ

gn!reader x oikawa tooru (2nd person)

notes//cw :: named after and inspired by 'room for you' by grentperez + lyn lapid,, im so projecting onto the reader like they are literally me,, fic follows you from elementary -> junior high -> high school -> university (just in little snippets, nothing too long!!),, the school system in this is some kind of japanese school system mixed with the american school system,, kinda hurt/comfort(?) im not even sure if this qualifies actually,, fluffy end <3

a playground. it's filled to the brim with little kids, hanging from the monkey bars and sliding headfirst down the slide. yet here you are, sitting on the sidelines, cross-legged on the sidewalk as you twirl a piece of sidewalk chalk in your little hands. you're alone- till you're not. the sound of quick, loud steps, followed by a final huff, draws you out of your distracted state. the smallest gust of wind blows your hair away from your face as someone drops to the ground to sit next to you.

"heya, i'm tooru. why're you all alone? whatcha doing?" his eyes dart all over your face excitedly. it doesn't seem like he minds the fact that you didn't answer his questions. he finally glances down at the sidewalk below him and is absolutely fascinated with your chalk drawings. he looks at both you and your drawings with childlike wonder. you can't help but wonder why he came up to you, but you're glad that he did.

that was 14 years ago.

a full cafeteria sits in front of you, tables shoved full with kids. it's loud and overstimulating to be there, especially when you have nowhere to be sitting. junior high students rowdily chatter as they mow through their lunches and head outside to play. it's almost as if you're watching a movie play out in front of you as people keep moving about the cafeteria- until you hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your daze.

"hey!! over here!" tooru calls out, waving you over to his lunch table. he has a wide grin on his face as he beckons you over. when you get over to the table, he casually slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you to sit down at the table with him and his friends. maybe junior high wasn't going to be so bad, after all. now you had a friend group, no?

"you fit right in!" tooru comments, nudging you as he laughs. truth be told, it's relieving to hear him say that. you could get used to this.

that was 7 years ago.

aoba johsai's gym. tooru's first high school volleyball match is going on right in front of you. it's amazing, the way that his serves spin across the net with such force. he plays with such agility and honed skill, and it leaves you in awe. the game wraps up quickly- practically in the blink of an eye. when he runs off of the court, you're the first person he comes up to. he jogs to you happily, beaming with excitement.

"how'd i do? did you see all my serves??" he asks, looking at you expectantly. he's very proud of how the game went.

"you did great!" you reply back, just as excited as he is.

after the gym is cleaned up, you accompany the team to a nearby restaurant for a celebratory dinner. it's a walk, with the silence being filled by tooru and hajime's endless banter. this is comfortable. everything feels right, in this moment. as you walk in silence, listening in on hajime and oikawa's latest disagreement, you can't help but reflect on what you saw at the game. tooru was already playing so well. was it wrong to feel like you were getting left behind? to fear that he would leave you behind sooner or later?

that was 5 years ago.

seijoh's auditorium. it's now filled with rows of students, ranging from 1st to 3rd years. it's your- it's all of the 3rd years' ending credits. it's all happening too fast. as you hear your name called out, it echos and rings through the auditorium. you automatically fall out of the line of students, and you receive your diploma, bowing to the principal and thanking him. then, you quickly head back to your spot in line. this was really it. it was weird, but it didn't make you feel any certain way. that was, until you heard the principal call out another name.

"oikawa tooru." you pause. all of a sudden, your heart ached. it was truly sinking in, how momentous of an occasion this was, whether it was for better or for worse. as tooru made his way to the front of the auditorium, you found your eyes gravitated to him as he walked. he glanced towards you and flashed a brief smile. he walked up to the principal, receiving his diploma with a bow and a "thank you." this was actually happening. it wasn't something incomprehensible that you would always be working towards. you had truly completed high school, and that was it. you could feel your heart twisting in your chest as he walked back to his spot in line, waving his diploma at you for a moment and grinning. you muster a smile back to him.

you get a bad feeling about this. what if this is it? what if you never see each other again after this? of course, tooru isn't some mindreader, though. he has no idea you're feeling that way- he's completely clueless. you're probably just getting into your head about it, though. of course you guys would see one another, again. after all, the two of you had plans to go to the same university, anyway.

that was 3 years ago.

a phone is being held in front of your face. argentina national team, it says on the screen. is this some kind of joke? what about all the plans you had made with him? he's definitely joking... but his face betrays that idea. he looks dead serious about this, but at the sane time, he looks so excited. that means you have to be happy for them, no matter how much you feel like going home to process the grief you're now going through.

"oh, wow..." you manage to choke out. "argentina." where even is that? it's sure as hell not close.

"yeah!" he says excitedly. "isn't that cool?" it's like he's forgotten about all the plans the two of you had made. how disappointing.

you nod slightly, mustering up a happy reply. it sounds forced. "yeah, it's super cool! when are you leaving, then?"

"umm... in a week! and we can stay in touch for sure! i'll message you as soon as i land, and then we can call at night!" he says, shutting off his phone and pocketing it as he looks at you, his ever-excited face still apparent. you need to match his energy- you wouldn't want to ruin the excitement of this moment for him, of course.

"totally!" you reply, smiling back at him. you're excited for him, but admittedly, you felt a little worried over being left behind. what would happen from here?

that was 1 year ago.

after tooru left for argentina, he stayed true to his promise. he texted you once he landed, and he called you every night- for a while at least. then the calls started coming less...

and less...

till they altogether stopped.

it only took 2 months for the calls to stop coming. not to mention, when you'd try to call, he'd answer, but he would only say he's busy and would talk to you later. you would be lying if you said you didn't get what could have caused it, though. for one thing, he's now committed to a national level volleyball team. the two of you are also 12 hours apart, time wise. it really does make sense why the calls stopped, but you just can't wrap your head around it. the two of you have been friends since 1st grade, so how could your relationship be falling apart so easily?

you missed him- you missed talking to him, too.

that was 10 months ago.

now, you sit in your university dorm, watching the computer screen in front of you as it plays a live volleyball game: argentina vs. japan. there were a couple familiar faces- amongst them, of course, being tooru. it felt weird, seeing him like this. it was like you had never known each other, seeing the game from here.

you wonder how he is. he was so enamored with the idea of being a part of a national team. he truly put in an effort to become as good as he is now. you miss him. you resent him for leaving you behind. hopefully, he's okay, though. you still care about him.

the volleyball game comes to a close after long struggle, with japan coming out on top. hours pass as you sit in your dorm room, wasting time with multiple activities. the day feels so slow.

bzzt—

your phone rings, but quickly stops. you pick up your phone and check where the call was from. it was from tooru, and it was followed by a text that read, "oops sorry." you text back a "you're fine dw" and then put down your phone with a sigh, only for your phone to buzz again. tooru texts you again, asking how you are.

soon enough, a conversation starts as the two of you continue to text back and forth. tooru calls you, explaining, "i figured if we were gonna continue talking... we should just call, right?" he pauses for a moment. "ah- and i'm sorry.. for not talking to you for a while. i don't have any excuse... i just stopped."

your heart twists in your chest. "...it's fine, don't worry. i get it. you're busy." you reply, picking at the sides of your phone case. it hurt to know he didn't even have a reason to stop talking to you,

"no... seriously. i'm sorry." tooru continues, "it won't happen again. i've missed you a lot."

"i missed you too," you reply simply. "i just wish you were still here, y'know? ...i saw your game against japan. you guys did really good. your serves have improved since high school, tooru," you add, feeling slightly better.

"yeah, i've been missing sendai, seriously." he sighs. "and why the hell did you not tell me they tore down the old house?" he groans. "our precious meet up spot..."

you laugh softly. "i figured it would only make you upset. but hey, we can make a new meet up spot. that old house was so school days," you reply, a joking lilt in your voice.

"yeah, you're right," he replies, laughing. "sorry, i won't have time to meet up this time, though. i'll make time next time i'm here visiting, promise."

you smile slightly, still picking at the sides of your phone case. "alright, that sounds good."

"and... hey," he says, his voice softer.

"hm?"

"you know i'll always make time for you, right? there's always room for you," he says, your name following. it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. you've always adored the way he says your name. it felt comforting.

his words make you freeze up for a moment as you process what he just told you. "...thanks, tooru. i hope you know i will too. there's always room for you," you echo, a smile gracing your features as you realize- maybe your relationship didn't fall apart at all. after all, the relationships that have stood the test of time are usually the strongest, no? distance is just another obstacle for the two of you to overcome together.

while you two may not be fortunate enough to live near one another, neither of you will let physical distance be the reason your relationship fails. the two of you will always have room for each other inside of your hearts.

notes ::

₊ ⊹ guys im gonna be honest w u i heavily fw this fic

₊ ⊹ i hope u guys feel the same way <3

₊ ⊹ I WAS SO CLOSE TO 2K WORDS ON THIS DAMN IT

₊ ⊹ i feel like i get all my fic plot ideas from music i listen to... pls forgive me for that i can't help it

₊ ⊹ idk what this fic genre would be classified as? but i really enjoyed writing it

₊ ⊹ i was on a plane when i wrote this i was SO locked in

₊ ⊹ i also wrote some of this in a car and i got so sick... that was not demure!!!

₊ ⊹ oh and not proofread are we surprised! let me know if u find any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes PLEASE

₊ ⊹ i'm so tired it's like 3 something itm in my timezone... if u see formatting issues thats why probably??? idk my vision is blurry rn

₊ ⊹ any other works can be found on my masterlist!

🏷️ (sorry for the random tags.. i just really really like this one </3) :: @bokukos ,, @iiwaijime ,, @hatsukeii ,, @causenessus ,, @kuroppiii <3

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #dividers by @/plutism #GOOD NIGHT #I CANT SEE STRAIGHT OMF #omori's sketchbook.

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arcadia-of-pluto · 7 months ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Twenty-One

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 3,309

Themes; isekai, slow-burn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and mature themes

Notes; I would apologize for taking so long (both for this update and for Foreseer going on too long–), but I'm tired of doing that so just buckle up because Foreseer Zayne is still on-going! I haven't really felt like writing or doing anything lately, so I'm still only on chapter 23 so the chapters might be a bit slower to drop. I'm doing all I can, but I only feel like writing when I feel like it so– I'll get back to it soon!

As much as I love writing for LADS, I have so many original story ideas and if I ever start writing them, I'd love to post them here. I'm just not sure how well original content would go on Tumblr tbh? I'm sure yall will grow tired of isekai content, but I have so many original ideas for stuff like that. Like seriously– I could count at least five in my Google docs! But I also have a few non-isekai ideas, like a possible miraculous ladybug type idea (with superheros and the hidden identity trope), a game of thrones type of story with my own set of gods and goddesses (I came up with it in the 11th grade and I'm desperate for people to know about it, it makes me so mf happy)...I could go on and on about it tbh but I'll just say more about it after the chapter is done since I don't want to clog this section up too much! <3

Enjoy this chapter of ToF!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

Under your care, the jasmine bud grows bigger and bigger by the day. You’re happy, but also a bit nervous. According to your expertise, the jasmine will bloom in less than a week…That means you don’t have much time. You’ve also learned that, other than reading and checking on the jasmine, the Foreseer stays at a location hidden behind an ordinary door in the basement.

What does he do in there? Is the Creatio protocore’s location perhaps…

When the Foreseer disappears behind the door again, you pretend to lose your way and follow after him. What greets you is unbelievable, a sight to behold. Behind that door is a library, the ceiling nowhere to be found. Bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see.

“Huh…Does the Foreseer obtain his books from here? How can he find anything in this place? I don’t even know where he is…” Your mumbles activate some sort of switch, ice materializes beneath your feet and carries you into the air. “Wha–” You’re in disbelief. “...I guess the mystery of how he acquires his books has been solved.”

