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iwaasfairy · 2 years ago

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┌─ “ ! „ FLIGHTY

tw. uncle!satoru, incest, age gap, breeding, coercion, dirty talk, praise, brief choking, baby as pet name, some jealousy, degradation, corruption kink, sneaking around wordcount. 6.7k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the amazing @antique-remains ♡ thank you so so much for commissioning me and for being absolutely wonderful!! i really hope you enjoy your fic,, i had a blast writing it so i kinda went a little crazy with the word count but! hgdfsy listen i hear gojo satoru i jump into the deep end i hooopppee you enjoy it lovely!!! <33 and thanks a million to the beta readers ilY so much

gojo satoru x fem!reader

The door rattles with a loud noise as you make it two steps down the hall. Two whole steps before long arms wrap under your shoulders and you’re whirled around against an equally lanky body, while your giggles fill the hall. They echo down the old family house, pristine and proper, and give your mother a well deserved moment of rest as she rolls the suitcases inside. “Hey- There’s my favorite little squirt,” his lithe voice hums gleefully when you press a childishly sloppy peck onto his cheek and squish your face to his shoulder, and Satoru barely bothers to give your mom a quick smile before stealing your entire attention away and putting you into his neck with a smile.

“You gotta visit more frequently, nee-san. I gotta show my favorite niece what I’ve learned at monster school, don’t I?”

Your chubby cheeks glow hot as you parrot him. “Monster!”

“Your only niece. And you’re more than welcome to take a few babysitting shifts, Satoru. Lord knows I could use it,” the soft-spoken woman would then chuckle, and leave you to it.

That’s how it was, always. You remember finding the days where snow stuck to the ground and made the house feel so much toastier, the most lovely of all- no excuses, no exceptions. Not that you could give a reason as to why, back then. It was probably because winter meant family time and holidays and presents, and most of all, it meant packing everything up into the car and driving down for New Years. Without fail, a white winter meant Gojo Satoru — and without fail, you’d look towards him like a world faithfully orbits the sun.

You can’t thank Satoru enough for taking his role so gracefully, at the time. When it was still fun.

Now winter means being locked up in your room while that same man parades around a different princess each year, and makes your start to the new entirely unenjoyable. After a good few hours of hearing the drinking and talking grow louder and louder -and then eventually quieter again, you finally dare peak your head around the corner. Because if you’re lucky, uncle Satoru will have no self-control. And the copious amounts of alcohol that festivities require will leave him blissfully unaware of your scowl at the foreign pair of shoes by the door. Your bare feet pad on the floor as you make your way past the soft rumble of the tv, and into the kitchen to pop open your own box of cake, and another bottle of bubbles for yourself.

The frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth three bites in, and makes everything a lot more palatable. The smell of the obnoxious festive scented candles, the deep beats of the slow make-out music reverberating through the walls of his otherwise impeccable apartment. The knowledge that you’re meant to wait out the inevitable turnaround from festive cheer to loud moans down the hall as the countdown hits 0. It’s been this way for years now, and you find yourself wishing spring would come a little faster.

You’d never be so lucky, though. You drop the fork in surprise when long fingers sneak around your neck to squeeze gently at the soft parts of it, and a breath brushes over the shell of your ear. “Boo.” Festive cheer and a softer familiar musk overtakes your senses.

“Satoru, you dick,” you squeak out a little too loudly, halfway to turning when a strong arm wraps around your hips to allow him to slot a little closer to your back. He peers over your head at the cake, breath dusting over your hair. Uncaring, of course, about the level of appropriateness or the way it sends a shiver up your spine.

“Bit early for a late night snack, isn’t it? You could at least have asked your favorite authority figure to join you.” His smile gleams in the low light of the apartment like a million diamonds, white head of hair tousled and bed-head like. The hand on your hip squeezes ever so softly before you shake him off, and cross your arms over your chest in defiance.

“You’re barely an authority, let alone my favorite. Besides, aren’t you kept busy with… Keiko? Kyoko?”

“—Kimiko. Why?” It’s then you make the mistake of looking up into those perfect baby blues through the half-tinted shades, and despite your earlier frostiness, he still searches for a handhold on your shoulder, softly brushing his thumb along the collar of your shirt. He stares like he can see through you, where your heart beats wildly in your chest. You’d dare bet money that sometimes he definitely tries to. But the calculating glances that flick over your face are kept quiet by a faint hum.

“She’s gone home. I thought maybe we could celebrate New Years together this time.” Satoru is always smiling. It crinkles his eyes, seems to ooze out of him like syrup. He’s good at that. At feeling trustworthy. But— “We still have a good twenty minutes until the fireworks. Come celebrate. For me?” There’s no mistaking the way he leans in to nudge your face up and puts on an exaggerated puppy-like pout. Gojo Satoru is anything but trustworthy.

But hard lessons are slow to stick. You find your mouth opening almost like instinct, sugar-coated tongue running over your lips as he waits. “Fine, until after the fireworks. Only ‘til then.” His mouth corners go a little more cat-like when the grin grows further, and he rubs his heavy palm and long fingers over your head with a soft chuckle.

“Right? You’d never leave your poor old, lonely uncle Satoru alone on a special day, right?”

The couch is abandoned for a slower sort of swinging around the living room once the clock starts getting close, and Satoru places another flute of golden bubbles into your hand— grinning as you move to the beat. Try and resist as you may, Satoru has given you much to be thankful for. The heat of his hand back on your head distracts you from the way the drink goes down too quickly, letting him pick your hand into his to pull you closer. “Have you ever slow danced before, pretty girl?”

You don’t get to say anything before you’re in his arms, hands to his chest and quickly sliding down to wrap around him instead, swallowing down the stirring heat that hits when he chuckles. You must be crazy. Must be. Your heart feels like it’s banging in your throat. But Satoru rests his chin on your head into the embrace, and swallows you up into his arms. And your throat burns like a raging fire yet again. It isn’t like that. It isn’t like that. You’re the one making it weird, and you know it. But you can’t help the goosebumps when he presses a kiss to your crown, or when he pauses to look down at you.

Grinning like he’s got the world in his palm, he leans in to almost brush noses with you. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Gojo Satoru,” you immediately feel the warmth flare up on your cheeks and ears, eyes going wide. But the grin is back instantly, and he chuckles.

“Alright, don’t get your panties into a twist.” The air of his breaths dusts over your nose when he stares, and doesn’t look away. “You’re so obvious when you want something. It’s cute.” He’s awfully, disturbingly pretty. However weird it is to notice that about your own mom’s brother… you never were able to lie yourself out of that conclusion.

The clock ticks loudly, counting down. But you can’t tear yourself away, blinking blankly at the way he gives your face a once over, before those eyes find yours. Glittering brilliantly, pulling at your sanity. You did always adore him. The first few fireworks go off loud in the distance, when your own uncle Satoru dips down and kisses you. You freeze. Warm lips and tongue pressing into your mouth- he full-on kisses you and runs a hand along your neck to pull you into him. A muffled squeak makes it’s way out of you, warm tongue getting to taste all of him. You- you don’t stop it. When he pulls back, his mouth lingers over yours, and that devilish mouth whispers, “happy New Year, baby,” without any ‘sorry’s.

The flowers are already starting to bloom in the colorful pots that swing outside the windows when you nurse your own cup of tea, and don’t bother lowering your eyes when bright azures meet your gaze. There’s something there that tingles your tongue, faint memories biting at your conscious, but too swift to grab hold of. You can’t read him anymore. It makes the familiar glint in them feel anxiety inducing. The gaze shifts, and you feel your spine relax. All tall, perfect, unfairly casual grandeur of him goes back to entertaining your cousins and Megumi— and your attention is finally allowed to shift back to your mom.

“Deary me… That child seems like he’ll never grow up,” she softly chimes, turning your way to take your hands, “I bet you’re twice the adult he is.” Her slight frown is one of fondness though, of care and concern; all of which only makes your stomach drop further. Your mom’s so enamored with her tight-knit little dream of a family. She’s completely unaware, too. Of the deadly, treacherous words that your mind whispers to you when it knows no one’s watching. Your mother’s warm smile remains. “If you ever decide you can’t keep up with him anymore, you’re more than welcome to move back home, honey.”

“I know, mom— but I like Tokyo. I like my friends here, and- my job’s here, and I like my job.” Her hand makes an encouraging circle over the back of your hand, and she nods.

Her warm smile doesn’t keep away the cold flare that travels down your back though. “And you also like Satoru, for reasons I still can’t wrap my head around.” Her look over in his direction has you resolutely studying your lap instead, as heat travels back from your chest to your face. “Even when you were little, your uncle ‘Toru could do no wrong. It was infuriating at times…” You try to put on a smile when you feel her eyes return back to you, and let the cup bear the brunt force of your anxiety. “Now I just think it’s sweet. I know I couldn’t deal with his antics anymore, for even a few days.”

“He’s…” You trail off before you can even get started, and let your tongue swipe along your bottom lip to get rid of the pesky memory again. You feel like your moral compass has been compromised. Your stupid little crush was meant to go unacknowledged, and fade. No one was supposed to be any the wiser. Satoru was never meant to do wrong. He’s -what- exactly, you try to ask yourself. Sneaky? Childish? The reason you can’t look your own family in the eye without blushing like a schoolgirl?

Your heart blooms when you catch a glimpse of his smile as the beer bottle brushes his lips, and he finds your shape again across the room.

Before you get a chance to look away, uncle Satoru’s already calling your name again with that sing-songy tone that’s got you hooked; and pulls you out of your seat with a few slow blinks. “There’s my favorite girl.” He swings an arm over your shoulders, and invades your senses yet again. “It’s getting a little too stuffy in here for your liking, hm? Mind if I steal her for a while?” His sister barely gives him the tiniest of eyerolls before waving you both off. And the white-haired force of nature doesn’t even stop to ask you. He knows he’s right.

Before long, the glances of family get captured by other things, and the honorary member of your family gives you a knowing look that you mirror. Not that Satoru would let it stop him if he saw. You only just look away from Megumi’s grimace before you freeze into place. There’s the tiniest of kisses to the skin behind your ear where Satoru whispers in your ear. “I was really missing you, baby.” There’s a heat that spreads all over you as he continues, barely hiding his affections. “Whenever I see you… I just wanna…”

Your eyes go wide when you turn to stare at him, then quickly around at the rest of the guests. Luckily, everyone seems too preoccupied to notice the way he wraps his arm around your waist to steer you towards the front door. “What? I wasn’t done.” he chimes, eyes glinting over like the Chesire cat, “I wanna come annoy you, is what I was going to say.” Alarm bells should go off. You want them to signal your disaster. But no such thing happens, and the way his lips almost drag over your pulse makes your entire body feel like you’re filled with static. “You know uncle Satoru loves you. Step out with me for a bit.”

The miserable drum of rain has no way of drowning out the thoughts in your head. A heat-caused thunderstorm should just be a minor inconvenience, but it feels awfully telling about your current state. The string of messages of Satoru’s latest -what you can now assume is- ex blink back at you as you check the time again, and sink deeper into the couch. The apartment always feels a little too cold when you’re here alone. And sure, you’ve been living here too, but you’ve been on your very best behavior all this time. Taking up only the space he was willing to give.

So you sit in silence as the room gets darker and darker, and instead of checking up on work mails, you let the icy silence of the apartment sit beside you. The messages weren’t exactly frantic, but— the door clicks softly across the room, and the pitter patter of the rain on the skylight grows even more impatient. “Uncle ‘Toru,” you breathe as he drags his wet self in, only to suck your bottom lip into your mouth.

There’s only a few times you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing him like this. One was the first summer his best friend vanished into thin air, a shallow copy of your beloved left behind in its wake— and every few years after that. It drains all the color out of him, squeezes until there’s nothing left.

He looks drunk. He smells drunk too. But you still cross your arms and straighten your back, swallowing. “Ki-chan was worried about you. She says you two broke-”

“She’s right.” Satoru drops his bag by the tv, and unceremoniously kicks off his socks in the middle of the living room, slauntering towards the couch.

“Is that why you’re like this?” Your worry is undermined by a harsh snort and an equally unamused chuckle, before the white-haired man comes to a halt before you.

“Don’t be stupid. You and I both know it’s not.” His eyes are usually like the ocean on a summer day, bright, all-consuming, and peaceful— there’s nothing there when they land on you now. Just the dark, dreary image of a cloudy, uncaring vastness. “Get up, I’m trying to sleep here for the night.”

“I’m not leaving.” You’re not sure if the slight tremble in your voice is self-inflicted, but do your best to bite through the electric tension. “She also said that you’ve been saying all kinds of things that make no sense. Things about— me. And that’s why you guys broke up. She’s worried that you might try to do something to me.” Gojo Satoru is a lot of things. More things than a man with his constitution should be, all in all. Your light breath cuts the tension just enough for you to speak up again, staring up at him from your increasingly vulnerable position on the couch. “Well, will you?”

“Get up.” Before you have another chance to ask more, he takes you by the arm and pulls you up out of the couch in a split second, leaving you stumbling back. “Run off to your room now.” Smart, coherent thoughts leave you. Satoru looks like he’s hurting. Those long, white lashes and blue irises are no longer bright and understanding. They frame a simple look of distaste at the sight of you, and your rapid heartbeat falters. “I said, now.” As your tongue brushes your lips you search for something— anything— to say, but it seems he doesn’t want to let you. With large steps, he walks you back by your collar until your back hits the wall, and you stare up at him.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I already want you? What more do you need?” The cold, still wet touch of his thumb brushing your collarbones tingles down your entire body. “Tell me off. Hit me. Do something.” He’s basically begging now, through hard glares, teeth and a raspy voice. “Tell me off for treating you like this.”

You think you should. But all that you manage to say is a soft plea, eyes searching in the dark. “Uncle Satoru, I- I’m sorry.”

“Baby.”

His grip makes your shirt dig uncomfortably into your neck, but you barely feel it. Instead you raise your hands to cup his face, watching how the furrowed brows straighten out after only a few tight breaths. You mumble out a breath of his name, and allow him to pull you closer to his body until you’re pressed to his chest, face hidden against his collarbones. Until he leads you to look up at him and lets his lips brush over your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. “Your mom would kill me if she knew.”

You know him to be right. And still, you let his mouth meet yours. Meet and claim your tongue, hiking your one thigh up to allow him to melt against you. Rolling his narrow hips just a little too effectively against you. It’s way too much all at once, hot and cold meeting in the dark where his body grinds against you. You shouldn’t… allow any of this, right? But it feels too good to stop. Satoru clearly thinks so too when he grunts your name against your mouth, and his crotch rubs into your center.

It’s not hard to know what he’s thinking about as he drags his lips down the soft of your throat and sucks kisses into the skin. His strong fingers slide under your shirt to anchor at your waist, and leave goosebumps all over. “My pretty girl,” he ends up mumbling as his tongue makes shapes at the base of your throat, “you’re all mine. All fucking mine. Mh- never gonna let anyone have you.” It feels so good. Hearing that, however distorted by the moment— makes you feel like you’re floating. So much so, that it scares you. To think anyone would have such power over you.

Satoru goes in for another kiss, but you end up sliding out of his arms by mere chance, panting and shivering from the wet hands all over you. You take one single deep breath, and rush off down the hall.

When you sit at dinner the next day, rolling your veggies around your plate as you cast him weary glances from under long lashes, Satoru doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even blink out of place once, like the night before was just a dream. You’d really believe the slight ache of a hickey at the base of your throat to be an unlucky bruise, if you couldn’t notice the faint glances your way. After a while, his telltale grin slips back on when you startle at his voice, and he points his fork towards you. “You’re acting weird, you know that?”

“I- I’m acting weird?” Your voice pitches up almost comically, and his gleeful chuckle has your heart racing despite yourself. “W- about yesterday-”

“I’m taking you somewhere tonight.” Though the interruption should annoy you, he looks so content and smug as he stuffs the last of his food into his cheek, that you can only frown. His hand runs through his mess of white hair, noisily smacking his food as if to make a point. When you don’t immediately respond, he nods to himself, before leaning in. “I woke up with the worst headache of my life, I’ll have you know. But I’ve gotten over myself, I promise. And now I just want to hang out with my favorite niece.”

“Only niece,” you end up parroting, clenching and unclenching your hands into your skirt. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Call me ‘uncle ‘Toru’ again, and I’ll tell you.” You never tell him no.

As you walk through the hall with slow steps, the light falls like broken petals through the paper walls and casts everything in a hazy glow. For all your protests, uncle Satoru follows close behind, chirping all kinds of encouragements, giggling most of the way through. The lazy patterns he draws on your shoulders with his thumbs, or the brief brushes of his nose along your cheek, kisses behind your jaw— it all should make you feel a lot guiltier than it does. Instead you’re just wound up, skin tingling with every touch the longer it lasts.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re here now?”

He hums that melodic agreement, before pointing you towards the rather familiar door at the right. “If you go in there, I will.” At your slight frown, he only presses on. “I promise. Come on, trust your favorite uncle.”

“You’re not my favorite.”

His voice grows low as his lips brush your ear, and those strong arms start gliding down the sides of your back. “Liar.” The kiss that is pressed to your pulse is slower this time, humming in your throat and making you swallow your words. His mind hasn’t changed after you ran out. Instead of focusing on that- on him, you reach for the door and slide it open, finding your and Satoru’s room barely changed at all. His hands come to press at the sides of your hips, long fingers trekking all over the skin he can reach. “I’ve been thinking for a while now…” His playful voice dips a little lower, and your breathing grows slower and slower. “I always meant it when I said you were my favorite... but-”

“But it’s a little different now, hm, pretty girl? When did you change so much?” Those hands that start sliding up along your thighs to hike your skirt up to your belly, and though you try to keep it down with a little breath, he denies it. “You don’t like it? That I wanna see all of you?” The little hum to your soft throat makes you feel like you’re charged to the brim, crackling each time he moves. It’s unbearable, and yet, you couldn’t move a muscle if you tried. “Tell me that I’m a bad guy.”

You can’t focus on anything. His nimble fingers toy with the edge of your panties, and the puff of his breath sends a shiver down your neck. “W-why’d you take me to our old- ah- place?” Satoru doesn’t wait for you to catch up before the frilly fabric drags along your thighs. Your awfully wet underwear lands around your feet, and he leans in to nudge your face to his. Kissing you over your shoulder as his body covers you from behind, and his waist pushes up against you. His tongue steals your attention away from his hands just long enough to lose track of them before they’re on your tits, squeezing them and making your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Because I wanted to prove something.” He rolls his clothed waist against your ass and makes that awful feeling even worse, forcing a whimper out of you. And that mind-numbing fucking laughter returns before his hands start moving to your center. You’re not sure if you want to push him away or ride his fingers with the slow drag of rough fingertips along the inside of your legs— not that it’s up to you anyway. “You’re no longer that good girl that’d idolize uncle Satoru, right? You’ve started thinking about other things when I’m around, hm?”

Fingers slide through the embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs with another noise from him, pressing his hardening cock harder against you and grinding it against you- and you have to fight the urge to just get face down on the floor for him. “F-fuck, baby, you’re already dripping all over my hand. Does uncle ‘Toru turn you on?” Two prodding digits slide into your clenching hole as he grins against your cheek, and his free hand meanly pinches a nipple. “C’mon, tell me. Tell me how much you like me.”

“Mh-ack, I- li-like you.” He goes to pull his hand back but you reach for it, and push it back inside to have his hand palm rubbing up against your clit. “A lot, I like you a lot! Please.” The curl of his long fingers inside you is enough to have you shaking, leaning back against his chest with one shoulder, and hanging onto his wrist. It doesn’t take much to have him smiling into the hickey he’s sucking under your jaw, and fighting back your resistance just enough to start pushing another finger inside. The slight ache is almost instantly replaced with the pleasure of having your clenching pussy filled so full. Everything blurs a little when you reach back for him for support, and his strong hand fucks smoothly in and out of you. “Mhm, ah, ah, I love my uncle Satoru. Sa. To. Ru.” Slick runs down your leg and makes his entire hand sticky, and he hums in agreement.

“That’s a good little niece. Love riding my fingers like this? You’re shaking, baby.” He knows what it does to you, must’ve known for a while, when his voice is pressed to your skin— it leaves you a mess. You try to respond, but your tongue gets all tangled, and you can only whimper and nod as his fingers fuck right into the spot you need them to. Your back curls against him as your legs get shakier, and your poor clit is grinded against his palm until you can’t focus on anything else. It feels so good. Good, good, good, good~ You want to keep riding his fingers forever.

“Lay down for me,” he rasps when you really start rubbing back against his hand, pussy so messy and full and your lips glossy with spit— and you almost cry when he starts pulling back.

“No, no no nonono, uncle Satoru, please. I’m close,” you squeak, only to allow him to push you down by your shoulder and watch as he slots his fingers between pink lips. “Hm- I- can I cum? Please?” Your thighs rub together as you lay down, and Satoru kneels before you to pry them open wide enough to fit his shoulders between.

“Shh, lift your ass,” he quickly chants, getting comfortable between your legs as his hands pry you open, “let me taste my favorite pussy the way I want.” His devilish mouth is on you before you can register it, hot and instantly too much. Your puffy clit is laved in licks and sucks that hit the spot just right, and every nerve end fires in a way that no one else could ever accomplish. His hums and the brilliant glint of his eyes as he watches you tear up and moan, lifting your ass closer to his face as his tongue licks and fucks your dripping pussy. He laughs when eating you out so good your eyes cross, before latching his mouth around your overstimulated nub for real, and sucking the light out of your vision.

Your legs shake before you’re clenching them around his head with a long, high-pitches whimper and a string of moans that roll through your body— and Satoru just keeps going, until you’re twitching and you try to push him away. Your breathing is rapid and shallow as you blink the black spots on your vision away and loosen the grip you have on his hair, but your legs still shake as he brushes his thumb over your pussy without pity. “That’s one. Wanna see how many more I can get you to?”