You feel as if you are lost in a sea of books, for shelf after shelf is filled to the brim with them. The ice stops in front of a bookshelf. You’re a good distance off the ground. “Where is he…” You mutter to yourself, struggling against the ice that held you in place. You sigh and decide to make the most of your time, reaching out to carefully grab the book that’s right in front of you.

Its title is Philos: Floral Inquiry.

Philos? Was every single male lead from Philos?

You open the book and see the pages about jasmines have been read the most. “Jasmines again…Why is this flower important to him? Is it just because he wants the one atop the Tower to bloom?” Reading the notes, you try to piece together an answer.

When you turn to the title page, there is a single word on it: Zayne.

“Zayne…? Who is this Zayne?”

While this version of you would clearly be confused, you were not. You were more shocked that he had the same name in this life as well.

You’re not sure what you expected, but you assumed he’d be called the Foreseer until the end of your dream…

“He is the person you seek.”

In your surprise, you fumble with the book in your hands and turn around. On a platform of ice, the Foreseer stands behind you. His steadfast gaze sends a chill down your spine.

“I had no intention of intruding, Foreseer. The ice clearly kidnapped me–”

“Are you claiming the frost coerced you?” He raises an eyebrow and you take a step back, forgetting that you’re standing on a sheet of ice. Your foot touches nothing.

“W-Woah! Help!” You windmill your arms in the air to stop yourself from falling, but it doesn’t help much. In a moment, you go from descending to being caught in the air.

“Expressing your regret does not require theatrics.”

“...Are you mocking me? I find that hard to believe.” You look up at him with a frown and his eyes, their depths seemingly immeasurable, are close to your face.

The Foreseer carries you to the ground with your heart pounding in your chest.

Was it hot in this room?

Yeah…That’s the reasoning behind your reddened cheeks.

You come to your senses and quickly lower your head. “You…can let me go now. It was good that you were present. It must be dangerous to acquire your books like this.”

“Likewise, ‘tis dangerous to push one’s duty onto others.” He still hadn’t put you down yet.

“Others..?” An ice cluster appears in front of you and slowly spins. “The ice at my feet…Is this its original form? Are you its creator?”

“‘Twas not the work of magic, but a phantasm.” The Foreseer taps the ice cluster. “Carrying her to the higher shelves without a reason was your doing. Am I wrong?”

He’s…talking to the ice?

It unfurls and blooms like jasmine, ice particles ripping around you both.

“Does it understand our language?” You ask, once he finally sets you down.

“We are like-minded in our distaste for lies.”

Well…that doesn’t answer your question.

Though part of you is still in disbelief, the Foreseer’s spells and this library’s very existence are starting to convince you that what you’ve experienced is real.

“My apologies…I snuck in because I wanted to know what you did here. The ice heard me talking to myself, so it flew me up there.” You look down and the phantasmal jasmine runs circles around you before leaping into your hand.

“...Your forgiveness is boundless, for better or worse.”

“So…it accepts my apology?” Ice gathers under you again, and it lifts you into the air. You stumble, about to fall again.

Yet another piece of ice appears beneath your foot, steadying you. Curious, you take another step. Regardless of the direction you take, ice forms beneath you. You walk around, excitement in every step.

It’s…so fascinating.

It’s like having a platform at your command.

“Incredible! It knows what I’m about to do.” You clap your hands together with a gleeful smile.

“The individual subconscious is also a form of energy. It can sense even the smallest of changes.” The Foreseer is still as curt as ever.

“Oh!” You look down at him as you smile. “May I name it Jas? It was reminiscent of jasmine when it unfurled.”

“You and the phantasm should decide. I am but a witness.” You stop before the Foreseer. With your icy platform, you can look him straight in the eye.

“Then may I…call you Zayne?”

With a piercing gaze, he stares at you and you stumble over your words. “A…name defines a person. ‘Tis important, I would think.”

You are unable to read his expression.

“Do what you must.”

You mutter his name under your breath a few times in front of the mirror in your dimly lit room. All your mind can focus on is him in the library, watching you scurry about.

“I encroached on his territory by sneaking into the library…Why didn’t he lash out? Does he perhaps trust me now?” The icy marks on your chest are reflected in the mirror, tendrils spreading and twisting, approaching your collarbone.

Your time is nearing its end. At this time, an idea presents itself.

Since Jas took you to the Foreseer in the library, could you also use it to obtain the Creatio protocore?

“Jas…Are you here?” You call out to it. The sound of swirling ice reverberates in the air. The cluster of ice manifests and makes an arc in the air to greet you.

“You’re here!” You smile at it before clearing your throat, “Jas, I…I have a request. Could you take me to the Foreseer’s scepter?”

The phantasm stops moving. By Astra’s eyes…Does Jas know of your true purpose?

“I wish to–”

Before you can fully explain yourself, Jas expands and lunges at you.

…Are you destined to perish in the cold?

Before you could utter a scream, you realize the crystals phased through your body. There is only darkness. The faint sound of running water catches your attention.

Where…are you?

A distance away, you can make out an indigo spark. That’s…surely the Creatio protocore.

So Jas really did listen to you! As the light is within your reach, you take note of your surroundings.

Oh…

Steam escapes from behind a dark-coloured curtain. Moonlight shines through the window, landing on Zayne’s shoulders and revealing the drops of water running along his back.

Oh my…Wait, why were you brought to his bedchamber? Shit, you’ve got to get out of there before he notices.

You hold your breath and take one step back…Your foot bumps into something and makes a barely audible noise, but Zayne turns around and your gazes meet.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you! But I swear on my name that Jas brought me here..”

Maybe the turmoil in your mind is playing tricks on you, but Zayne is unperturbed. With the slight curl of his finger, the steam around us turns into a white cloth that hangs around his waist.

And with another wave of his hand, an unseen force pulls you in his direction. You stand before him, doing your best to look him in the eyes.

“What brings you here?” His hair, his face, his chest– all wet from the water– You are unable to avert your gaze, and you feel a rising heat on your face.

But what is more astounding is the number of scars etched on Zayne’s body.

“I thought the jasmine was about to bloom…I was unaware you were bathing!” Having coughed up a pitiful excuse, you close your eyes in embarrassment. You sense the invisible force is gone and when you open your eyes, Zayne is putting on his robes.

“No one could have predicted Jas to be unwavering in its loyalty to you. However, I expected as much. It knows only of us, thus it considers you a friend.”

Aww...That’s really sweet!

Wait—

“Are you going to punish Jas? It only indulged in my whimsy…”

“Should I punish you instead?” Zayne’s unwavering gaze meets your eyes.

“If the jasmine meets something terrible as I sit in an icy prison for three days and three nights…”

“Worry not, punishment awaits.”

Huh?

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “What do you mean? Are you going to kill me after the jasmine blooms?”

“...Is a horrible death the only consequence you can think of? I have no interest in taking the life of another.”

“Is it for this reason you will let me leave?” Your head tilts to the side and Zayne turns his head to look away from you. “You should decide that for yourself.” With a wave of his hand, you are pushed out of his bedchamber by an unseen force.

After another few days of deliberating on what to do next, you take a few notes. Zayne will catch you if you are anywhere near the Creatio protocore…and the more you learn about Zayne, the greater the mystery enshrouding him.

Those scars etched into his flesh. It seems like…he was stabbed in the past. Yet no one else lives in this Tower.

How could he have been wounded? He is also blessed by Astra. Who could be powerful enough to injure him?

But…more importantly, why would Astra allow His follower to become injured?

Your curiosity extends beyond your current relationship. In other words…You will never be given an answer.

The very next day, you visit the library at midnight. Jas takes you to the same shelf that has Philos: Floral Inquiry.

“Is Zayne always reading this book?”

Everything…seems to be connected to the jasmine flower.

You open the book and study the text, paying special attention to the pages with notes left by Zayne.

“ ‘Once again, jasmine appears…’ How is it related to all of this?” You read his note out loud, and responding to your voice, the pages begin to glow. “What…is happening!?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a bright light shines in front of you.

When your vision returns, you find yourself in a sea of white flowers. The sun’s golden rays shine across the field of jasmines. Except the flowers that aren’t in bloom. They are all flower buds.

Nearby, a familiar figure, its watcher you presume, observes this field. “Huh– Zayne? Why are you here? Where are we?”

You slowly walk in his direction, running your hands through your hair.

What was this?? A dream within a dream or something?

Zayne turns to look at you, confusion in his expression. “Have we met before?”

“Um..”

“Who are you?”

As you approach him, you realize his body is but a mirage. Sunlight passes through his robes. His appearance is that of Zayne’s, but he lacks the Foreseer’s frigid character.

“Through what means did you enter this place?”

Well, whatever he was, this version of Zayne seems to be the most similar to your Zayne, so you didn’t want to give him too difficult of a time.

“I was just reading a…Huh. Am I in the book?” You bring your hand up to your chin to think, but Zayne speaks once more, “You stand in an illusion crafted by words and words alone.”

“Then what are you?”

A corner of his mouth curls up and he turns his gaze away from you. “A lonely wraith.” The sight of Zayne’s face smiling was the last thing you thought you’d see in this life.

Then again, you’ve met Jas. You have come to accept these bizarre events.

“Were you the one who planted these jasmines?” You crouch down near him to run your finger across the buds.

“They are more than just mere flowers.” His voice felt as free as the wind. While he was lonely here, he was able to express his emotions.

He didn’t feel cold at all.

“Are they phantasms?” As you ask him, you inspect the growth of the flowers. They seem to be in the same state as the jasmine on top of the roof of the Tower.

An image appears in your mind as your fingers touch the buds. Zayne lowering his head to kiss the jasmine.

The man in front of you seems just as surprised as you are.

“My memories..Or perhaps it would be better to say they are the jasmines in my memories.”

You wonder if the jasmines are actual flowers or if they’re meant to represent something…or someone. You touch another one.

This time you see Zayne in an unfamiliar garb, but still lowering his head to kiss the flower.

Wait, you recognize that outfit!

That’s…his hospital coat.

“Why does the Zayne in these memories appear to be from another era?” You look over at this Zayne and, even if this is a dream from the past, you can still feel anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“Each one is my life of another time.”

“Is your destiny and the jasmine intertwined?” As this version of you asks questions, you are left with no one to ask anything to.

Questions going unanswered and you ponder if maybe you– well, the protagonist of the games– are supposed to represent the jasmine flower.

“All I can recall is my end with that moment.”

“So…you know what I saw just now?”

At this point, you’re not sure if Zayne is upset or relieved to finally have someone to talk to.

“Again and again and again like a cycle…I do not remember what happens after. Therefore, these buds can never blossom. ‘Tis why I bring each one here.”

You stare out at the seemingly endless ocean of flower buds. If each one represents a memory without an end, then how many are there?

If you recall Zayne’s note: ‘Once again, jasmine appears…’

“Isn’t the Foreseer able to see the fate of everyone in the world?” You decide to sit down in the grass next to the man, running your fingers through the dewy blades.

“He cannot see his own.” The wraith, seemingly moments away from dissipating into the sunlight, looks into the distance. “Such is Astra’s will.”

Astra this, Astra that. You’re starting to think this guy isn’t as great and everyone says he is…

With a sigh, you leave the library and slowly climb the staircase to check on your jasmine. Your thoughts still linger on the book’s illusion and especially the wraith within.

You reach the top of the Tower and there, Zayne stands in the moon’s immaculate glow. It seems he’s thinking deeply while gazing at the jasmine. You understand its significance to him now.

He’s pinning his desire to remember onto the flower bud.

“You are not forbidden from entering the library, but you cannot venture there as you please.”

It seems he knew you were inside of that illusion…

”Zayne, have you ever considered leaving the Tower?” Your voice was soft, hands nervously grabbing onto one another as you tried to keep the pitied expression off of your face. Zayne looks at you, his emotions inexplicable.

“What text did you find to make you ask such a thing?”

“Maybe…These jasmines represent the outside–” Zayne silently lifts his hand up into the air, and you are abruptly pulled toward him. His hand grasps your throat, his wintery gaze meeting yours.

“Your insolence reveals itself. Allow me to remind you of your place.”

What the hell is his problem!? Why did you even have to worry about him in the first place..?

Just steal the protocore and leave, simple and easy…Right? Well, it would’ve been easy if you hadn’t– No, don’t even finish that thought.

You are not in love with the guy who is literally choking you right now.

Fear spreads through your very being, your fingers clawing at his hand around your throat. All of the sudden, the Creatio protocore on his scepter releases an eerie, indigo light.

Frowning, Zayne relaxes his grip and pushes you away. “Stand back.” Your brows furrow as you cough, holding a hand up to your slightly sore throat.

Now what?

“Zayne?”

“Stay away from me.”

Before you can do anything, a myriad of brambles sprout and slither with serpentine precision toward Zayne.

“What are these things!?” You were clearly in a panic, worried for yourself but also…worried for Zayne.

Seemingly alive, the brambles ensnare Zayne’s entire body and dig into his limbs and torso. It’s exactly like your first meeting, when he was bound to the throne.

“There…Are they preventing you from leaving?” You bring your hand up to your mouth in shock.

This…was how Astra treated His followers?

Zayne’s gaze is as cold as winter’s sting. “The Foreseer cannot set foot outside of the Tower of Thorns.”

One of the brambles rushes for you and you try your best to move out of the way. It manages to scrape your arm, a clean cut, almost as if it were trying to send a warning toward you.

Zayne lifts his finger and a wall of ice appears to shield you from the remaining brambles. “A few swipes is all it needs to take your life.” You remember how the Creatio protocore glowed when you talked about being outside the Tower.

“...Is it because I suggested you leave this place? Your wounds…Are they from the brambles?”

Is this your fault for mentioning anything?

“He is warning us.”

“...Astra?”

You were really starting to dislike this so-called ‘God’.

Though, you do recall that only Astra could “perpetually freeze” His Foreseer. The Creatio protocore…is that His method to keep an eye on the Foreseer?

Not only does Astra punish any attempt to leave the Tower, but even the mere thought of it is also intolerable.

“You’ve attempted to leave this Tower before…Haven’t you? That’s the reasoning behind all of your scars.”

What kind of God punishes His own followers?

“I have no recollections of such.”

“I’m sorry. I was unaware…I assumed you didn’t want to leave.” Your hand clenches into a fist.

Maybe…If you broke the Creatio– No, you still need it to ensure your survival.

“You’ve begged enough for forgiveness. Destiny’s guiding hand may have brought you here, but it is time to abandon your curiosity.”

The brambles seem to have calmed down and disappeared into smoke. If not for your wounded arm, you would’ve assumed you were dreaming.

“There will be a solar eclipse tomorrow. I must wait at the Tower’s pinnacle for the prophecy. Unless I tell you, you are prohibited from entering.”

“Astra gifted one of His eyes to the Foreseer. By walking the winding path of time did the Foreseer understand His passings. This is the power of a god.”

- Philos: Tome of the Foreseer

Hey guys! Hope you didn't forget about what I said earlier <3

I'm gonna soft-drop a few ideas I have here, just because I don't want to make a separate post if no one is actually interested!

So here's some old Google docs ideas I had; one was a marvel version of my hero academia– with like Iron Man as All Might and Spiderman as Izuku and our main character would've been someone else entirely. Gertrude Yorkes who is an actual character in the comics, who has a pet velociraptor (or a deinonychus). I have everything fleshed out (and by that I mean all of the teachers and I even included the Titans because...lets face it. They're some of the best DC characters.

I also had a sword art online fic and some black clover ocs but...let's not talk about them 😭

My miraculous type idea was instead of kwamis, there's spirits in the items. And it'll be slightly asian inspired with the two heroes being Yin and Yang to each other, like how Cat Noir and Ladybug are the opposites. Like the jewelry is called shinzō (which means heart), so if the jewelry is destroyed the divine beast inside of it will die. And the top evil person being a hot lady, possibly the female mc's older sister or something.

I had another my hero idea, but since it's hard to insert ocs into the main plot, I made my own school with teachers, students, etc. So instead of trying to fit an oc in, I decided to make it so much more difficult for myself by making over 20+ new characters and quirks for a new school in the universe of mha. 🕴 I still have it, but I honestly doubt I have plans to write it 😭 or any of the above ones besides maybe the miraculous spin-off one.

I had a BL (boy's love, gay, yaoi) isekai idea where either the mc is afab non-binary and isekai's into the body of a male character or I might just make them a boy instead? However, I might scrap this idea because I had a better one a few months later that was the mc being a trans man, but not being accepted so he uh...possibly unalives himself and then wakes up in an alternative universe where he's a man (and it's a/b/o for some reason) and the plus side to this is, the version of him in this universe was a trans woman. So, they switch realities and it's a whole "they were put in the wrong universe on accident" type of thing. Either way, both ideas were a/b/o and I definitely had more written for the first one (I even named it "Out of Tune"), but it's a toss up for if I'd write it or not.

I have an isekai one where the mc went into a game she was playing, a mature game so– yeah. I have an S-rank hunter story since there's not many dungeon stories with a female mc. I have a random regression story that I don't have much written on...one called "All the villainess wants to do is die", which I might change tbh, but the mc possibly isekai's ofc. And of course she's a wrongly accused villainess who is actually a saintess. There's magical powers usually based on family lines, there's divine beasts, just wild stuff like that!

Then I have a non-isekai story similar to the manwha "Philomel" where the mc reads a book about her life at a young age and learns she might be a fake princess and eventually gets executed for being a fake.

And then finally, my magnum opus, the game of thrones-like story. I had no name for it, the Google doc is simply named "Vothad, Odura" which is the name of the world it takes place in. Vothad is the capital in the North and I have the other names as well, but this note is getting pretty lengthy tbh 😭 so I'll make Odura have it's own post if anyone is interested in the gods and the universe itself. I made all of this for a project in the 12th grade to create our own country, only for my teacher to say...it had to be based in the real world on the day of the presentation so...imagine my surprise. I even had to come up with a stupid national anthem 😭

There is a lot more I could say about this one, but just let me know if yall wanna hear about it and I can make a separate post for it! Like I have some mythos I was working on, a lesbian goddess couple who spawned a kid from their brain like Zeus having Athena– and just about the geography of Odura!

Anyway, I am so sorry for the rant, I doubt anyone came here for original work. Yall are just here for the hot LADS men and, honestly, I can't blame you 🩷

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog , @shypotatoes013-blog

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ghoulishhx · 19 days ago

Note

hiya !! how are you? 🩷 i don’t know if you already wrote sth like this (if you have sry) but if you haven’t .. would you open to the idea of writing of dating frank and reader having a great sense of style and a rather big and full walk-in closet? obvi it could an unspecified style, so it can be inclusive to your followers 🩷

also this request falls on the hands of hannah montana, mia thermopolis and jenna rink for having the closets i so desperately wanted during the 2000s (and still want lol)

oh absolutely yes. what i would give to have a huge closet tailored specifically to me omg it truly is the dream.

and i feel like frank would eat this upp, when he first comes to your house to visit he cant help but stand in awe at your insanely huge closet. he doesn't know much about clothes or style, but he loves how much you do. he'd sit on the edge of your bed while you cycled through your collection, trying to pick the perfect outfit for date night, eyes focused on you and only you.

"ok frankie, what about this one?" you turn to him, showcasing the third outfit you've tried on. he looks you up and down, debating his opinion.

"hmm i don' know baby, i mean ya look fuckin' gorgeous, you'd look gorgeous in a trash bag, but i prefer the last one, the colour suits your eyes." he'd reply, reaching out to touch your hips, feeling the fabric between his fingers. "but don't think that means i hate this one, believe me i'd rip this off ya in a heartbeat if ya let me doll." he states with a wink, smacking your ass. you can't help but giggle as blush creeps up your neck as you go back to try on an additional four outfits, your dinner plans have absolutely been lost by now but it doesn't matter. you would be happy anywhere with frank.

as your relationship progresses and you fall deeper in love, you make the decision to move in together. you fell in love with a small apartment close to each of your's jobs. it was perfect, but the size definitely made you scared. you knew you would have to sacrifice your closet space and it crushed you, no matter how much you tried to hide it from him. he picked up on this instantly, and had to make it right.

"stay home sweetheart, i'll finish up moving the rest of the boxes, okay?" he places a kiss to your forehead as he leaves, truck full to the brim with your belongings. unbeknownst to you, he and Curtis had been planning to surprise you, completely knocking out a couple walls in your room to make space for a closet for you, one even bigger than your previous. the men worked for hours, being careful to not destroy parts of the apartment that weren't yours. taking the time to fill the space almost exactly the way you had it before, using sneaky photos he took of your closet as reference.

---

"frankie, what are you doing? why can't i look?"

"you'll find out soon enough sweet girl, just a few more steps and.. open ya eyes doll."

removing his hands from your eyes, the sight before you stuns you, your breath gets caught in your throat as your eyes travel over the space. your clothes organised in colours, dresses, skirts, pants etc.

"i.. i don't believe it. frank, you did this?"

"sure as shit didn't spawn outta nowhere babydoll." he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as he places a kiss on the top of your head. "ya like?"

"like? frankie baby i love. thank you, thank you so fucking much." you squeal, wrapping your arms around his waist, tears welling in your eyes at the gesture.

"don't gotta thank me for nothin', this is your space, no way was I jus' gonna ya let it go like that f'me. i love ya sweetheart."

"i love you more frank." you say pulling him into a bruising kiss, pulling away you instantly rush to your new closet, running your hands through your most prized items, heart bursting with love for Frank and your new home together.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i'm so obsessed with obsessed boyfriend!frank, so obsessed with his girl and her interests. ugh id do anything for him. i hope you enjoy this little drabble <3

my inbox is open!

♡ My Masterlist ♡

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher x reader #anon ask #thank you for the ask!#ask me anything #the punisher fluff #fluff #marvel fluff

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runningfrom2am · 8 months ago

Text

michigan cherry // part six

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

the songs in this chapter are: "scared of my guitar" by Olivia Rodrigo, "Michigan Cherry" by River Whyless, "Traveling Song" by Ryn Weaver, "Slim Pickins" by Sabrina Carpenter, and "Adore You - Acoustic" by Maisie Peters !!

a/n: ahhh hi it's my birthday! super excited to share this with you guys even though it isn't all that special or exciting but i'm just happy to be back :). last year for my birthday i posted in this life or the next and i wanted to finally get part 3 of that up today but that just wasn't going to happen BUT for everyone asking i am working on it. i swear. i'm not giving up on it!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

You thought that you might have heard somewhere that music is to the soul as opium is to a stubborn cough.

Or, maybe you dreamt that. Regardless, you knew for certain now that it was bullshit. But, with nowhere else to place your heartache, you found yourself sitting by a fire nearly every night with your guitar in your lap, humming soft words under your breath and plucking the strings as gently as you could.

It was for work, yes, but like opium, you had long since become addicted to the routine. Billy had too.

"You can play a little louder, y'know." He hums, tossing a broken twig into the campfire that separates you. "I was promised music in exchange for my services."