“No,” you immediately squeak, making his smug grin grow even wider. “I wanna… first, wanna have you- i-inside.” Admitting it is different than thinking it. And you’ve thought it, too much to count- but it still heats your cheeks and ears upon seeing the way Satoru’s lashes flutter a little, and he pushes his pants down to take his flushed cock out.

“Yeah? You want your uncle Satoru’s big cock inside you?” His hand wraps around his thick length with a little hiss, sliding his hand over the swollen, dark pink tip as you watch. “Say it properly, and I’ll give it to you.” You roll onto your side to yank your shirt up over your tits, and impatiently shake your ass as you whine out a noise that barely seems to register as you. But you can’t help it. The buzz from your orgasm only made your belly hotter, slicking up your legs and ass and dripping for him- as he sits up on his knees so slide his pants down further.

“Satoru~ please.” His hand moves up and down a few times as he raises a brow, and knocks away your hand when you try to touch yourself. “Please, please, puh-lease~” Your voice cracks when you lay back instead, and knead your tit as you try to pull him closer by wrapping your legs around him. “I want to have- uncle ‘Toru’s cock. I want to have my own uncle’s cock, I love my uncle- and I want- to be his personal pussy to use~” Tears spring up in the corners of your eyes, so you close them. “Now please just put it in. I’ve waited long enough-”

A little chuckle breaks up your begging before he kisses you deep and greedily, and suddenly the hot head of his cock pushes up against your sopping entrance. “Want it so bad you gotta cry about it? Poor baby.” He just about pushes in the slightest bit, and takes a slow breath to stare into your eyes. Pretty. So fucking pretty, all of him. “Sorry I made you wait. Uncle will fill this little niece's pussy up, don’t worry.” Then he pushes in with a slow press on your tummy that makes you blink back tears, as his heavy, hot cock breaks you open a little further, along with your sanity.

The smack when he bottoms out is a brief relief, before he pulls back and uses those strong legs to start really fucking into you, nose to nose. “Letting your own family fuck your greedy pussy like this, look at you. I’m a bad influence, hm?” The weight of him, the brushing of his pelvic bone to your clit, the grip on your thigh and brushing of your tits and every brief brush of his lips over yours is enough to have that coil pull back so tight in your stomach too quickly. You dig your nails into his muscular back as each pap of his balls smacking against your slick-covered ass rings out in the room, and the white-haired man hums. “Uncle Satoru’s your favorite, say it. That you’ll beg for my cock until you go hoarse.”

He presses his nose to your temple, and pants against you- fucking with a rhythm that’s taking the breath out of you. You’re already going to cum again. “Say that you want uncle Satoru’s kids filling up your belly, ahg- go on— mhm, that tight, t-tight fucking pussy.”

“Yes, yes, I want my uncle’s cum inside! My favorite uncle’s ruining my pussy!” you squeak, and then cry out against his neck. “I’m gonna cum again, uncle ‘Toru. G-gonna- agh-ughn- p-please don’t stop.” The thrusts get even deeper if that’s at all possible, lifting your one leg up to grind the head of his cock against your cervix with the position he’s got you in, and goes to cup your pussy. And even that slight touch is enough to have your vision going black and white, head blanking as another orgasm rolls over you and locks your leg around his hips— but the fucking doesn’t stop even then. “Agh-mygodI-ah, ahgh-nh. Uncle Satoru.”

It’s too much, you’re entirely too hot and sweat is rolling down your temple and his chest, but his cock still drives home over and over again like he’s willing to break you in half. You don’t want him to ever stop. “Hearing that filth coming out of your mouth- ugh, mhm, makes me want to keep fucking you forever. For eternity.” His waist bumps your overstimulated clit each time he bottoms out, ring of white around the base of his cock before he throws his head back and moans out your name. “You can’t ever let anyone know how much uncle Satoru loves fucking his little niece, okay? F-fuck. How much I love ruining that little attitude of yours.”

Your both knees are pushes to your shoulders as he moves up, pulling out just a second to fuck between the sloppy lips of your pussy. “Been wanting to fuck you since you moved in. Can’t help but get hard when you’re around. Bad uncle ‘Toru, right?” The head of his cock is so swollen and flushed and dripping with your mixed juices, and he stares at you through narrowed, perfect eyes as he pushes back in and watches his cock disappear into the hot clutch of your pussy, swallowing it up like a whore. His lip is pulled between his teeth as he groans, and fucks harder and faster into you like you’re barely a toy. “But I don’t care. Uncle’s gonna fuck this pussy every day from now on. My pussy. Mine.”

You can feel him in your throat with the way he pounds your pussy until you’re raw, squeezing your throat between his long fingers as his heavy balls hit you. And his mouth covers yours, tongues back together and spit messily covering your chin by the end of it. You don’t think eternity will be enough.

There’s some kind of failsafe inside every human, isn’t there? And yours is simply malfunctioning at the wrong times.

The woman hanging off his arm is lovely. Mina, you think it is. She’s smart and pretty and accomplished, and her hair has that perfect commercial shine as it bounces around her shoulders. And Satoru is laying on the sweetness thick, from what you can make out between the giggles and shiny smiles. Underneath the obnoxious shades hiding his pearly gaze from direct view as he makes quick work of scanning the beach. It sits in your stomach with an uncomfortable rumble. Even though you know… It’s for show. It’s all just for show.

You do your best not to frown when he looks back over his shoulder for a second to drag his eyes over you. “We should play beach volleyball!”

And a soft chuckle from the person by your side agrees when you can’t be bothered to. “You got it!” The blond is smart enough to give you a softly encouraging grin that makes you feel vindicated in your exasperation, before you stick up your own thumb. You have no intention of watching Satoru leave hot handprints all over her skin. The young man beside you clearly notices your hesitation, because he smoothes a palm down your spine to straighten you up a little, before blowing out a long breath that makes you smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll keep him busy if you’d rather lay in the shade for a little longer.”

Kenji’s fingers softly brush along the small of your back, then teasingly slips them under the knot of your bikini, as his mouth comes to hover over your ear. “Or we could sneak away for a little bit and…”

“And get caught for indecent exposure?” you giggle over your shoulder instead of letting him kiss you, and grab for one of the books that had gone untouched earlier in the day to tap it on his head. “We can’t,” you breathe with a smile, and watch as he takes that as a challenge. Really, you’re not one for fighting fire with fire. That’s Satoru’s play, and you don’t have any intention of mistreating anyone. But … the adoring gazes and personal attention does make the whole ordeal a lot easier to stomach. So easy even, that you’re down in the toasty sand with him above and your chest rising and falling rapidly for a few blissful seconds, before the volleyball hits the both of you on the sides.

Your eyes snap over to the head of white hair when he clears his throat, and holds his hands up in mock apology. Serene, picture-perfect smile plastered on his handsome face. You click your tongue, and you can’t hold back the angry echo of his name in your head as he walks up. “Sorry, sorry, my bad! You guys coming or what?” This whole song and dance is just— so frustrating. Despite your best effort to keep it in, a slight tick in your brow still makes its way onto your face.

“You guys start without me,” you breathe after a few seconds of staring Satoru down, allowing Kenji to pull you up from the sand to dust you off. “I’m going to go grab the sunscreen and the coolers from the car.” Kenji makes an attempt to stand, but you wave it off in favor of putting some space between you and the tallest as his crystal eyes drill holes through you. “No, I got it. Thanks though.”

By the time Satoru’s “girlfriend” walks up and slips underneath his arm, he raises a brow your way, and the glitter in his eyes makes you convinced that he knows just as well as you do. You do your best to ignore him — them, but you can still feel the sting of him appraising you through those stupid shades. Asshole. You swing your hips as you walk away, kicking up sand every time your slippers bounce up.

At least the short walk allows for a moment to cool off, and collect your thoughts. There’s no sense in getting fed up. He’ll just get home and start cracking jokes like always, pretending like he didn’t do something wrong in the first place. Nevertheless, you allow yourself only a short sigh and admittance of defeat in the little game you play as you click the trunk closed again.

Before you turn and walk into a solid chest, almost scaring you skittering back against the hot surface of the car. Large hands descend on you, one to wrap around your waist and the other covering your mouth- before he leans down further into your space. “So, so grumpy all the time.” Uncle Satoru’s rough handpalm slides down to grab a handful of your ass before he lowers his face to yours into a languid kiss, tongue tasting vaguely like strawberry as he drags it over yours with a hum. “Stop trying to make me jealous.”

“I’m— I’m not! And ‘m not grumpy. I just don’t want to see you,” you end up breathing out, wrapping your arms instinctively around his broad shoulders when those long fingers start toying with your pussy through the awfully flimsy fabric. “Satoruuu~”

His chuckle is matched with the impatient way he rubs two fingers up and down along your slit, and slides his other hand down your smooth stomach to start peeling it all off. “Call me uncle Satoru, c’mon baby. You know what I like.”

You barely have a chance to place your hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he noses your bikini top out of the way to drag his pink tongue languidly over your puffy bud— and those baby blues find you through wispy, white lashes. “Uncle ‘Toru, unc-cle ‘Ru— You’re gonna get us caught.” He sucks part of it into his mouth and leaves a mean mark with his teeth, before grinning.

“Hmm. I don’t care.”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #tw.incest #tw.age gap #tw.breeding #tw.coercion #tw.dark content #tw.creampie #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.gojo

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dilatorywriting · 2 years ago

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

[TAG LIST]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

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twistiraki · 1 year ago

Text

Happy New Year kisses from the Twisted Wonderland Boys

🌹Riddle Rosehearts

The clock struck midnight, and Riddle, a bit flustered, extended a hand. "Would you care to join me for a New Year's celebration, following all the proper protocols, of course?"

You took his hand with a smile, and he led you to a spot where a perfectly arranged display of lights glittered. "I've planned this carefully," he confessed. "For a Happy New Year under the stars."

As the seconds counted down, he looked into your eyes, blushing faintly. "May I?" Riddle asked, seeking permission for a kiss. When you nodded, he closed the gap, his lips soft and warm against yours.

❤️Ace Trappola

As the clock struck twelve, Ace pulled you into a dance with a sly grin. "Why settle for an ordinary New Year's when we can make it extraordinary?" he teased.

In the midst of the lively music, Ace twirled you expertly, creating an atmosphere of playful enchantment. "Hold on, I've got a trick up my sleeve," he chuckled, pulling a coin seemingly out of nowhere and flashing it with a cheeky wink. "Happy New Year, my cherry!"

With a final flourish, he dipped you low, and as the world seemed to freeze, Ace leaned in for a kiss that was as daring and mischievous as the spark in his eyes.

♠️Deuce Spade

Deuce, sporting a faint blush, took your hand and led you away from the bustling crowd. "I, um, thought maybe we could enjoy a quiet moment to welcome the New Year," he stammered.

In a cozy nook, he nervously fiddled with his shirt. "I wanted to express my gratitude for everything," Deuce admitted, his sincerity shining through. "You mean a lot to me."

As the clock ticked down, he mustered the courage to press a soft, heartfelt kiss to your lips. "Happy New Year, Y/N," he whispered. He hesitated for a bit “Can, uhm, can I kiss you again?”.

♣️Trey Clover

Trey found a secluded spot, away from the noise of the festivities. "I've been thinking about this moment all year," he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.

He reached for your hand, his touch sending a warm shiver through you. "Thanks for being by my side," Trey said, his gaze softening.

With the first notes of the New Year's song, he pulled you into a slow dance, his lips brushing against your ear. "Here's to more moments like these," Trey whispered before capturing your lips in a lingering kiss.

♦️Cater Diamond

Cater, brimming with energy, handed you a brightly wrapped box. "Open it when the clock strikes twelve, okay?" he chirped, excitement evident in his voice.

As the countdown began, you unwrapped the box to find party poppers. "Surprise incoming!" Cater declared, popping one, creating a burst of confetti around you both.

"Happy New Year, Y/N!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a peppy dance. In the midst of the celebration, Cater whipped out his phone and snapped a selfie of your kiss, capturing the joy of the moment. "Gotta capture the best moments, right?" he grinned, posting the selfie with the caption: "Starting the year right with the best kiss ever! Hashtag #NewYearMagic"

🦁Leona Kingscholar

Leona, with his laid-back demeanor, found a quiet spot away from the hustle. "Another year, huh? You're persistent," he teased, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You chuckled, and he pulled you into a comfortable embrace. "Not a bad way to end the year," Leona remarked. As the clock struck midnight, he pressed a lazy but affectionate kiss on your lips. "Happy New Year. Don't expect me to get all sentimental, though."

🍩Ruggie Bucchi

Amidst the vibrant explosions of fireworks, Ruggie found a quiet spot with you. He smirked, leaning against a fence, watching the colors light up the night sky. "Not bad, huh? Bet you've never seen anything like this back in your world."

You chuckled, appreciating the cheeky grin on Ruggie's face. As the sky burst into another display of lights, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "Happy New Year, Y/N" he said, surprising you with a gentle kiss. "Let’s do this again next year, whataya say?"

🐺Jack Howl

Jack, standing awkwardly at a distance from the fireworks, couldn't hide his unease. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. "Fireworks, huh? Not my thing, but if you like 'em..."

You nudged him gently, and he managed a small smile. As the explosions lit up the sky, his ears perked up, and you noticed his tail wagging slowly. "I guess... Happy New Year," he mumbled, almost shyly, stealing a quick glance at you before daring to plant a sweet, hesitant kiss on your cheek.

🐙Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, surrounded by the grandeur of the Mostro lounge festivities, tried to maintain his usual confident façade. "Quite the display, wouldn't you say?" he remarked, nervously adjusting his tie.

As the clock struck midnight, Azul handed you a glass of sparkling juice with a shy smile. "To... um, good times and prosperity," he stammered, his eyes softening. When the last firework lit up the sky, he leaned in, hesitating before placing a delicate kiss on your cheek. "Happy New Year, my pearl. May our paths continue to intertwine."

🍄Jade Leech

Jade, with his cunning charm, led you to a secluded area. He observed the fireworks with a calculating look. "Aren't the explosions fascinating? It's almost poetic, the way they mirror the unpredictability of life."

As a particularly loud bang echoed, you flinched, and Jade's expression softened instantly. Without a word, he cupped your face gently, kissing away the surprise. "Happy New Year, my dear," he whispered, his eyes revealing the genuine affection beneath his enigmatic exterior.

👟Floyd Leech

Floyd, with his wild enthusiasm, couldn't contain his excitement as he watched the fireworks next to you. "This is amazing! Humans sure know how to party!" he exclaimed.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer. "Happy New Year, Shrimpy! Let's celebrate under the sea next time!" Floyd chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a wild excitement that only he could muster. As the fireworks reflected in his eyes, you couldn't help but be swept away by the infectious joy of the unhinged yet lovable merman.

🦦Kalim Al-Asim

With boundless energy, Kalim seized your hand, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "Hey, friend! This is gonna be the best New Year ever, you'll see!" Leading you into the heart of the celebration, he grinned, "I've got a good feeling about this year, and I'm so grateful to have you with me!"

As the countdown began, Kalim's excitement reached its peak. "Make a wish with me!" he exclaimed, his eyes filled with hope. The moment the clock struck midnight, Kalim's warm smile turned tender. "Here's to you, to us," he said, pulling you into a heartfelt and genuine kiss, the kind that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

🐍Jamil Viper

Jamil, normally composed, took you aside into the quieter shadows. "The stars are quite beautiful tonight, don't you think?" he remarked, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

His usually stoic expression softened as he admitted, "This year has been...unexpected. I'm glad I had you by my side." The sincerity in his eyes spoke volumes.

When the clock signaled the arrival of the New Year, Jamil leaned in, his lips brushing yours gently. "Here's to more surprises and shared moments," he whispered, a rare smile gracing his face.

🪞Vil Schoenheit

Vil extended his arm with a flourish, his eyes locked onto yours with an unmistakable intensity. "Shall we embrace the beginning of the New Year together?" His voice, silky and confident, hinted at the depth of his admiration.

In a dimly lit corner, Vil's violet eyes bore into yours. "This year has been a canvas of challenges, but your presence has painted it with brilliance," he confessed, a seductive smile gracing his lips.

As the clock ticked down, Vil's fingers delicately traced the contours of your face, his touch leaving a trail of anticipation. He pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a sultry and lingering kiss. "To conquering obstacles together," he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper.

🏹Rook Hunt

Rook swept you into a lively dance under the twinkling lights. "Y/N, my heart's greatest treasure, let's waltz through the New Year with joy in our steps!"

In the midst of the celebration, Rook twirled you around, his eyes ablaze with affection. "Each year with you is a masterpiece, and I'm the luckiest artist to have you as my muse."

As the clock struck midnight, Rook recited a poem, his words painting a vivid picture of love and admiration. "To the one who turns life's mundane into magic, Happy New Year, mon Amour!" he declared before sealing the sentiment with a theatrically romantic kiss.

🍎Epel Felmier

Epel grinned with a touch of shyness as he handed you a wildflower bouquet. "I reckon these flowers ain't as pretty as you, but they're tryin' their best."

In a rustic corner, Epel taking you by the hand, a bashful expression on his face. "This year was full of twists, but it made sense with you around. You're my city lights in the quiet night."

As the countdown began, Epel stood a bit taller, puffing out his chest in an attempt to be manly. "Happy New Year, sugarcube," he drawled with a twinkle in his eye, before surprising you with a gentle, sincere kiss that spoke volumes of his affection.

💀Idia Shroud

In the dim glow of the computer screen, Idia and you were engrossed in a virtual world. "This is the best way to spend New Year's," Idia remarked, his eyes focused on the game. You both laughed and chatted as the clock approached midnight.

Suddenly, Idia paused the game, looking a bit flustered. "I, uh, thought maybe we could take a break from gaming for a moment." He hesitated before leaning in, awkwardly pressing his lips to yours. The digital avatars mirrored the real-life sweetness of the gesture. "Happy New Year, Y/N. Thanks for being a part of my world, both online and offline."

🤖Ortho Shroud

Ortho, with his usual excitement, handed you a small handmade gadget. "I thought this could be a New Year's memory storage device! We can store all our happy moments in it!"

As the clock ticked down, Ortho held your hand, his robotic fingers gently intertwined with yours. "Ready for the first memory?" he grinned. A burst of confetti erupted from the gadget, and he giggled, "Happy New Year, Y/N! Let's make countless memories together!"

🐉Malleus Draconia

Malleus observed the festivities with curiosity, his bright green eyes fixed on the couples sharing New Year's kisses. Intrigued by the tradition, he approached you with a soft smile.

"May I join in this tradition, Y/N?" he asked, his demeanor gentle. When you nodded, he cupped your face in his soft hand, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. The touch of his lips conveyed a depth of emotion, and as he pulled away, he admitted, "I find myself quite smitten by this human tradition. Happy New Year, child of man."

🦇Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia, looking elegant as ever, smiled at you. "Ah, another New Year, my dear. It's not often that I partake in these festivities, but tonight is special because I'm spending it with you."

As the clock neared midnight, he raised a glass in a toast. "To many more shared moments, my dear," he said, his eyes sparkling. Lilia leaned in for a kiss, making the night feel even more magical. "Happy New Year, and may our time together be everlasting."

💤Silver

The soft glow of the moon bathed Silver in a gentle light as he slept peacefully. As the clock struck midnight, you leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Silver's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked in surprise. "Did I miss the countdown?" he mumbled. You shook your head with a smile. He blushed, a genuine sweetness in his voice. "Happy New Year, Y/N. Thank you for being by my side."

⚡Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek, with his boisterous energy, was louder than the fireworks. "Y/N, I'll protect you from anything that comes your way this year!" he declared, standing proudly.

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and, feeling mischievous, leaned in for a quick kiss. Sebek blushed furiously, momentarily flustered. "Human, not in public!" he scolded, but his eyes betrayed a hint of bashful affection. "But, well, Happy New Year, Y/N. Let's make it a great one together."

🔔Rollo Flamme

Rollo, being at the Noble Bell College, found himself longing for your company. He hesitated for a moment before finally deciding to call you.

"Hey, it's me," Rollo mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. "I just wanted to say... Happy New Year, okay? Don't think too much about it!" There was a brief silence before he added, "I'll make sure to spend the next New Year with you, got it?"

As the call ended, you couldn't help but smile at Rollo's charm and the genuine affection in his words.

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trainer-from-unova · 19 days ago

Text

day on the green

𖤐 bandom blog: @princess-lvcifer 𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 edits 𖤐 kofi 𖤐 𝄞 𖤐

ship: eddie munson x f!reader

summary: you travel with your best friend through the country to go to a metal festival in San Francisco with him

a/n: lots of metallica references as usual / i wrote this in summer 2022 / english isn't my first language, sorry if something's weird expressed

cw: fluff, best friends to lovers, sexual and romantic tension, sexual humor, affectionate insults

word count: 12'1k

"______, Eddie's calling," said her mother, entering her room without knocking or asking permission. She was listening to Metallica at full volume and knew she probably wasn't going to hear her.

"I'm coming," she said dropping the magazine she was reading, leaving it at the foot of his bed and getting up from it to go downstairs to where the house phone was. "Hey, what's up?" She wanted to hold back the urge to smile like the lovesick fool she was, since her mother was circling the house like a shark, and she didn't want her to know she liked him, not because she was ashamed of him or because her mother thought he was a bad influence — on the contrary, she and Eddie got along well, she didn't see him as a bad guy, but who would want her mother to know which boy she liked? And on top of that he was a close friend who often went to her house.

"Are you at home?" he asked nervously.

"Can't you see I am, asshole?" She asked now. "What's wrong?"

"Okay, don't move from there, I'm on my way," he said, and hung up.

"You fucking asshole," she whispered to herself, she hated being left wondering, she was worried, but knowing Eddie it wouldn't be serious. The most serious thing that could happen was that he'd get caught smoking or selling weed.