"And you get your music." You chuckle, hand pressed over the strings to stop their hum. "You haven't missed a show in almost two months, that ain't enough?"

"Sure, I'm just sayin' don't hold back your practice on my account. I'm happy to listen again." He answers with a soft smile, the yellow glow from the flames warming his features and bathing him in light.

You can't help the matching twitch of your lips to return his, feeling the slight burn in your cheeks that you can't confidently attribute to either the fire or your own blushing. "Well, it ain't much to listen to yet. Not finished."

"Ah, somethin' new?" Billy asks, leaning back on his palms and watching you expectantly as you give him a slight nod.

You're leaning over your guitar to scribble in that little notebook of yours, the pencil almost nothing more than a little nub in your hands and the pages of the book almost filled to the brim with words and notes. The temptation he faces every day to just grab it while you're sleeping or out away from the camp on a little walk has become an almost unbearable curiosity.

Because yes, he loves the songs you do sing, but what he wouldn't give to hear the ones you don't.

Billy would dive at any opportunity to see just a little more into your beautiful mind.

"Yeah, kinda." You hum in response, distracted again by the strings of your guitar effectively wrapping around your heart and your fingers and dragging your attention back to it.

"Okay, then, let me hear what you have so far."

You hate doing that, normally. You would hardly even play incomplete songs for your family when they were around- that awkward moment where you just have to trail off and go "Um, that's all I have..." and try to laugh but not too awkwardly was something painful.

But, this was Billy. Something about him compelled you to agree.

The problem was, the song you were currently meddling with the idea of may or may not be about him. You'd like to confirm with yourself that no, it is not about Billy, but damnit- he's the only person in your life. What else were you meant to write about?

You look down at the pages next to you, narrowed eyes reading over your own writing.

'Perfect, easy, so good to me. So why's there a pit in my gut, in the shape of you'-

Nope, nope, no. He's not hearing that.

You could deny all you wanted that the unfinished song was about him, try and claim to yourself that it was about Max- but deep down you knew the direction it was going.

You flick through the most recent pages, trying to spark your memory of something safer.

'Tart and sweet like a wild berry Tart and sweet your words to me Dark and red like a Michigan cherry Dark and red as the Iliad sea Here we lie in the deep night ready Here we lie, our skin is bare'-

That's definitely not going to work either. Your cheeks get somehow hotter and you clear your throat, flipping the page again.

Okay, this is much better.

"Like I said, it ain't done, so... not much to it yet, but..." You say, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes as you quickly scan the new page again and position your fingers over the guitar strings.

Billy gives you a steeled nod, sitting up a little straighter ready to listen as if he would be a judge of the quality of your music. It was a joke, you both knew it. He knew he couldn't come up with a critiquing word toward your music if he was held at gunpoint and forced to try.

"Nobody knows where they are going Oh, how we try to wrap our minds Over the edge of all our knowings Be it a bang or the divine Tip of my iceberg blues are showing I've never been one for goodbyes So, 'til I meet you there, I'm singing A traveling song to ease the ride And so you know, everywhere I roam I'll see you on the road."

Your voice is steady, focussed on getting it out rather than dwelling on the meaning of the words and Billy could tell.

"So farewell to my friend, He who taught me to love like a beast And to feast like the queen that he fed turtle soup Little boy from Paris to the States, check the facts That was Magical Max He was black sheep and mischief and love for his craft..."

His heart leaps at the little laugh that falls from your lips at the memory of your friend, your fingers slowing their strum to a steady halt. He doesn't expect you to continue, but you do, your smile quickly fading again back into an attempt at indifferent focus.

"Then he told me that I was starlights that shine On that very last day, he said "Shoot for your dreams, little girl, to the stars" Well, I'm taking you with me Now this one is ours and I know what you'd say you'd say "On with the show!" So on we go."

How embarrassing it is to almost cry singing a song that isn't done, for your best friend who would never live to hear it. Whose memory deserved to be shared. It wouldn't get very far if you couldn't even share it with one person; if you couldn't even stomach finishing it.

"Um, so... I'm not sure about chording for that last bit, or honestly the lyrics. I think it feels better without the guitar, but..." You say quickly, focussing yourself on your book and pretending to scribble something in it just so you wouldn't have to look at the boy sitting across the fire from you.

"I think it's perfect." Billy tells you, a softness to his tone you only had the pleasure of hearing once in a blue moon.

What he meant to say was that it's beautiful, that it's a flawlessly fitting tribute that he felt lucky to hear, that when sung by an angel's voice like yours he didn't doubt for a second that your friend Max had heard it from beyond the veil and loved it too. Even unfinished.

None of that was what came out though, essentially awestruck the way he always was at your shows- but this time he was able to actually speak to you after hearing it instead of just clapping, whistling, or if he was lucky, catching your gaze with a smile and a corny thumbs up that told you he thought you were doing great. Not that you needed it.

"Thanks." Your sweet voice replies, watching him for a moment you determine to be too long before your focus is back on the notebook next to you. "Anyway, um, if you want to hear something else unfinished, this one I think is going to be kind of funny."

"Show me what you've got, then."

Billy simply couldn't resist anymore.

Sitting absentmindedly on a hay bale in a barn where a local owner was gracious enough to let the two of you stay, that damned notebook seems to be glowing right in his face from the sunlight streaming through some bullet holes in the wood paneling that made up the side of the stable.

It's taunting him, he's sure of it.

This stare-down has been going on for about ten minutes since you left it out on the ground next to your guitar to go use the homeowner's washbasin to clean up when his wife offered- you weren't going to turn down a bath that wasn't in a creek.

That would probably take you a while though, you'd likely savour it, so he could just take a look. You'd sing him pretty much anything asked, and what could possibly be more vulnerable than that song you wrote about Max that you shared with him a couple of weeks ago? Surely you wouldn't mind all that much. On the off chance you ever found out. Which, of course, you wouldn't- because he would put it right back where it was after just skimming it.

It's not Billy's fault your handwriting just looks so pretty and you're a poet without publication privileges- it would just be a waste if no one ever read your pretty musings written oftentimes to no one.

And still, he convinces himself again, that you would never know.

He gets up and studies the book to make sure he could put it back down at the right angle before picking it up, hands gentler than they have ever been- like he was touching his mother's precious crystal vase, a wedding gift that had been long lost to time in several moves across the sea and then the country.

He opens the notebook and immediately he can see how you've grown since this book was first picked up by your delicate hands. How your print has changed from beginning to almost end, the pages all wrinkled from spills and humidity and time.

How lucky, he thinks, to be chosen by you for this journey of your life. Why does he feel so much camaraderie for a book?

He skims the pages, delighted to see that it isn't just full of words but drawings too; the sweetest most delicate doodles of little things like your guitar or a flower here and there squeezed in amongst the words on the pages. The amount of talent one young woman could possess astounded him, it's shocking that it doesn't drip out of your every pore in the very black ink that you use to write.

He can't help smiling a little to himself as he reads the scrawled titles and lyrics to songs he recognizes and he can practically hear your beautiful voice singing every word he's already heard.

'A boy who's nice that breathes- I swear, he's nowhere to be seen.'

That was the funnier song you sang to him those odd weeks ago, and just remembering the small laugh that fell from your lips as you sang the words makes him chuckle too as he reads it.

You had told him you wrote it with Sarah, and he could tell- based on the two distinctive styles of handwriting squeezed onto the small page.

He begins to realize as he flips through the pages of the small tattered notebook resting in his lap, that you had been dating the pages. Finished songs had dates of beginning and completion going back a little over a year, and he figures this must not be the first one you've gone through.

Billy comes to the near back of the notebook, as much as he would love to spend all day reading every word you'd ever translated turning your life into poetry or ballads of melodic storytelling, he knew his time was limited.

One song in particular catches his attention, though.

'So high that I am floating, So good that I'm out of my head. So low baby I was hurting, you made it better again.

Oh, we got caught in a moment, and I'll lay with you all night. So good that now I'm hoping you'll hold me down for life.

I adore, I adore, I adore you.'

The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile as he reads the words, scribbled out and rewritten several times in some places.

It's unfinished, but dated to have been started a couple of weeks ago. He remembers you had asked him what the date was that day, and saw you write it down as he answered- your hair falling over your face and brushing your shoulders as it shielded the book from his view.

A couple weeks ago.

And the drawing- oh, how his heart flutters in his chest so quickly it feels like his ribs have transformed into a sparrow's cage.

To Billy, it looked like him. He knew he must be thinking crazy, after all, it had been a while since he had had a proper look in a mirror, but it sure felt like he was right now- down to the little feathers on his hat and the shape of his cupid's bow. You had given yourself away with the scope of your artistic faith.

"What are you doing?"

At the sound of your voice, slightly hesitant as you stand in the entrance to the barn, he slams the book shut and jumps just about a foot in the air; a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"N-nothing! I just, it just- um..." It was still clutched in his hands, already weary of parting with the precious object of your affections. "It, um... It fell, and I- I just picked it up, and-"

When he looks up at you, you look mildly horrified; cheeks burning the same way his are and eyes blown wide like you had been the one who was caught doing something wrong.

Neither of you move, both frozen on the spot, terrified of the next words that might fall from the lips of the other.

You weren't about to incriminate yourself by asking in a shaky voice if he had read or looked at any of it, knowing he did, and he wasn't going to ask if that song or any others he skimmed (and wish he took more care reading) were about him like he hoped they were.

After a moment of staring at each other like both of you were hostages with guns to your head respectively, you both decide to make the first move at the exact same time. He quickly holds the book out to you at the very moment you reach out to take it, and the awkward exchange makes you want to curl up under the hay bale you were meant to sleep on and rot there.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#michigan cherry !#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid imagines #billy bonney #billy the kid #william bonney x you #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william bonney x reader #william bonney #william h bonney #tom blyth fic #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth x reader

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edutainer2022 · 1 month ago

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Putting the story up anew for @lenle-g and her amazing Dad and baby!Scott art.

SHIELD OF PROOF

**Then**

"It isn't fair!"

His wife's huff is equal parts amusement and exasperation.

"How do you do that, Jeff? Seriously? I get stranded with a toddler shaped supersonic jet. You waltz in from the Moon and he's the sleepy kitty, napping at a drop of a hat!"

She throws her hands up in a dramatic flare, but her eyes are brimming with fondness. He hides a smile in the crown of fluffy brown hair and makes it a kiss for good measure. The sleeping child is breathing puffs of air into his chest, one tiny arm hugging Dad as best he can, another still holding a toy plane. Jeff could never imagine the idea of a heart swelling with love could feel so real.

"Well, at least Virgil gives you no trouble. That little guy could sleep through a rocket take off."

Which he promptly has. Baby Virgil made GDF private chat trends, having famously slept all through his Dad's launch to Alpha Shadow base.

The trick with Scott, a firm believer in going "run", "fast", "jump" and "vroom" ALL THE TIME, and a self-proclaimed nap-nihilist at a wise age of two and a half, was to remember the little fella was a Tracy. It would get you nowhere to talk him out or to deny what he's set his mind on. But it was possible to reason with the boy and suggest a more optimal solution to obtain the ultimete goal (running about with a toy plane, making engine noises) - say, the plane engines needed to cool down, so how about we wait for a moment right there, on the couch, and then it can fly even faster. Between officer training tips and the unbridled adoration and trust in the bright blue eyes - Jeff soon had a sound asleep toddler in his arms. Or maybe it was because the arms were strong, and big, and Dad, and Dad was THERE.

His wife is openly smiling now, reaching down to extract the toy from the small hand.

"Do you want me to take him? I'm going to check on Virgie anyway."