She didn't hear Eddie park his van in front of her house because her music was on full blast, but if it wasn't for that, she would have heard him. She had good hearing and recognised the noise made by the engines of his loved ones' cars. She could also recognise the sound of keys or footsteps as they walked.

What she did hear was the doorbell of the house in the distance. She got out of bed and turned the music down, it was obvious that Eddie was there to tell her something, although she had no idea what, but she'd better be able to hear it loud and clear, she'd listen to her favourite songs loud and clear at any other time.

The door to her room was open, so he didn't ask permission to enter. He was practically at his houss, but he did leave it ajar when he entered.

"What is it?" She asked indignantly as she sat cross-legged on her bed. "You've got me fucking intrigued!"

"Boom," he said, raising his right hand, in which he held a pamphlet. She could clearly see names of rock and metal bands she knew: Scorpions, Ratt, Y&T, Metallica, Rising Force, Victory.... Though his eyes went to her favourite band, Metallica, hardly paying attention to the others, as she didn't care that much about them.

Eddie took off his shoes and sat down on her bed, facing her, also with his legs crossed.

"It's this year's Day on the Green," he said, handing her the sheet, "Saturday 31 August. The next day it's Wham! and some other pop bands I obviously don't want to see. I've always wanted to go. We have to go, I won't take no for an answer."

"18'50$... It's expensive, and in Oakland! How are we going to get there, if we go at all?"

"But it's worth the price! And we can go by bus, or by plane, or in my caravan... Yeah, I think my caravan would be better. Think about it, you and me, travelling around the country in a caravan, listening to our favourite songs and shouting them out, and then listening to them played live by their creators and together with more fans..." He couldn't fit the smile on his face and his eyes were shining, it was adorable when he looked so excited, you could tell he liked what he was talking about. "It's a great plan, you can't say no," he said pointing his right hand with his index finger.

It was true, it was a great plan and she couldn't say no to him. And she really wanted to live such a unique experience with him, and alone, but the money issue put her off, and she didn't know what her mother would say about it.

"And on top of that, it's the summer holidays, you can't give me the excuse of school."

"Yes, but the money and my mother..."

"Don't worry about the money, you know..." He whispered.

Yes, it was true, he was loaded from selling weed, but it was bad for her to accept that he paid her entrance fee and everything, and that he drove and paid for the petrol.

"Even though you're failing all your science subjects, you're a good girl, I'm sure she'll let you have a whim like that. And I'm sure she doesn't think too badly of me, does she?"

"I hope so... But before we say anything, we should organise it a bit, so that she sees that we're not going on a wild adventure, that we're organised, and get her in a good mood."

"I see the logic of it, but it has to be as soon as possible, tickets may fly."

"Then let's get down to work. We must go to the library to consult maps and their routes."

That's what they did. They worked out how long the trip would take to get there and back, when they would have to leave Hawkins and when they would be back, motels to spend the night in, gas stations, how much money each of them would have to take with them to pay for expenses, how much the whole trip would cost, and a little emotional and psychological blackmail to use on _______'s mother if needed.

The next day, she let her mother know that Eddie would be going to dinner in the evening and that they wanted to tell her something important. The second she thought they wanted to tell her that they had been together for a long time or even worse, like a pregnancy, but she cleared her worries by telling her it was nothing of the sort.

"I want you here at six o'clock sharp. Get ready," she told him as she got out of Eddie's caravan in front of her house. Her house was between the school and his house, so he was her taxi driver.

"I know, I know."

"Isn't he coming in yet?" asked her mother when she saw her walk in the front door alone.

"No, he's going home to get ready," she said as she made her way to the stairs and took her backpack off her shoulders, "or did you want him to get ready here?"

"What should I make him for dinner?"

"Whatever you want, he'll eat it all pleased," she said on the first floor.

Hours passed and the doorbell rang. It was time. Luckily, he had been on time. For what he wanted to do, he was, but not for his early morning classes at school.

Eddie wasn't that uncomfortable, because he already knew the mother of his best and only female friend, but she had told him that her mother saw him as a possible boyfriend, so he knew what was going through her mind when she saw him with her daughter (the same thing happened with some people at school), and that made him ashamed, because on top of that, at least on his part, he did feel something for _______, something more than friendship.

And well, besides, it was the first time he had dinner and spent so much time with her mother, and of course, there was also the main plan, the mission they had to achieve: to convince her to let her go with him on a trip around the country and go to that metal festival. Technically she didn't need her permission, since she was already 18, but being a woman and still living under her roof, for things like that it was better to have her approval.

"Well, what is it that you wanted to tell me? Intrigue kills me," said her mother, as the three of them sat down at the table.

"Like mother, like daughter," he thought.

"Well, mom, as you know, I love metal, and so does he. It's a music that has helped me a lot in many ways for a long time, and so has Eddie, even though we've known each other for half a year. There's going to be a festival in Oakland on Saturday the 31st of August and we'd really like to go. We've thought about going in his caravan, both of us driving every couple of hours. Also, because of the proximity, we'd like to visit San Francisco and Los Angeles for at least a day, and we'd come back through the south, through the Bible Belt. He has insisted on paying for everything but I have told him no, I could pull from my savings or start working a bit. We've also looked at routes and motels to sleep in, and if anything should happen to the car Eddie is a good mechanic and has all the necessary equipment. I would call you every time we stopped at a place with a phone box. And I think I deserve to go to the festival, plus it's something that would make me very happy and travelling around the country in a car would be an experience..."

"And of course I would look after her in every way, you don't have to worry about anything," he said as seriously as she did.

"Of course, of course," she pointed her index finger at him, giving him a quick glance and a quick nod.

She looked at each of them and a smirk appeared on her face. They were both already fearing the worst.

"All this to ask me to take you on a trip and go to a concert?" she asked incredulously while holding back her laughter.

"...Yes?"

"For God's sake, you don't need to worry so much, you're both old enough to ask my permission. Besides, I can't wait for you to see the world and get wise," she said looking only at her daughter.

"So, ma'am, does that mean yes?" asked Eddie.

"Of course it does," she replied, and they both looked at each other smiling from ear to ear and high-fived.

She looked at them tenderly. It was obvious to her that they were both in love with each other.

Time passed ridiculously slowly.

During the months of waiting before the festival began, Eddie slightly increased the prices of the weed he sold, and started giving private guitar lessons to kids in town to earn a little extra and to disguise where he was getting the money to afford the trip. Meanwhile, she started giving drawing, English and Spanish classes to other kids.

On the first day of May Live Aid was announced, but despite being closer than Oakland, as it would be held in Philadelphia and would be no more than a day's drive (not counting the return trip), it was too expensive. 35$ each ticket. The price was understandable, as the event was going to be an unprecedented spectacle, where many people would be working for a good cause, but they already had enough expenses with what the Day on the Green tickets cost and the trip they would be making. Besides, even if they didn't go to the festival, raising so much money in such a short time was quite difficult, as Live Aid would be on 13th July, and tickets flew quickly, and rightly so, seeing the list of artists who were going to attend to help the cause.

Anyway, they watched Live Aid together on TV and that made them want to go to Day on the Green even more.

And finally the day came for them to go on the trip. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't climbing the walls like Spiderman herself because she was so nervous. She had never left Indiana, she had never made such a long trip, both in terms of distance and days, and she had never been separated from her mother for such a long time. But at least she was going to experience all that with her best friend and the boy she was in love with.

She had been ready since the day before and had gone through her luggage four times, and was about to do it for the fifth time, when a clack sounded outside her house. It was him, no doubt about it. She almost had a heart attack. It was time to go.

She left the house with the luggage and she and her mother pretended to put the things in the caravan, but he got off them and insisted on doing it himself.

As it was almost the end of August, and it was so hot, he was wearing no shirt and shorts. Both young friends were embarrassed for her mother to see him like that, but it was an understandable outfit because of the heat.

She hugged her mother goodbye and told her that she loved her very much. As the mother she was, she could feel her nervousness.

"Don't worry about anything, silly, you'll have a great time, you'll see," her mother whispered in her ear as they hugged.

"I know, but..."

"Before you go, I have to take a picture of you!" said her mother as they parted, "Come on, get together."

Eddie put his arm around ______'s shoulders and pulled her close to him, resting his head on hers, and she posed, making a peace sign with one of her hands. He made a devil sign with his free hand.

Her mother took the camera off her neck and handed it to her, they got into the car, both waved goodbye to her mother and Eddie drove off.

"I CAN'T WAIT!" he shouted.

"Same," she said, laughing a little nervously.

"Well, it doesn't look like it from you," he said, looking at her strangely, "what's wrong?"

"It's nerves, don't worry."

"Nerves about what?"

"To make such a trip, to be so far away from my home and my mother for so long, my comfort zone."

"I mean, it would fuck me up at this point, but if you don't want to go, there's still time for me to turn back..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! No way, of course I want to go on the trip and to the festival, and I've got you on top of that. I wouldn't do this madness with just anyone."

"Do you consider going on a trip and to a festival a crazy thing?" he asked with a mocking smile.

"No, but yes, if it's that far away..."

"As long as you don't tell me to turn around when we're in Nebraska or something like that, it's all right," he said jokingly.

"You know I won't."

On the way they listened and sang along to the cassettes he had, and she brought her own too, so they wouldn't always be alone listening to his.

It was around lunchtime and Eddie had already been driving for a couple of hours, so they stopped to rest and eat.

"Wait, I have to put sunscreen on again," she said before getting back in the car. She had just finished talking to her mother on the phone. She had little to say to her, evidently.

"Really? That's a scam, it's not necessary."

"You're telling me you've been driving around shirtless in the sun for hours without sunscreen?"

"Of course I am."

"You're going to burn, you idiot!"

"No way, you exaggerator."

"Put it," she said, offering the bottle of sunscreen.

"No," she said with disgust.

She poured cream into her free hand, moved closer to him and directed her cream-filled hand to his collarbone, rubbing her hand over it, and trying not to look at his tattooed chest or his tablet, making a superhuman effort not to let her eyes wander to those areas of his body. That took him by surprise, but he kept still and quiet, accepting the gesture.

"Dampen down a little," she asked as she rubbed cream back into her hand, looking up, meeting his eyes. "Do you see how necessary this is?" She asked as she creamed his left cheek, inches from each other. "You're already red."

He was sure he wasn't red from the sun, but he shut up.

"Turn around," she asked again, and he again obeyed.

For a second she stared at his back. She thought is was beautiful and couldn't believe she was about to run hee hands over it. She pushed his hair forward with her little finger so as not to get even a little cream in it.

"Don't you want to put your hair in a high ponytail or a bun?" She asked as she ran her hand down his back. "You'd be cooler."

"I look ridiculous."

"I'm sure you wouldn't. Besides, what difference does it make if I see you like that?"

"A lot," he thought, "you're the only person whose opinion really matters to me."

When he noticed she was done, he turned and she offered him the bottle of sunscreen again. His arms, legs and torso remained. It was understandable, she wasn't going to rub it all over him, he was too old to follow and it would be very uncomfortable in many ways, especially touching his torso, although they both wanted to.