He adjusts his hold on the warm, small weight with one hand and pulls her closer for a quick kiss.

"Nah, we're good. I'll get Virgie once this little man is up and about again."

Which is bound to happen sooner than they'd both like. The house will be filled with invigorated pitpat of tiny running feet, and shrieks of delight, and little grumbly noises the roused baby would be making, as he would take Virgil to the back porch. But for now he settled to listen to his son's even breathing, enjoying the quiet while it lasted. He was home.

**Now**

"How did you do it, Dad?!"

Virgil's baritone barely passed for stage whisper. He played along, raising a quisical brow at his son's dramatic gesture, spanning the length of the Island infirmary bed. Or rather, the considerable length of Scott, tucked to his side, sound asleep. To his credit, Jeff tried for looking sheepish, but it came out more cheeky than anything. Virgil was having none of that - hands up in the air.

"Seriously? You've been back from space for what? Twenty minutes? And you already have him cooperate, have an arm in a sling AND asleep?! It would have taken me the better half of the night!"

Jeff promptly bit down a response that he also got Scott to take painkillers and agree to a deeper scan first thing in the morning. All under half an hour. It felt a little bit comforting to know eight years down the line and he still had what it takes to stare down an adult son who was "fine, Dad, it's nothing, you need to rest!" and had just incidentally led a mission to rescue his hide from the far corner of the galaxy (having tumbled down half an exploding planetoid in the process). What didn't sit comfortably was the offhand understanding his other son would consider himself on Scott wrangling duty 24/7 apparently. It truly had been a long while since he was their father. This would need to change. He shifted a light hold on Scott's slumbering frame, mindful of the shoulder, secured in a sling over his shirt and (now confirmed) bruised ribs - and smiled up at Virgil.

"I have my bag of tricks, son."

Virgil's soft gaze was quickly shiting gears back to a deeper shade of worry (something Jeff need to nip in the bud), as his hand reached for the medscanner. Which was obviously redundant as it was, likely, the scanner activation that sent his second eldest careening back to the infirmary. His mother barely managed to shoo everyone out to begin with, after Jeff had been settled and hooked up to monitors and IV lines. Alan was beat and half asleep on his feet. John was back up in orbit, to set up sorting data from their incredible trip with Eos (Jeff was a little fuzzy who that was, again - a student? some kind of child prodigy?). Kayo took off with the GDF and her uncle, having given Jeff a fierce hug. Gordon was bidding goodbye to Penelope (and Parker, of course) or whatever the kids called it these days (Jeff filed that one to bask in amusement later). Scott and Virgil were determined to keep round the clock vigil and to not leave his side (possibly ever). Between himself and Mom he managed to negotiate Scott taking the first shift, fully intending to set up camp by his bedside and start on the report of the Zero-XL mission. The GDF guys did eye them funny, but still. A report right away? Jeff hid a sigh in a fit of cough. He had a mission of his own, till eight years of fatigue drew him under. Back on the planetoid, crumbling beneath his feet, the lifelong instincts helped compute the flash of lanky blue, tumbling as a ragdoll into the void, into the alarm claxon, blaring "son" and "fall", translating the surge of adrenaline into a single focus - "catch!", a move well honed ever since baby Scott first swandived off a backrest of a couch. Between taking in his son dangling off the death grip of his hand over the abyss, blue eyes transfixed in a mixture of awe and shock, meeting the rest of the boys all grown up and surreally THERE, in his arms, exposing the Hood in a surge of fury so consuming he was sure he scared his kids, and hugging his mother upon landing, he did allocate a breathing moment to process the thought there was no way Scott hadn't hit anything through the collision with every boulder that had been Jeff's home for eight years, or hadn't pulled anything in their drop and grab maneuver.

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #jeff tracy #lucy tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #my fic

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aching-tummies · 24 days ago

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Might as well try my luck! Have to piggy back from the last anon and be "Rough" to your tummy when it's painfully stuffed. It just adds a little extra something when your already feel like your gonna pop and everything I'm doing to your tummy is definitely not helping. Combine this with a little pyloric valve abuse and I think your gonna be in for a long night. Taking your tummy from painfully stuffed to suddenly hallow and empty as your intestines are forced to fill with a ton of mush that is hours early. Don't even get me started on the process of forcing your painfully stuffed tummy to empty early to. With all that stuffed into your intestines now that means there's plenty of room in your tummy again. A big hefty meal later with plenty of liquids and you'll be right back to painfully stuffed. A few cycles of forcing more out of your stomach into your already packed intestines and then packing your tummy right back up to the brim and you'll be completely stuffed solid from top to bottom. Painfully stuffed and drum tight as your whole abdomen gurgles. A few hard slaps to really increase the ache your feeling in your tummy and then i think its time we break out the suction toys and see how much your poor navel can take when your that full.

////<

Pyloric valve abuse + suction toys? Ok--100% yup. I'm hanging out with you.

I don't know how much of a hang-out this is going to be. My guts are pretty sluggish, particularly when they are over-full. I try not to stuff myself often because my stomach feels over-full for hours upon hours when I do (sometimes days, depending on the food). Forcing stuff to funnel into my intestines before they usually do, shocking my intestines with the sudden influx of barely-digested food…that's a recipe for a nasty tummy ache--guaranteed. Not sure how fun the hang-out will be 'cuz I'll basically be laying there, squirming and probably crying from my stomach aching.

Ugh…you did all that just to make more room? You really are playing rough. And liquids too? Oh gosh…so you're going for the triple threat of full, sloshy, and sick? Did you graduate with a MBA (Master of Belly Abuse)?

A few cycles? I don't know how many I can take. Just one would have my torso fit to bursting--zero give in both the upper or lower area. The stuff you packed into my stomach-organ would sit like curing cement 'cuz there's nowhere to go with my intestines as packed as they are with food that hasn't digested enough for them to deal with (easily). 'Stuffed solid'--emphasis on 'solid'--oooh…rock-hard abs…without the abs.

You're gonna slap it? Ooh…I don't know. It'd be like slapping a brick wall--your hand would start to hurt, for sure. And the shockwaves would be useless, just make me feel every little reverb as they travel through the dense mass that is food and guts. It'd feel interesting, for sure.

The suction toy? Dang. That's going to do some damage. My navel's pretty stubborn and it actually takes a lot to get it up and out. As packed-full as I'd be, I don't know if there'll be enough give for my taut belly to allow my navel to come up. The stretch would be intense if it didn't rip the thin, sensitive skin of my navel outright. If you get lucky, like a crane game, and manage to draw up a bit of intestine with that toy, we're going to be in for a live performance of our favourite orchestra--The Intestines ft. Indigestion. My intestines would be griping and gurgling angrily at the suction toy, for sure.

And, of course, what's the point of a suction toy if you don't get to tease and torment that sensitive nub you've so carefully extracted? To prevent it from going back in, like a shy turtle, you've probably already got those little elastics on-hand, don't you? You're gonna tie off my stubborn navel, aren't you? You gotta move fast though--once it's been tied off like the loose end of an engorged balloon, it's gonna go numb really quick. If you want me to feel anything you do to it--start flicking, or something before it just all feels like pins and needles to me.

What other fun could we have with my stomach in this state? Anyone else wanna inspire something?

#tummy kink #tummy ache kink #tummy ache #upset tummy #stomach ache #aching tummies

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plaidos · 5 months ago

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PZ girlie here again bc so far none of my friends have taken the bait and thus I have nowhere to celebrate my progress:

I've managed to survive more than a week in one go! I can take on groups of 5-10 zombies now without too much trouble, as long as I manage to keep myself from getting surrounded. my favorite weapon is the pipe wrench, though the baseball bat has also been really useful. I have yet to fire a gun, and I feel like I'm probably going to keep it that way since they attract SO much attention.

My next issue is finding a permanent base: I've been doing a really nomadic thing so far, moving from house to house and then finding a place to crash when I need to sleep. One playthrough I made the mistake of walking out to the countryside with no car and even though I was surviving okay I got so bored that I found the biggest group of zombies I could and ended the run early. any base suggestions for muldraugh or rosewood?

boy do i have incredibly good base suggestions for specifically muldraugh and rosewood!!!

in Rosewood check out the fire station in the south. it’s got everything a prospective base needs — two floors ✅ built-in kitchen with oven ✅ plenty of storage space ✅ dual garage ✅ it’s in the safest spot in Rosewood imo (there’s an open field across the street perfect for farming) and it’s literally across the road from the police station which should be filled to the brim with guns to steal, and police batons if you don’t wanna fire a bullet. it’s also near a residential area so it’s already blocked off by a big fence from most angles, it’s very easy to fence off this courtyard-like parking lot outside the front, plus it’ll have a ton of fireman clothes which are really tough & provide a lot of protection and if you run out you can always take a trip into town for long enough for zombies to respawn back near the fire department for infinite fire helmets/axes/etc

Muldraugh is definitely a tougher start for a newer player but the Mass Gen Fac Co warehouse building on the north side of town. it has THREE floors (technically four if you build a staircase up to put rain collectors over the stairwell, which i have) one of which is just fully outside and you can FARM THINGS FROM THE ROOF!!! it’s literally packed to the brim with the biggest storage containers in the game and they’re almost all full of useful tools etc. it also has a dual garage & a parking lot, but the only downside is no oven so you’re gonna have to go find some houses nearby to cook or if you’re my friend @quantumshade you’ll disassemble 100 digital watches until you can move an oven into the base.

good luck!!!

#project zomboid

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supernaturalscribe67 · 2 years ago

Text

Euphoric

Words: 3,587

POV: 3rd Person and brief 1st Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, Dysphoria, a single mention of Deadname (D/N), self-hate, mention of past self-harm, attempted self-harm, hurt/comfort

Summary: Dysphoria can hit at any moment, and when it hits, it hits hard. The reader is going through a tough time with the way he looks, doubting himself and the people around him. When he feels at his lowest, ready to seep back into his old ways, his boyfriend, Gabriel, is there to help him out.

Request:

Hi I've been binge-reading your stories recently and I was wondering if you could do this request. :)

So a Gabriel/FTM!Reader where the reader is dealing with really bad dysphoria (possibly mentioning past SH?) and a comforting Gabe? Possibly with an established relationship?

(Would be so fucking rad if he Sam and Dean's younger brother!!)

Tysm even if you don't do this, I love your work so much and it's helped so much recently

@genekies

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, hun! A lot has been going on at work that has taken my focus away from writing. However, I finally found the inspiration to write this with the help of my Supernatural novels that I found hidden away in a box! I really hope you enjoy this story and that it brings you some type of comfort! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Good morning, sugarplum!

Sorry, I couldn’t be there when you woke up this morning. Duty calls. I’ll be back later tonight! I hope you have a good day! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! <3

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

Why do some people wake up with an already negative attitude? A multitude of factors could be the cause; relationship issues, low self-esteem, stress, unhealthy thoughts, and lack of sleep are just a handful of possibilities. Some have their reasonings read out to them by a licensed professional they pay an arm and a leg to visit every couple of weeks, while others lack the funds and/or the proper motivation to cope, so they bottle it up inside, casting it away to the darkest depths of their mind for weeks, maybe months. They ignore the feelings they get, the troubles that stalk them, until the bottle inside of them fills to the brim. It shakes and stirs, begging for release. It spills out, slowly at first, but then the pressure becomes too much to handle, and it combusts.

And (Y/N) felt like he was about to explode.

Nothing looked right. His jawline wasn’t sharp enough, his curves were more pronounced than ever, his binder didn’t make him flat enough, he was too short, the hair on his face was barely considered peach fuzz at that point, and his eyes - yes, his eyes - screamed femininity. Screamed female. Screamed everything about you is wrong. Screamed;

You are not a man, and you never will be.