When he finished applying the cream, he gave her back the pot and hugged her tightly.

"You idiot, you're going to stain me and you're sweaty! Ugh!" and he laughed wickedly.

"Do you want me to help you lie on your back?" he asked as he let her out of his grip.

She was wearing shorts and a crop top.

"Okay," she said as she turned around. She didn't need to, she could do it on her own, but she wasn't going to refuse help, especially if it was about him touching her.

Eddie put cream on his right hand and directed his hand to her back. He was nervous, more so than he had been before, when she was creaming him. He didn't know how to touch her, but he knew he had to act normal, so he rubbed his hand across the uncovered part of her back with the mission to get the sticky cream off his hand as quickly as possible. He tried not to look too closely at her back, and his fingertips ended up inside her crop top, unintentionally brushing her bra for a second. Then he slid his hand down her right side to remove what little cream he had left, stopping when he brushed against her trousers. She loved the feel of his hand right then, in that place, like that, even though it probably wasn't a big deal and she was making a movie in her head. Then he pushed her hair forward and decided to rub cream on her neck, massaging it lightly.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

He got into the car, in the passenger seat, where she was before, and she quickly rubbed cream on her belly and legs, then sat in the driver's seat, where Eddie was before.

"Turn around and face the window," she said.

"For what?"

"You listen to me, okay?"

"Well... Okay."

She took off the extra hair tie she wore on her wrist as a spare in case she lost the one she was wearing and grabbed Eddie's hair, doing him a bun.

"Tell me, are you cooler right now?"

"Yes, but I'm sure I look ridiculous."

"You look gorgeous, as always," she said matter-of-factly, as she settled everything in the car so she could start driving.

After a few more hours they stopped again to stretch their legs and change drivers, had dinner at a fast food place and finally ended up at a motel, almost on the outskirts of the state.

When they entered the room they saw that there was only one bed.

"I'll go and ask for a room with two beds," he said, turning away.

"Eddie, it's night, and you're exhausted," she stopped him, taking him by the arm. "Come in, come on," she said, nodding her head.

"You don't care?" he asked, referring to sharing a double bed.

"I don't give a shit," she was even excited, but of course she wasn't going to say that, and she couldn't know that he did too, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable in any way, so that's why he offered asking for a room with two beds.

They arranged their things and the first thing they wanted to do was to take a shower, they were exhausted, sweaty and sticky from the sun cream.

"I'll shower first," they both said at the same time, standing in the middle of the small room after sorting their luggage and taking things out. "...You first," they both said again at the same time, and laughed at the synchronicity and telepathy they sometimes had.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" she asked.

"Come on," he said, leaning closer to her.

They both kept their dominant hands behind their backs and recited the chant of the game at the same time.

"...and... three!" They both pulled their hands behind their backs at the same time, making their hands and fingers make the shape of the object they had chosen in their minds. She drew paper and he drew scissors, but as soon as he saw that she was losing the game, he turned his hand from scissors to stone, and then put his arm around her shoulders, making her walk towards the bathroom.

"You win, you first," he said.

"Dude!" she said, annoyed but laughing.

"Shhh."

"Well okay, but at least let me get some panties and my pajamas, or do you want me to come out of the bathroom naked?"

"All right, all right," he said letting go of her and raising his arms in the air as if he was being mugged.

She grabbed her clothes and stepped into the shower. Meanwhile, he pulled on his pajamas (aka boxer shorts), turned on the TV that was there, looked for MTV and sat on the edge of the bed to watch it. He wanted to lie down on the bed, but he didn't want to stink up the bed with the stench of his sweat or stain it.

When she came out of the bathroom her hair was wet, she was wearing only panties and a baggy T-shirt, and clearly no bra.

"Your turn," she said as she made her way to the bed to lie down on the left side of it.

He got up from the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom, which was full of steam.

"Did you take a hot shower, you crazy woman?" he asked before closing the door to get undressed and get into the shower.

"Yes," she replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world for the month they were in.

"It's the middle of August."

"Do you think I don't know that?" she asked, holding back her laughter, and then he, still surprised, closed the door.

She flicked through the television herself, but ended up back on MTV, then picked up the phone on the bedside table and called her mother again to let her know where they were and that they were okay.

He came out of the bathroom shortly after, wearing only short but baggy black boxer shorts and still with drops of cold water sliding off him, mostly running down his tattooed chest and back from his wet hair.

"Anything interesting on TV?" he asked as he lay down next to her on the bed.

"No, but we should turn it off now anyway," she said, referring to the fact that they had to get up early the next morning to continue driving.

"Yeah," he said, getting out of bed.

He went to turn off the television and the light, then turned on the ceiling fan and opened the window, then took off all his jewellery and watch, and finally lay back down on the bed with her, on her side, resting her head on his right arm. She moved into the same position facing him, and he could see her silhouette perfectly thanks to the little light coming in from outside the motel. Her T-shirt rode up slightly, revealing her belly.

She moved closer and snuggled up to him, which he gladly accepted and wrapped his free, left arm around her.

"I still can't process all of this, if you told me about this when we became friends..." she said as she looked at her friend's tattooed chest.

"Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either," he said, stroking her arm with his thumb.

It was the 27th of July last year, in the morning. She drove to her nearest record shop before they opened first thing in the morning. There was a queue of metalheads waiting in line outside the door, and she assumed they were there for exactly the same thing she was: to buy Metallica's new album, Ride the Lighting. Last year, having just released their first album, Kill 'em all, she had fallen completely in love with them and their style of music, and couldn't miss out on having the new album the instant it was released. She walked past all the metalheads standing there, until someone called out to her, catching her attention.

"_______!"

There he was, standing like the others, impatiently waiting for the shop to open to get his record.

They both knew each other from high school, despite not being in the same year or classes, and not being from popular groups, they understood and respected each other.

"Are you coming to get the new Metallica album?" he asked.

"Yes," and a big smile broke out on Eddie's lips as he gestured for her to come with him, standing next to him in the queue. "Thank you," she said for being a sneak. The person behind him pouted but fortunately didn't protest.

"I didn't know you liked Metallica, let alone knew them," he said, smiling. It was always a pleasure to meet people with the same musical tastes, especially when your tastes were considered strange and living in a small town.

"I can't say the same," she said smiling sideways, "it's pretty obvious looking at you that you do know them and many more rock and metal bands."

During the little while they waited in line they talked about how they met Metallica, their favourite songs from Kill 'em all, their favourite band members and asked each other if they liked other bands.

They went inside and went straight to get their copies of Ride the Lighting to take home.

"I'd love to listen to it together," he said as they left the shop after paying for the records, "and know each other's opinion of the songs instantly."

"Yeah," she said as they walked to the car park.

"I'd invite you to my place, but since my uncle works nights he sleeps in the mornings, and I'm going to have to listen to it," he said, referring to the record, "with my headphones on..."

"It's all right," she said. She could invite him to her house, since her mother was working and she had the whole house to herself, but she had just met him formally, she wasn't going to just invite him to her house. "I have an idea."

"What's that?"

"As soon as we get home we'll listen to it and when we're done we'll call each other to talk about it, what do you think?"

"That's fine with me."

They exchanged phone numbers and got into their cars and headed home to listen to the album for the first time.

Two minutes after she finished listening to the album, the phone rang. She knew it was him.

"What do you think?" he asked expectantly.

"I'm in shock, man."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"What do you think? Let's see."

"Good? Because come on, I loved it."

"Me too! Although I didn't like all the songs," she said with a wince as she ran her finger along the phone's curly cord.

"No? Really?!"

"Yes."

"Which ones didn't you like?"

"Fade to Black and The call of Ktulu or whatever the fuck it's called," she could hear a small chuckle on the other line.

"I don't think they're bad."

"No no, I'm not saying that, it's just that they're not my style, I need a lot more rhythm, apart from the fact that they're too long."

"Yeah, it's understandable. I do like them but they're not my favourites either."

"And which ones are?"

"I couldn't tell you, they're all very good..." he was thoughtful for a few seconds. "Maybe... My favourite is Creeping Death. The riff, the lyrics, James's voice... It's tremendous."

"I loved that one too! And For Whom the Bell Tolls. Ride the lighting too but not as much as those two. I need to listen to them on loop for hours, I swear, I loved them."

Who knew in that moment that that album would quickly become a gold album and that just over a year later they would hear them live with him on the other side of the country?

The next few days of the trip were pretty much the same as that day: driving for hours, changing drivers, putting on sun cream, stopping to eat and go to the toilet, calling her mother and his uncle, filling up with petrol, listening to their cassettes at full volume and singing loudly in the caravan, smoking tobacco, laughing, talking about silly things, taking pictures with the camera of _______, and taking showers and sleeping in motels.

It was Thursday night, and they were already in downtown Nevada, resting in the motel where they stayed that night. They were also in a room with only one bed, a double bed, but they didn't mind.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight, I can't believe we'll be in Oakland by tomorrow. I could just keep driving right now," he said as they huddled together, and knowing him as well as she did, she knew it was true.

"Yeah, me too," she said, smiling as much as he was.

"I'm so glad you're my friend, I wouldn't be having this magical experience without you... I love you so much," he said smiling sweetly.

He really wanted to say so much more, he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, that she made him crazier than he already was, that he wanted to hold her tight and never let go, to kiss her and take care of her, but... He had to keep quiet. They had a precious friendship and if he confessed and she didn't reciprocate, which he assumed was most likely, it would probably make things very awkward between them and if he confessed during the trip, they wouldn't be able to run away from each other, having to share a car and rooms for days. It would be the worst-case scenario.

She assumed that he meant that he loved her very much as a person and as a friend, and nothing more. And he did mean that he loved her in those ways, but he also meant that he secretly loved her as a partner.

"I love you too," she said, smiling in the same way.

They stood for a few seconds looking into each other's eyes in silence, and for microseconds at times their eyes would wander to each other's lips.

Maybe it was the emotions running high, maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was the night, maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the way they were cuddled up in that marriage bed, maybe it was that she was sick of hiding her feelings, maybe it was that she was too brave when she liked someone, maybe it was Eddie's words and that she wanted to have even a little faith that she could have more than friendship with him, or maybe it was all of the above at once, but she decided to bring her face close to his, ridiculously slowly for fear of screwing up.

He noticed and almost had a heart attack. He didn't know what was going through his best friend's mind, he didn't know how she felt about him, but according to him, it looked like she was getting close to his face to kiss him, which if it was true, he had to take advantage of the opportunity, so he decided to do the same as her: get close to her face in a ridiculously slow way.

But then they were stopped by noises from the people in the next room, and they weren't just any noises; they were noises of bed springs and moaning, especially from a woman.

They both stopped dead in their tracks, frozen in their tracks, staring at each other with wide eyes and trying not to piss themselves laughing.

"This is ridiculous, I swear," she whispered as she moved slightly away from him and lay on her back, "I can't believe it," she said, pillowing her ears, to no listen the moans.

"Why are you whispering? You aren't the one who should be quiet. Do you want me to knock on the wall?" he asked as he raised his left arm and put his hand on the wall.