It wasn’t often that his gender dysphoria acted out as bad as it had that day. Sure, there were times when he woke up and the negative thoughts just never seemed to go away. The thoughts that made certain parts of him look wrong, misplaced. Rarely had his mind told him that everything about him was wrong. Rarely did his mind tell him he wasn’t the man he wanted to be. But, when those thoughts arose, they hit him hard, as if he got struck by a semi-truck going eighty on the interstate. It hollowed him out and made him a shell of his former self. A shell that was slowly wilting away.

His brothers were the first to notice his shift in demeanor. While he normally came into the kitchen every morning with a goofy grin on his face, a smile was nowhere to be seen. His head was cast down and he barely spoke a word to either Sam or Dean. Another thing they noticed was the lack of exposed skin he had. Usually, (Y/N) would walk out of his room clad in a t-shirt and shorts in the morning. That day, he wore a hoodie, sweatpants, and socks. The temperature in the bunker hadn’t changed, so it wouldn’t make sense that he was cold. If he had been, he would have complained about it for the rest of the day, yet he didn’t say a word. Instead, he silently got some coffee and sat down with his brothers at the table. He didn’t engage in conversation.

Later on, the three of them sat in the library, heads buried in books and computer screens. They would typically sit around, and talk about potential hunts or random information that they had found. (Y/N) acted the same way he did when he was in the kitchen, though. He was physically present, but nowhere near as mentally present. His head was down, the cord from his earbuds wrapped around his phone, which was sitting next to the book he had been reading. It didn’t even seem as if he was actively reading the text. It had been ten minutes since he turned the page.

Sam leaned closer to Dean, who sat next to him. “Does he seem off to you?” He asked in a low, quiet voice.

Dean looked up from his computer and glanced over at his youngest brother. He hesitated, studying him for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, something’s wrong with him. Has he said anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“Do you think it has something to do with Gabriel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Dean pursed his lips for a moment before he turned back to (Y/N). He leaned over and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. (Y/N) lifted his head to look at his brother and, for the first time that whole morning, their eyes connected. Dean noticed something almost immediately. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion. (Y/N) took an earbud out.

“Yeah?” He asked, voice low and monotone.

“Hey, man, you doing okay?”

(Y/N) looked away for a moment. “Yeah?” He shook his head and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a bit off today.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did something happen with Gabriel?” Sam asked.

“No? I said I’m fine.”

“Ok, well, obviously you’re not,” Dean said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” (Y/N) spoke in an exasperated tone.

“(Y/N),” Sam leaned forward, palms flat on the wooden surface. “If something’s wrong, you know you can tell us, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Will you two stop fucking bugging me!?” He exclaimed.

(Y/N) slammed his book shut and shoved it away from him. Quickly, he stood, stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, and stormed out of the library. Sam and Dean’s eyes were attached to him until he was out of sight. Dean and Sam shot a glance at one another, both of them opening their mouths as if to say something, but decided against it before they went back to their work.

(Y/N) was numb, aside from the small annoyance that had bubbled up inside of him from his brothers’ persistence. One common trait that was distributed through all the Winchester siblings was the lack of willingness to talk about their emotions. It was an ideology that was beaten into them when they were younger and first got into hunting. Bury your emotions deep within, don’t let them show, and don’t let your enemy know your weakness. Hell, don’t let your allies know your weaknesses, either. They’ll turn their back on you if they see you at your lowest. Stay strong, hide your feelings, and don’t let anyone in, even if it’s family.

When he made it back to his room, he walked over to the small dresser that was pressed along the far wall. Beside the dresser sat his tennis shoes. He grabbed them and put them on. He walked back over to the dresser, opened up the top drawer, and rummaged around in his undergarments for a moment before he fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds. The box was slightly creased, the plastic rustling in his grasp. It had been a while since he had a cigarette. He hadn’t felt the need for them, but he could feel the stress and anxiety grumble inside of him. He needed something to clear his mind. (Y/N) placed the carton into his hoodie pocket and left his room.

As he made his way past the library archway, he was stopped by his brother’s voice.

“Where’re you going?” Dean piped up.

(Y/N) stopped in his tracks and turned towards them. “Out.”

“Out where?” Sam asked.

“Look, I’m just going to take a walk around the bunker, that’s all. Going to clear my head.”

Dean and Sam shared a look. “You sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Just need a breather is all.”

“Alright, well…don’t go wandering too far.”

“I won’t.” (Y/N) shared a small smile.

Sam and Dean returned the smile as (Y/N) turned his back on his brothers and headed up the staircase toward the front door.

The afternoon sun slithered past the canopy of oak tree branches. Orange, red, and yellow leaves shined bright, painting the dirt floor like a kaleidoscope. About half a mile from the bunker, a dead tree had fallen during a heavy thunderstorm several years prior. The trunk has since been embedded in the ground, forming a natural bench in the middle of the forest. This was where (Y/N) had gone to clear his head.

He sat at the edge of the log, back slouched, elbows resting against his knees, and hands hung limply between his legs. The smoke from his lit cig wafted upward towards the treetops. The end of the cigarette slowly withered away, a small amount of ash falling upon the autumn leaves. His eyes were cast down and glazed over, the thoughts in his mind running at a hundred miles an hour.

You’re delusional. A man? No one would ever consider you a man. You look nothing like a man. Nothing like what you want to, and you never will. You’ll always look like the girl you were born as. You’ll always be (D/N), and there is nothing you can do about it. Sam, Dean, Gabriel? They’re all lying to you. They’re feeding into your delusion because they feel bad for you. They don’t love you or support you. They’ll never see you as a man. Never have and never will.

(Y/N) lowered his head as he brought the cigarette up to his lips. He inhaled deeply, feeling the burn of the smoke filling his lungs, before he brought the cig away from his mouth. He tapped the end of the cig, the ash falling onto the ground. As he shifted, the sleeves of his hoodie lifted, the remnants of depressive episodes from his past peeking out through the cotton fabric. His eyes shifted to the discolored scars. He could remember how he felt when he first made the scars. The relaxation he felt afterward, the relief. It was a distraction from the pain he felt within. It was a distraction that he desperately craved.

For a moment, he looked at the end of the cigarette. It was slowly dwindling to half its original length. He shifted it in his fingers and brought it to his wrist, stopping right before the end of the butt touched his skin. He hesitated and contemplated. (Y/N) closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved the cig closer to his arm.

“Hey Sugarplum,” the voice came out of nowhere.

(Y/N) let out a startled shout, the cigarette fell to the ground as he turned toward the sound of the voice. Sitting beside him on the log was Gabriel, his signature smirk etched onto his lips. (Y/N) sighed and leaned down, grabbed the butt, brought it to his lips, and took a final drag. He then lifted his foot and put the cig out on the bottom of his shoe before he flicked the remnants onto the ground. He placed his hand on the log and exhaled, the smoke leaving his lungs and creating a halo around his head.

“A little birdie or two told me you went on a walk. The little birdie also told me you weren’t feeling the best.” Gabriel said as he reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders.

(Y/N) could feel himself instantly relax at Gabriel’s touch, the tension leaving his shoulders. So much was going through his head. So many emotions beating at his heart, begging to be released, begging to be expressed. Yet something was stopping them.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, his voice soft.

The smirk was gone from Gabriel’s face, his expression turned more serious. He inched closer to (Y/N) so that their sides were pressing against one another. He pulled him close.

“You know that’s not true,” Gabriel whispered. He pressed his nose against (Y/N)’s cheek. He ran his fingers through his hair softly and soothingly. “I can hear everything going on in your pretty little head, sugar, and I know that it’s not quiet.”

Gabriel’s closeness was comforting, something that he had been craving all day. The longer Gabriel sat next to him, the more relaxed he felt, yet the demons were still scratching at the inner crevices of his mind. With the mixed feelings he experienced, it was all so overwhelming. (Y/N) recognized the familiar prickle of tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gabriel breathed as he wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s body, pulling him as close as he could, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest.

(Y/N) sniffled as he allowed the tears to fall, something that didn’t happen very often. Something he would, normally, not let himself do. Be vulnerable. Vulnerability is what gets you killed in the hunting career, and there was no time for that. Still, the warm feeling of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around him made him feel at home, made him feel safe, and told him that it was okay to let himself go.

Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s back. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked quietly.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment as he clasped his hands together. He rubbed the back of his knuckles, a soothing gesture he learned from a young age. “I don’t…” he trailed and let out a sigh, shoulders slouched. “I don’t look like a man.”

“What?” Gabriel furrowed his brows.

“I don’t look like a man, okay!?” (Y/N) exclaimed and moved away from Gabriel, standing abruptly. “I mean, look at me! I’m so short and feminine! Look at my hips! Look at my face! Everything about me is wrong. Everything about me isn’t what it’s supposed to be and it’s killing me.” (Y/N)’s voice got louder, frustration evident in his tone.

The tears were freefalling, and (Y/N) did not attempt to wipe them away. Gabriel simply stared up at him, listening, a saddened expression making its way across his face.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and see nothing but a body that you hate? A body that you don’t want to be in? That you feel like you don’t belong in? It feels like my life is a lie, that I’ve just been kidding myself when I said that I could finally be the man that I always wanted to be. Everything that you or Sam or Dean have said about me, validating my emotions, supporting me through everything, was just some pathetic pity party in an attempt to make me feel better about myself, even though, deep down, I know I’m not going to look anything like I want to. I’m not going to be the man that I’ve always dreamt I’d be because I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this worthless body that I was forced to have and I can’t do anything about it. I want…”

The tears were coming faster now, his words becoming shaky, almost unintelligible.

“I want to be happy…but I look at myself and I just can’t.”

Gabriel stood and walked over to him. “(Y/N), look at me,” he reached down and cupped (Y/N)’s wet cheeks, lifting his head so that he could gaze into his reddening eyes. He used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He had a smile on his face.

(Y/N) sniffled. “What?”

“I see a handsome, strong, brave man who risks his life daily for the people that he loves. I see a man with a heart of gold, who would do anything to make other people happy. I see the most handsome man on the face of this planet, the most wonderful man that my father had ever created. More importantly, I see your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Yes, your soul. I see how bright, beautiful, magnificent, and glorious it is. How perfect it is. The man you truly are.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s middle. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him, running his fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s hard some days. You look at yourself and don’t like what you see. You feel like there’s nothing you can do to change it. That people aren’t going to see you for who you are. I hate to break it to you, sugarplum, but that’s all I see.” He chuckled deeply. “All I can see is the man you are. The man you were meant to be. And some days are going to be harder than others, you're going to beat yourself up more than you should, and that’s okay. Because, in the end, you’ll get through this. You’ll gain your confidence back. You’ll see yourself and finally say ‘This is me’, and I am going to be with you every step of the way.”

Gabriel leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of (Y/N)’s forehead.

“Because I love you. Every part of you. The parts that you like and the parts that you don’t like. I love it even more when you’re happy with yourself. When you love yourself. And even if I pop in one day and you’re dressed as an Oompa Loompa with a five-foot-tall bright green and yellow mohawk and a beard the size of Gandolf’s, then I would still love you.”

(Y/N) snorted and let out a short laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” (Y/N) shook his head. “An Oompa Loompa?”

“Hey, it’s not my place to judge if or when you decide to dress up as an Oompa Loompa.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, a smile curled into the corner of his lips. Gabriel brushed his wet cheek with his thumb.

“Feeling better?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good, I’m glad. And I’m proud of you.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows and glanced up at Gabriel. “For what?”