"No, let them have a good time," she said, her pillow no longer acting as a hoof against the noise. "Besides, if you hit the wall, you'll break her," she said as he lay on his back like her.

"We're not going to sleep tonight, but not for what we thought."

"It probably won't be long before they're done."

"They'd better."

And there they were, lying on their backs staring at the ceiling, taking in what had just happened, or rather what might have happened... if it hadn't been for the two shamelessly scandalous people who were fucking like rutting animals in the next room. They were uncomfortable in many ways, although they had to admit that the situation was funny at the same time.

The next evening they were in Oakland. They went to dinner and to stretch their legs a bit, seeing a bit of the city, and then to rest at the hotel where they would sleep.

"There are a lot of good looking guys around here," she said as they walked back to the hotel, noticing that there were a lot of metalheads around town, and she assumed that many of them might be like them: not from there, not living there, but had travelled there to attend the festival. "Something tells me they're here for the same reason we are."

He didn't say anything, he knew perfectly well that his best friend was crazy about long-haired men because she said so on several occasions, but still, he didn't think he had a chance with her even if he had long hair.

They still couldn't believe that they were already there and that the next day after lunch they would be at the stadium enjoying themselves like crazy.

The next morning they decided to take the car and go sightseeing in San Francisco, passing over the Bay Bridge of course. They were aware that with how big the city was and how little time they had before they had to be ready to go to the stadium in Oakland they wouldn't be able to see much, but they weren't there for sightseeing and seeing how different it was to Hawkins was enough for them.

The concert started at two in the afternoon.

She insisted that they had better be there as soon as possible to get parking in the stadium car park and to queue as soon as possible, so they drove back to their hotel in Oakland to get their tickets and then to the stadium. They were both wearing Metallica T-shirts.

Fortunately Eddie bought the tickets a few days after the event was announced, so they had tickets to be on the field and not in the stands, which was too boring and far away from the stage. As soon as the gates to the field opened, they and everyone else ran as if they were being chased with a chainsaw to get to the front row, in front of the stage.

"Do you see how I was right to come early?" she asked. They were almost in the front row.

"Yeah, yeah."

"I saw on TV once that this kind of thing happened at concerts in stadiums, at a Michael Jackson concert."

The first band to play was Victory, then Rising Force, then Metallica. At last the moment they had been waiting for the most, the moment they had travelled thousands of miles from their hometown on the other side of their big country had finally arrived.

_______ started screaming with excitement, jumping of joy and grabbing Eddie's arm, almost cutting off his circulation and digging her nails in when she heard The Ecstasy of Gold, a song by Ennio Morricone from the soundtrack for the film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly that they always played at the beginning of their concerts two years ago as they went on stage and prepared to play.

"Are you all right?" he asked, laughing.

"AAAAAAH!" she said, waving his arm.

"I agree," he laughed, "Ride on my back," he said, bending down.

"Oh," she thought the suggestion was a good idea, but she felt bad for him, because he would have to carry her weight for all or most of their performance and he wouldn't be able to enjoy doing headbangs, or pogos, or even raising his hands in the metalhead's signature horns symbol. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, "ride."

"Okay, thank you very much, really."

"You don't have to give them," he said as she mounted his back and grabbed it.

She had her favourite band member, Cliff Burton, practically a few feet away from her. She felt like if she reached out and lifted her arm she could touch him, even though he was actually about 20m away.

They started playing one of their favourite songs: Creeping Death.

She wasn't the only one going crazy with excitement and singing her lungs out for the song, there were many more people in the audience full of excitement to see the band playing live, and she was happy for them. They were a very good band, and it was one of the first times, if not the first, that they had played in a stadium in front of so many people.

"DIE! BY MY HAND, I CREEP ACROSS THE LAND, KILLING FIRST-BORN MAN! DIE! BY MY HAND, I CREEP ACROSS THE LAND, KILLING FIRST-BORN MAN, DIEEEEEE!"

Eddie looked up and saw her singing loudly with a smile from ear to ear that didn't fit on her face. He had never seen her so happy, and his smile grew bigger. Then he turned his attention back to the group in front of him.

"OH YEAH?" shouted James Hetsfield, the band's vocalist and rhythm guitarist, into the microphone, and then he tilted his head towards the audience and put his hand to his ear, as if trying to sharpen his hearing. He was clearly playing with the audience.

"OH YEAH!" they shouted, and many more.

"OH YEAH?" James shouted again, doing the same as before.

"OH YEAH!" they shouted again.

"FUCKING RIDE THE LIGHTIIIIING!" shouted James into the microphone, and he and the rest of the band started playing that song. "HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! ARE YOU FUCKING OUT THERE?" he shouted raising his hand, encouraging the audience to be loud when they were already halfway through the song. "HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!" he shouted in the same way almost at the end of the song, "I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU!" he shouted as he put his hand to his ear. "HEY!"

Then he walked away from the microphone and stood next to Cliff. They were both doing headbangs and were perfectly in sync without even trying. Meanwhile, Kirk Hammett, the band's lead guitarist, on the other side of the stage was going more his own way.

When the song was over James walked over to the foot of the drum kit, where Lars Ulrich was standing, and picked up a small bottle of beer, probably fresh and alcoholic, and walked back to his microphone.

"ROCK AND ROOOOOLL!" shouted Eddie, and she laughed and shouted back.

"ARE YOU DOING ALL RIGHT?" asked James, and everyone shouted, "We've come here to kick some assess! [ . . . ] You know Cliff Burton over there?" He asked the crowd, pointing to his bandmate, the bass player. "Everyone, "Hey Cliff, how ya doing?"" he said waving his hand in greeting.

"HI CLIFF!" she and a few others shouted.

James stepped away from the microphone as he took a sip from the bottle of beer he had just picked up next to the drum kit, and Cliff began to play a bass solo while doing a light headbang, his head bent low and focused on the strings of his black bass while his hair moved incessantly, as did his fingers.

The best words to describe that bass solo were "Epic", "Legendary", "Magical", "Iconic", "Mind-blowing"... And it sounded like he was playing thunder instead of an instrument. ______'s eyes and mouth opened slightly without her noticing, and the hair on her body stood on end. Absolutely everyone was shocked, including Lars, who forgot to start playing the drums, and Cliff himself had to turn around and tell him he had to start playing. As soon as Lars started playing the drums, Cliff came back and played another epic bass solo.

She would recognise that rhythm anywhere, in any situation. It was For whom the bell tolls, and it was a song entirely written by Cliff. The smile on his face throughout the whole show, but especially during that song, was priceless. He kept doing headbangs, moving around the stage, gesticulating with his hands and singing to himself. You could tell he was excited to play that bass solo and his song in front of so many people enjoying it.

Then they started playing The Four Horsemen, a song from their first album, and it seemed that she wasn't the only one who was running out of voice, because she noticed James' voice faltering a bit.

The song was followed by Fade to Black, despite a boy in the audience shouting out Whiplash as a suggestion.

"Thank you! That was Fade to Black, from the album Ride the Lighting...! ...ARE WE GOING TO FUCK UP TODAY OR WHAT?" The crowd screamed in response, and he threw the pick at a person in the audience. "Good catch! ...WANT DESTRUCTION?" the audience shouted back in response. "By the way, this one goes... There's no other way, on the Kill 'em all album. We want to hear you scream! This song is called... SEEK & DESTROY!" The crowd screamed again for the third time, and more than the previous times. "I can't fucking hear you," said James pretending to be disappointed as the crowd sang the chorus. That was the song where the crowd was the loudest.

And last but not least, and finally for the fan in the audience who kept shouting it: Whiplash.

"THANK YOU SO MUCH!" said James as the song ended, "THANK YOU!

The crowd started screaming "Metallica!" non-stop, and seeing that they wanted more of them and that Y&T weren't ready to go on stage yet, they were allowed to play more songs. They chose to play half of Diamond Head's Am I Evil? and Motorbreath.

"Good day, whatever!" said James, waving goodbye to the audience. "Cheers! Thank you very much!"

As they left the stage, Eddie crouched down and she got off his shoulders.

"Well, we can go now," she said jokingly. "Thank you very much. I'll give you a massage later."

"Don't worry about it."

"That was amazing, my God!" she said as they walked out of the stadium after all the performances were over.

"I told you you had to come!" he said. "Thank goodness I convinced you into it."

"But can we talk about Metallica's performance? Oh my God, it's still not sinking in!"

"Cliff's bass solo in the intro of For whom the bell tolls made the hair on the back of my neck stand up," he confessed.

"Me too, man! And his smile throughout the whole song?! I love him, he's a genius and super adorable, I could tell he was living it up."

It took them a while to get out of the car parking and around the stadium as it was packed. Being from Hawkins, they had never seen so many cars together and so much traffic.

"Where do you want to go now?" he asked as he drove. It was still daylight, but it was late afternoon. "Are you hungry? Shall we go to dinner?"

"I'm not hungry yet, are you?"

"Neither am I."

"Not as hungry as the concert, but I can't wait to go to the beach and see the ocean. I'd like to see the sunset there."

"Then there we go."

They crossed back over the bay bridge and missed directions to the locals, peering out of the caravan windows. They were told that the best beach to enjoy the view, including the Golden Gate Bridge, was Baker Beach, so that's where they went.

They arrived at just the right time, at sunset. They took off their shoes and for the first time felt the sand under their feet and between their toes. The ocean breeze made their manes and their wide shirts move as the wind wanted them to, and for the first time they smelled the salty water. The eyes of _______ were fixed on the sun hiding behind the Pacific Ocean.

She decided to take her camera out of her bag and take a picture. Meanwhile, Eddie was looking at her. He thought she was prettier than the sunset. When she finished taking the picture, she put the camera back in her bag, put it on the ground and looked at the sunset again for a second, then looked at Eddie.

"This is the best day of my life," she said, teary-eyed but smiling.

"Hey hey hey," he said worriedly, "why are you crying?"

"I'm crying from happiness," she said as she smiled at her friend's concern and ran her fingers across her eyes to wipe away the tears, "it's a good thing."

Eddie put his arms around her and kissed her head repeatedly. She was too adorable, she could handle him. He loved her madly.

"It's the best day of my life, too," he said when they broke apart, and he placed one of his hands on her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently to wipe away the trace of the silent tear that had fallen down her face seconds before.

They both couldn't wait to tell the other that they loved each other, that they loved each other madly and not just as best friends, to kiss... But the fear of rejection and ruining the moment, the day, the trip and their friendship outweighed those desires.

"We haven't tasted water yet, how is that possible?" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to make her laugh and trying to distract himself from the impulse he had felt to confess and kiss her at that moment. "Come on!" he said, taking her by the hand and making her walk towards the shore, leaving her slippers, socks and bag behind.

"It's warm," she said, slightly surprised with her feet in the water.

"It must be because it's been in the sun all day. How about a swim? It's perfe-"

"Ugh, something touched my foot!" She said in disgust, lifting her foot and moving towards him.

"It's seaweed."

"I'm not taking a bath," she said, still disgusted.