“For telling me how you feel. If I know anything about you Winchesters, I know that that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t. But…it felt good.”

Gabriel nodded. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against (Y/N)’s lips. When he pulled back, he stared lovingly into his eyes.

“You’re my person, (Y/N). The person that I love and care for, and if you ever feel like this again, just give me a shout and I’ll be there faster than you can get my name out of your mouth. I never want you to be alone when you feel like this. You don’t deserve to be alone through this. Promise me that you’ll call me next time you feel like this?” Gabriel’s hands trailed down from his face to his arms and stopped to grab his wrists gently. He rubbed them softly through the sleeves.

(Y/N) opened his mouth and hesitated. “I can��t promise, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Gabriel smirked and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now, do you want to go back to the bunker? We can cuddle on your bed, and watch some of those terrible reality TV shows. I think I have a bit of an addiction to 90-Day-Fiance.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Do you mind if we sit out here for a little bit? It’s a beautiful day out and…I’m not quite ready to go back inside yet.”

“Of course, anything for my sugarplum,” he leaned forward, his nose brushing gently against (Y/N)’s.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) whispered. “I love you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. You deserve the world and every beautiful thing in it.”

“I don’t want the world. All I want is you.”

“Then have me you shall. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always?” (Y/N) lifted a hand, his pinkie finger sticking out.

Gabriel smirked and chuckled. He lifted a hand, hooked his pinkie onto (Y/N)’s, and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Forever and always.”

My Dearest (Y/N),

I’m writing this, not as one of my regular notes, but as a reminder to you. I want you to pack this away somewhere safe where you can take it out and read it whenever you feel down about yourself in any way.

You are strong. You are brave. You are handsome. You are perfect. You are loved. You are you.

I know it’s hard to see yourself in a positive light at the moment, and everything may seem like it’s closing in as if nothing is going right and it will never get fixed, but, just know, you’ll make it through this. Just like you’ve done on multiple hunts, you will prevail. You will conquer the enemy, even if that enemy is yourself.

Remember, you don’t have to fight this battle alone. I’m here for you, and so is Sam and Dean. We all love you so much and we want you to be happy! We love seeing your smile when you walk into a room. You brighten our day just by being you, and nothing will ever change that.

If you need anything, anything at all, just think of me, and I will be there for you. We can watch your favorite movie and I’ll even bring you some of those little dessert cakes you like from the cafe I took you to on our first date. Even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, I want you to know that you don’t have to suffer in silence. Not while I’m around. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you go through.

I love you,

Forever and always,

Your Casanova,

Gabriel

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error-dream-was-found · 5 months ago

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More proof that I'm alive and writing

You know what is better than one snippet to prove that your author is not dead? Two snippets! (Yes, I have the attention span of a hyperactive squirrel and jump between two works but this ain't about that)

Snippet 'monsters don't deserve hugs but you aren't a monster' edition:

“- should kill him.”

Dream's train of thought crashed when he caught a piece of someone else's conversation, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who they were referring to. Suddenly, being punished by Bad became a lesser concern in the face of a new, worse punishment. He had tried so hard, endured months of torture, pain, and dehumanization just to survive. Now people wanted to take even that from him once again. He didn't come this far to die here. He’d rather they untie Quackity and continue his training than die. But despite the panic seizing his chest, he couldn’t get his mind to focus on all the voices. He could only catch bits and pieces of everything being said.

“-got out?”

“Should’ve killed-”

“Less trouble-”

“- put him back.”

“- can’t be free.”

“- monster-”

“- too dangerous-”

With each word, each clipped bit of conversation he heard, fear gripped his heart stronger. Every once in a while, he could hear one of his friends’ voices speak up in his defense, attempting to placate the crowd but it was nearly drowned out by everyone else. He thought his friends would protect him. Now, he wasn’t so sure. There were too many people, even on the odd chance that his friends would try and fight for him they would be outmatched. In the best-case scenario, people might believe he had manipulated them. He could probably convince them of it. But if not … his friends could die and it would all be his fault! He couldn’t let that happen!

Maybe his friends would be smart and not fight for him? There were too many people and they all hated him, they all wanted him dead. Only a fool would try to fight them all-

“Dream?”

A voice sounded out near him, filled to the brim with worry, but Dream didn’t hear that. All he could hear in his head was contempt and disgust, voices talking about killing him before he could cause more trouble and hurt everyone again. His friends were trying to explain, but he knew it would not work. No one ever listened when he tried to explain. Why would they now? They only cared about a single thing—putting him six feet under. Maybe after that, they would ask questions, but it would be too late. It was always too late by the time they asked.

He flinched, shying back from the voice, only to freeze when he realized he had nowhere to go. The wall was firm against his back and there was no escaping his punishment. But he didn’t want to die! Tears pushed into his eyes as the desperation crept in. He didn’t want to die, he was just 22 and he still hadn’t made it up to his friends and he- he never got to experience what a family is and-

A black, clawed hand, far too big to belong to a human, entered his field of vision. The claws were shining sinisterly in the light, promising pain. He could already feel them tearing through his flesh and ripping him to sheds. Just like sir’s knives did before.

Dream’s already rapid breathing sped up even more when the mental image formed, and he curled in on himself instinctively, shielding Patches with his whole body. The cat squirmed in his hold, trying to get out, but he didn’t let her, he couldn’t. The demon was too close, his claws just moments from tearing into Dream and-

“- better off death-”

“No!”

#c!dream #dsmp #c!george #c!badboyhalo #c!bad #c!sapnap #c!quackity #c!sam #c!karl #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #monsters don't deserve hugs #can i tell you a story?#snippet

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binniesoob · 2 years ago

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The Name Chapter: Freefall Concepts Analysis

let's analyze the concept pictures and trailers for the new upcoming TXT album! there are a lot of details hidden everywhere 👀

looks like my predictions were mostly right btw 🤭 if you haven't yet, i suggest you read them here before reading this post because they are strictly connected!

— REALITY VERSION

We didn't get an obvious autumn setting, but we did get colder rainy weather:

TXT just fell down to earth, to the harsh reality of things, they don't have nowhere to run away to anymore.

The vibes are very reminiscent of the Mess concept for Minisode 2, after all, TXT's feelings are the same: in Mess they just lost their first romantic love, their other/new Neverland.

Mess was also connected to the You version of Freeze, through props as well (the teddy bear, the flowers, the helmet, etc.), and Reality is now connected to You as well, because of the rain and umbrellas it looks like a darker sad version of it.

Just a quick recap...

1) YOU in Freeze = TXT found their first romantic love (aka Moa, very y/n fanfic of them ik ik) and invite them on a date.

2) MESS in Tuesday's Child = Moa doesn't show up to the date because it's actually tootiming all five of them 🤡 (see Lo$er=Lo♡er mv and Good Boy Gone Bad Japanese version mv). TXT are now about to go back to their childhood Neverland to mend their broken hearts and refuse the pain that comes with growing up.

3) REALITY in Freefall = TXT are heartbroken again, this time because they had to leave Neverland too and there's no way of escaping growing pains... 😔

(i swear i'm gonna complete the storyline summary with Minisode 2 by the end of the year 🧍‍♀️)

This version is also FILLED! TO! THE! BRIM! with hints through words and phrases written everywhere, on walls, signs, clothes...

If you zoom in the pictures you should be able to read them, i'm gonna list all those i found and collected and what i think they stand for:

• "step to earth" = TXT are back to earth/reality

• "tel: 03042019" and "fax 08222019" = the numbers contain the dates of TXT debut and moa day: TXT should talk their feelings out with eachother and connect with Moa again (are we going to see TXT coming in contact again with Moa in the music video? 👀 are we gonna get love songs again in this album?)

• “find my feet” = TXT need to let go of escapistic fantasies and come back down to earth. the meaning of this phrase also is "to start becoming comfortable in a new situation"

• “parachute” = it probably references something that represents a "saviour" for TXT during their harsh return to reality, it could be Moa and the Star 🤔

• “loadstar” = the STAR they need to light up again rembering their promise song and singing it together, also pretty sure the it's the title track name or part of it 😧 looks like they weren't fooling us in the end with the signs on the beach pic from Temptation-Farewell 🤡👍

• “dive” also written as "•Di♡E!•" in the black&white running-in-the-rain group pic = could be a track name, perhaps referencing Lo$er=Lo♡er 😮!!

• “rags rags rags” = could be the remains of TXT's inner selves after not having Neverland/Magic Island anymore 🤔

• "lost of found " = TXT lost themselves at Neverland and when they forgot their true names as children, but are now going to find themselves again once they remember them.

• " Running Instead of crying" = TXT shouldn't cry mourning Neverland (but focus on what's ahead of them instead and run towards it ?)

• "kicking tomorrow kicking" = they need to hold on, accept that tomorrow is coming, keep going and keep fighting

• "stand tall, walk tall, stand still" = they should be proud and confident of who they are but ? stay the same ? 🤔

• "one dream" = TXT's motto, they need to remember what they are really fighting for and what's truly their goal

• "in dreams begin responsibility" = if TXT dream to turn the world into a brighter place again, where people believe in their dreams, through awakening the Star, they have to take responsibility for it.

This should be all but if you notice i missed something feel free to point it out <3

Now let's focus on the store behind TXT in the group pictures! Credits to @/txtbook on twitter because i included what they wrote as well.

The shop is called LOADSTAR and it's in the building 304... remember the train also called 304 that previously showed TXT memories and predictions? The shop offers repairings for VCRs 👀

@/txtbook:

(at the shop) they repair the DVD that contains memories and we have the theme of memories & "remembering the name" in txt concept + since the building number is 304 it's great connection to their "start line" aka magic island but now in reality!

Loadstar is a guiding star used in navigation and MOA are always referenced as Stars + morse code was used for txt debut album TDC: STAR & questioning films words (true names?) — (me: yes, their true names👍)

The LoadSTAR shop that also sells music instruments & radio can fix their "melancholy DVD" & give back memories about their start line, dream & magic, music, song of a star 😭

And guess what Beomgyu holds in the CLARITY version? 👀 a video camera

but first let's analyze...

— MELANCHOLY VERSION

On a recent Weverse Live Soobin, Taehyun and Hueningkai opened up about their trainee days, in what conditions they rehearsed in the old basement of the old BigHit building (in 2014-16 -ish if i'm correct) here's a extract:

🐰 when we were in the basement practice room, there was a time when the ventilator wasn’t working…the ventilator was broken, the air conditioner was broken, there as water leaking onto the floor, there was mushroom growing on the floor 🐧 the mushrooms were really… 🐰 and since we’d have dance lessons in that situation for like 8-9 hours, the mirror was barely visible 🐧 because of the humidity 🐰 the mirror would get all fogged up because of the humidity making things barely visible 🐰 so we’d practice and… 🐿️ we used to wipe it down with newspaper 🐰 oh right! we’d all wipe it away with newspaper 🐰 and then we’d open the window for ventilation but leaving the window open in the middle of winter…opening the window when you’re already sweating makes you feel super cold 🐰 so we’d be shivering while trying to get some ventilation in the room 🐰 at that time, i kinda really hated the company, i hated our teachers… 🐰 but when else would we be able to experience something like that? 😅

source

This concept seems reminiscing of that. They were a group of boys working hard for their dream of debuting and making music, holding on despite the hard reality and injustices they had to face everyday.

This concept also features a wolf dog !

we already saw one in Frost mv

Yeonjun's real name is "promise" and the hint for it is "the one who shall not eat dogs"

5:53 is the hour between ‘dog and wolf’ from the French expression "l'heure entre chien et loup", it's the time when you can't distinguish a friend from a foe: it might reference how TXT will have to fight eachother and themselves in the rest of The Name Chapter

— CLARITY VERSION

This concept reminds of TXT abandoning Neverland in the The Name Chapter Concept Trailer. TXT used to travel to Neverland at Blue Hour (the sunset), but they don't go this time: when night comes they are still on earth.

honestly, the first thing that came to my mind when i saw these pictures was the last line from from Dante's Inferno: "E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle", translated "and thence we came forth to see the stars again". After all, Neverland has been hell for TXT, a nightmare dressed as a daydream, and now that they have a clear mind, freed from the temptations, they can see the reality of things again and the real stars, amongst which there's their Star!

If these pictures seem familiar there's a reason...

they are actually a replica of The Dream Chapter: Eternity, Starboard Version.

TXT are in the same exact order: in Can You See Me mv (title track of TDC: Eternity) we saw Beomgyu and Taehyun fighting, and on The Name Chapter Concept Trailer we saw that Beomgyu and Taehyun are the last ones to fight eachother. In addition everyone but Beomgyu is facing to the right: Beomgyu is the last one left after they fight eachother in the concept trailer.

Taehyun stands opposite to Beomgyu and is not holding hands with him = they fight, but let's remember as well what we said about him experiencing the fall back to reality differently from the other members in the Temptation analysis and Freefall predictions. That is further confirmed by the fact that in the solo pictures for this version everyone is out in the open, while Taehyun is the only one inside a window. The same as Taehyun's boat being the only one flipped around in the Farewell concept.

They also are on a rooftop 👀 like in 0x1lovesong Japanese Version mv, and on the mini posters for this version looks like they are either falling or on the ground after the fall 👇

... but it also could be something else, judging by the colors that remind of the Nightmare concept in Temptation... we'll see 👀

edit: forgot to add that Kai has odd eyes like a certain someone...

Kai is not the cat but has been the most tempted beside Yeonjun by the devil/peter pan/cat because he doesn't want to leave childhood most of all members. We saw him hesitant to leave Neverland at the end of Sugar Rush Ride, and we know his evil doppelgänger (see Frost mv) is going to fight Kai himself and the members (see TNC concept trailer) inside a labyrinth he built (see TNC concept trailer and Run Away mv when Kai draws blue and yellow - like the cat eyes - intertwined circles around the school), he probably was tempted to take over by the devil/cat, that's why the odd eyes.

Also didn't notice that the glass dome that we had in TDC: Eternity, Starboard Version pictures has been shattered by TXT literally - there are glass pieces and metal bars on the ground at their feet in the Clarity pictures - and metaphorically!

TXT broke the barrier that locked them in eternal dream. (@/0X1ZEROBASEONE on twitter/X)

Remember how TXT were surrounded by glass pieces at the end of 0x1lovesong Japanese Version mv too? 👀 It's all coming together.

This is all i have for now! If i need to add more details i'm gonna either edit the post or use a reblog. Thank you for reading <3 see you in the next TXT LORE O'CLOCK 👋 :)

#txt #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #the name chapter: freefall #— txt lore #txt lore #txt storyline #the star seekers

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tryingtimi · 5 months ago

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66 for the spotify wrapped writing game?

Glitter in Your Eyes & Mistletoe Kiss 🎊

Okay, I'm sorry this is another convoluted post. First off, thank you so much for the prompt! I combined this one with two things from this prompt list too: Mistletoe Kiss and Glitter in Your Eyes. Also I love this song so much, and even tho it was a Cronlyn one for a long time, it fit perfectly for Liahn x Yune too. Second, I would like to bring back the mistletoe kiss tag game, so here we go. (look over that i dont have a mistletoe exactly in the story, it counts as one, alright? lol)

Rules from before: If anyone wants to join in and turn this into a mistletoe tag game for the holidays, I’d love to see yall’s OCs kissing under a mistletoe, or your WIPs version of it! Whether in-world or a modern AU version where mistletoes exist. tagging: @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @the-void-writes, @aalinaaaaaa, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @wildswrites, @odysseywritings, @dyrewrites and anyone who wants to join in, take this as a free invitation!

DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | FLUFF | NON-CANON | WC: 1,465

Finely dressed guests mingled in the decorated room as the piano’s slow singing filled it to the brims.

Kil’s fingers brushed the black and white keys so softly, Liahn could not imagine those roughened, scarred knuckles bending to such gentle music if she couldn’t see it. The crowd lingered, swaying to the melody Pheni sang alongside. Red-orange fire crackled quietly in the glittering fireplace, luring some clan members close, their little circle waxing and waning as the cold kept peeking in and out through the window. Outside the snow was falling at a steady pace, a breeze sometimes curious enough to tiptoe inside.

Crystal glasses in hands, the members chattered, chuckled, and smiled at the pair ruling the parlour.

Liahn put down her half-empty glass on the tall table, watching her brother and sister-in-law in content. Pheni’s pomegranate red dress glinted whenever she moved a little closer to Kil, her voice like the first warm touch in the cold afternoon. Liahn’s brother concentrated on the keys, yet a stolen smile found his lips as Pheni put a hand on his shoulder before the next verse.

“They never run out of things up in their sleeves.”

Liahn offered Fang a smile as she joined her by the table. Her white suit flexed over her muscles when she drank the last of her drink, the wine-red shirt under buttoned only enough so her tattoos still could peek through on her neck and chest.

“Never,” Liahn agreed, thinking of all the times she thought her brother could not do something, just to discover he could. Quiet proficiently. “Life is just that unfair, I gathered.”

Fang scoffed, accepting the glass pushed to her by Liahn.

“For life to be unfair, it should need intention, little cub. Life doesn’t care. They’re just restless.” And that was true. Neither Kil, nor Pehni ever stopped before they were the best in their choice of occupation. A match made in the heavens, some said.

The melody invited hums along, subtle, yet enough to feel like a choir. Inseo stood not far from Kil and Pheni, a calm settling on her figure too. Liahn’s father and Inseo had the same solemn expression on their face, yet it lacked any of the distance and cold. They were surrounded by some members, one-two words were exchanged from time to time.

Fehn was nowhere to be seen.

Liahn kept roaming the crowd with her gaze, finding her little sister’s friends around, but not her. Well, she must have had things to do. She was a thornado on feet, after all.

Her eyes kept searching, as they did for a while now.

“Looking for someone?” Fang asked, grimacing after a sip of Liahn’s drink.

“Just looking.”

She didn’t turn to the big woman, a rare kind of warmth sneaking in her cheeks. She could have blamed it on the drink, but she didn’t. It wasn’t a question or a dilemma. A secret, perhaps. Yet not a thought to be banished. Liahn looked from member to member, slowly, and privately. Soft smiles, and suits, beautifully tailored dresses and stolen touches. Many faces, decorated green life, candles and hanging lights, yet nothing.

Liahn’s eyes met Kil’s as he looked to the side. His smile turned, the signature — and infuriating — confidence shining through a half-curve. He lifted his brows, then nodded to the left with his chin.

As the music became louder by the constantly joining hums, the door on Lianh’s left opened. A chilling breeze slipped inside, eager and giddy with snowflakes. Liahn pulled her half-burgundy, half-white jacket tighter a bit, but her grip lightened when she looked to the side.

Fehn stepped inside, flashing teeth by the curve on her painted lips.

And behind her, Yune came.

Their thick dresses shimmered and swirled around their form as they closed the door, giggling while trying to brush away the melting snowflakes. Yune’s hair straightened where the drops touched her curled locks. Her face was powdered, lips blushing from paint. Their eyes met, and Liahn couldn’t take her gaze from the rare sight of charcoal strokes over the round edges of Yune’s sight. The brown of her irises glinted like the lacquered wood of the room.

“That took you long enough, baby cub,” Fang mused as she handed Yune Liahn’s drink. “But you look nice, niece.”

“Thank you.”

Yune smiled, and Liahn noticed some sparkling freckles on her cheeks.

“A good work needs time, Fang, and besides, you’re really going to praise only her for it? That’s just cruel.” Fehn twirled to the gathering, not stomping away, but Liahn could see her face slightly puffing as she huffed through her short walk.

Fang chuckled, flashing a silver teeth. “She’s in her element.”

“She’s excited. Everyone wears her and Pheni’s handiwork, after all.”

Yune gravitated towards the table. She didn’t seem to think twice before she settled on the side closest to Liahn, her thawing skin radiating a subtle kind of cold. There was a glitter in her eye, that Liahn couldn’t put anywhere.

Yet, she found it fit her. The same swirl of glitter was left in Fehn’s wake as well.

Yune’s skin prickled with goosebumps on her arm. The room had a nice temperature, yet the opened door left a lingering chill around the table.

Liahn placed her jacket over Yune’s shoulders. “We can go over the fireplace.”

“You should, go and warm up. I’ll make peace with little cub in the meantime.” And with that Fang strolled over the other side, leaving the two women to themselves.

“I’m fine,” Yune said, smiling and never breaking the eye contact. She thanked the jacket with a subtle bow, the glitter dancing on her face and hair.

“I know.”

Still, Liahn put a gentle hand on Yune’s back to show her the way. Kil and Pheni finished their song, and the applause swallowed Yune’s darling scoff. She let herself guide to the dressed-up fireplace, the brick already warming their body from a fair distance.

Liahn clapped alongside the crowd, but she kept her eyes in the corner — at Yune. “You’re beautiful.”

People gathered around Kil and Pheni, and then some surrounded Fehn and Fang, congratulating the youngest for her tailoring work. The gathering sprinkled into small groups, all closing their circle. No one looked Liahn’s way for now.

Yune’s eyes crinkled from the widening smile. “So do you. Red always suited you.”

“It did?” she asked, then gently pulled her glass out of Yune’s fingers. “I didn’t know. And this was mine, so believe me, I’m doing you a favour.”

Liahn poured the contents out the open window.

“Well then, aren’t you my hero?” Yune teased, linking her arm to Liahn’s. From so little a distance, she could finally see. The frackles from earlier, and the sparkling of her eyes were all glitter. A twinkling touch that turned Yune into a fallen star. She smiled up at Liahn with that glint in her eyes.

Liahn couldn’t help but bring a hand to Yune’s cheeks, her palm soft against the shimmering skin.

“You glitter.” It wasn’t a question or a statement. It was a wonder. Amusement — to see what she always did whenever she lay eyes on Yune. The stars, the moon, the sun. Light, that shone bright enough to warm you to the bones.

Yune leaned into the touch. “Fehn accidentally knocked over the whole bottle.”

“A mad little genius, this Fehn.”

The room seemed to quiet around them as they kept staring at each other, Liahn’s eyes roaming every spark, and every corner of Yune’s face. She brushed and knew the contours by heart, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off. Her thumb moved almost on its own, brushing under Yune’s blushing lips.

The heat licked Liahn’s back, when she leaned over eventually.

She kissed off the tint from Yune’s lips, the sweet, yet sour taste foreign on her tongue. Yune moulded into her front, one hand softly pulling on Liahn’s shirt. It was to hold onto something, anything, or else she would crumble. Liahn knew because her fingers did the same on Yune’s chin, and shoulder. Their kiss was a short one, but it echoed in their chest even when they parted.

As Liahn opened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Kil way behind Yune, amidst the clueless crowd. He smiled enough so his eyes disappeared, then lifted his glass a touch, toasting at them silently.

#Project Sasin #Hora Liahn #Hora Fehn #Grey Fang #Lin Yune #Hora Kilto #writeblr #writing community #mistletoe kiss tag game #idk man im just excited to see if anyone will join #cuz i loved that one time we did it lmaooo #lesbian #Liahn x Yune #wanna see those OCs heads bump #allthatthawsinthecold

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