"Because of the seaweed?" he asked, raising one of his eyebrows and smiling mockingly.

"It's too disgusting... For that I prefer swimming pools or bathtubs."

"It's just a plant, but a sea plant," he said, bending down and picking it up. He stretched out his arm to pull her closer but she pulled back as if he was holding a cockroach, and seeing how her body and face reacted, he couldn't help but laugh as he let go the plant. "Look, there's a very clean area over there," he said pointing with his head as he approached her, and while she was distracted for a second looking at the area he had pointed out to her, he bent down and grabbed her behind her knees and her waist, like a prince carrying his princess in a fairy tale that mothers told their daughters in bed before they went to sleep at night.

"What-" She didn't mind him grabbing her like that, in fact, she obviously liked it if it was him, but she stopped liking it when she saw Eddie start to go into the sea, into an area with too much seaweed for her liking. "Eddie, no! Don't even think about it!" and he laughed a wicked laugh, like when he saw his fellow Hellfire Club members in distress in a Dungeons and Dragons battle.

"Don't be a pussy!"

"Eddie I'm literally a pussy!" she said refering to her vagina.

"Not everything could be perfect this day, baby!"

"Eddie, if you drop me there, your uncle will never hear from you again! And I'm wearing clothes, not a bikini!"

"So what? The clothes are drying."

"Not in this air and it's getting dark, and I don't have a towel."

"Weeeell," he said, turning around while smiling and setting her down on the shore, on the sand.

They walked back to where they had left their things and she sat down on the sand. He decided to sit behind her, wrapping his legs and arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"You're stupid," she said, annoyed but smiling at the same time.

"And you love me for it," he said, poking her lightly in the side with the tip of his index finger.

"Yes..." He sighed deeply, "very much, as you have no idea, much to my disgrace," she thought.

It was getting colder and colder, so they decided to go somewhere for dinner and then to the hotel to rest, trying to catch up on sleep while they were snuggled up to each other, as they were used to.

The next morning Eddie woke up with a horrible neck ache from doing so many headbangs and some back pain from holding _______ during Metallica's performance, so before leaving the hotel she lay on top of him on the bed and gave him the best neck, shoulder and back massage she could. She was smart and knowing how much her neck would hurt the next day and how fragile it was, she decided not to do headbangs.

Then they headed for Los Angeles and by lunchtime they were there, on Venice Beach with a few litres of alcoholic beer they had bought, and now they had their swimming costumes and towels on (and sunscreen, of course).

"We had rock and roll..." he said, referring to the festival, "we've had 'drugs', if we can consider them drugs...", he said, throwing his hands up in the air, one with a bottle of beer and a freshly lit cigarette in the other. She had forbidden him to bring weed for fear of being caught in a checkpoint. "The sex is the only thing missing."

"I don't feel like fucking any guy here," she said, "they all look like Barbie's boyfriend."

"And they all look like Barbies here," he said half-heartedly, to her surprise.

"But Barbies are pretty."

"Have you seen the sculptures of the ancient Romans? They're made of rock, they're quality and there are few of them. On the other hand, there are a lot of plastic ones, of poor quality and copies of each other. I prefer a woman made of rock."

"How do you know that, Shakespeare?" She asked with a mocking smile. "I thought you were bad at history."

"Yes, but not at art."

"Anyway, even if we wanted to fuck with someone here, I don't think they'd want to fuck with us."

"Speak for me, but not for you. You're beautiful."

"I'm not that much."

"Said the one who always has several guys behind her."

"But they're not Kens because I'm not a Barbie, I'm not popular."

"You are popular among the "weirdos" at school, and you know it, don't tell me you're not."

"Well, I didn't say I was ugly, I admit it, but..."

"You're beautiful. End of discussion."

"Well, all right, if you say so..." She looked away, holding her smile and blushing a little, "Thanks, I guess. You too," she looked back at him.

"Oh, you think I'm a pretty girl, too!" He said in a squeaky voice and put his hand to his chest, pretending to be surprised. "Thank you very much! Aren't you roasting? Shall we go in the water? Or are you still terrified of seaweed?"

"Mm..." Yes, actually yes, she was too disgusted by that.

"At least come and soak your feet, right?" he asked as he stubbed out his cigarette in the sand and got up.

"Well, okay," she said, doing the same as she made a bun with one of the hair ties around her wrists.

"The tide brings the seaweed to the shore," he said, pointing to it as the two of them stood there soaking their feet, "but look, it's all clear up ahead. You only have to go the first few yards. I can carry you and get you there without you touching any seaweed."

"Uh..."

The beach was full of people and she was embarrassed to be seen being carried, as if she didn't have the legs to walk and go into the water on her own. It would be more embarrassing if they found out how disgusting the seaweed made her feel, but it was not her fault that she found it disgusting, especially as an inland girl who could only swim in clean pools. But then she thought that she shouldn't give a shit what strangers thought of her and that she didn't want to miss the experience of swimming in the Pacific Ocean with her best friend after an epic and unforgettable trip, so she accepted the proposal.

"Well, okay," he thought he was going to carry her like he had carried her at the festival the day before, but he carried her like he had carried her on the beach in San Francisco, like a princess. That was a little more embarrassing than being carried like a little girl on hia back. "How are you not disgusted by stepping on them?" she asked, disgusted, referring to the seaweed as he began to walk deeper into the ocean.

"They're just plants," he laughed, "you act like they're cockroaches."

"But their touch is disgusting."

"I don't think it's that bad."

"Well, lucky you."

"You know there are people who eat them?"

"Good for them," she said indifferently, and he laughed again at her answer. "Oh, it's freezing!" she said, referring to the water when he was already deeper in, the water coming up to his waist, and she was wetting her butt.

"It's not that bad! Besides, what did you expect? Don't be a pussy!"

And when he finally reached the area without seaweed, he suddenly let her go, making her scream at such an abrupt change of temperature. She, annoyed, splashed him with her arm. He laughed.

"It would have been worse little by little, if you do it all at once it's less bad," yes, he was one of those who jumped in the pool, "or did you want me to baptise you?" He closed his eyes, shut his mouth, covered his nose with his hand and bent down, putting his head completely in the water. When he pulled it out, he shook her hair like a shampoo advert and splashed her a little.

They stayed on the beach most of the day, until it got dark and they went to the hotel where they would be staying that night.

On Monday morning, 2 September, they would start the journey home, back to Hawkins. It was a bit depressing, as they didn't want the trip to end, they had had too much fun, and on top of that they didn't feel like going back to school, especially as they had to repeat their last year.

It was the second time that Eddie had repeated his last year and the whole group of friends from ______ had graduated and left town, but at least they would be in the same class together.

The last night they spent together they were sad for that very reason, because it was going to be the last night they would sleep together. And the last morning they spent together Eddie woke up before she did, so knowing how little his best friend wanted to go back and start her last term again, he decided to wake her up by tickling her, making her squirm in bed, crying with laughter and screaming for him to stop.

They returned to Hawkins on Saturday evening. Eddie helped get their luggage out of his van and into their house, and her mother offered to stay for dinner with them, so she could listen to the stories of the trip told by the two of them. Knowing that his uncle would not be home when he arrived because of his work schedule, and knowing that his best friend's mother's food was better than anything edible in his house, he gladly accepted the invitation.

"The beaches were amazing. The one I liked best was the one in San Francisco, because of the view of the Golden Gate," she told her mother when the three of them were at the dinner table.

"But she was afraid to go in the water because she was disgusted by the seaweed," said Eddie, "and the next day in Los Angeles I had to carry her like a Disney princess to get her into the water without being brushed by any of the seaweed."

"I wasn't afraid, you exaggerator!" she said in her defence, "just disgusted."

And then it was time to say goodbye. They both felt it would be a long time before they would see each other again, but in reality they would see each other in two days, on Monday morning at the school.

"I had a great time," she said in front of him, holding his hands, looking at him and smiling wistfully beside his van, parked in front of her house, "thank you for convincing me to come, thank you for everything."

"Thank you for coming," he said, looking at her and smiling in the same way, squeezing her hands and then letting go to give her a long, tight hug. "I'll see you Monday at school, okay?" he said as they parted.

"Unfortunately," she didn't even have a spark of desire to go back there, who would? Only popular people or people who find it easy to study or the poor bastards whose validation depends on having high numbers on papers after spewing out useless data for everyday life. "Goodbye," she said as she began to walk backwards, waving her hand as a final goodbye, and then she turned around. He stood there, watching her walk away from him and through the door of her house, making the last direct eye contact with her eyes quickly before she closed the door behind her.

As much as she was looking forward to seeing her mother and being in the comfort of her home, and especially in the comfort of her room and bed, she felt that she had missed something of utmost importance along the way, that she was missing something important: it was him, and the post-concert, post-trip depression. The same thing happened to him, and on top of that his uncle wasn't at home to greet him when he arrived from dropping off ______ at her house, but he knew that was a likely thing. He would see him on Sunday at noon, as he had a night shift, and in the morning he slept.

Their beds were supposed to be their greatest source of comfort, especially after almost two weeks of travelling around the country, from motel to hotel and back again. So why couldn't they sleep? They were not stupid, they were aware of their feelings, but they didn't think it would affect them so much. They missed each other, they wanted each other to be there beside them, lying down and cuddling. He tried to hug his pillow but it wasn't the same. She wanted to hug a crappy stuffed animal he gave her off the arcade hook a year ago but it was too small to be cuddled.

Eddie could have perfectly well drugged himself to calm down and fall asleep as soon as possible, but instead he decided to do something even more stupid: get out of bed, leave the house, get in the van and drive to his best friend's house. Hopefully she was still awake, hopefully they could sleep together that night, hopefully he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of her for having such a need like a little kid.

"Shit," he thought as he got out of the van, which he had parked in front of the house. He didn't see any light inside, everything indicated that mother and daughter had already gone to bed in their respective rooms.

But then he thought that just because she was in bed didn't mean she was already asleep. She decided to go to the side of the house and stand under her bedroom window. He bent down to the floor in search of pebbles to throw at the window to get her attention in a quiet way, without waking her mother or her neighbours.

He threw a pebble at her window, calculating his aim with his mind and throwing it hard enough so that it would reach the window but not break the glass even a little bit. It didn't rattle against the glass because there was no glass, the window was open because of the heat, but he thought that wasn't a problem, and maybe it was more effective for the pebble to go inside her room.

As it happened, the pebble ended up inside her room, bouncing on the floor, making noise, but he didn't know that for sure, he didn't know if that had woken her up if she was sleeping or if it had caught her attention enough to make her get out of bed and look out the window to see what was going on, so he decided to throw another pebble, and just as he was about to throw it, she looked out of the window.

"Eddie?" she asked in a whisper, surprised and confused. "What is it? What are you doing here?" He dropped the pebbles and took a few steps forward. It was the moment he was waiting for, what he had planned and wanted was happening, but he opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out of him. He didn't know what to say, because there was really a lot he wanted to express. "Do you want me to come down?" she asked, and he nodded his head quickly, but it was dark and she couldn't see it very well, so she decided to ask. "Yes?"

"Yes," he answered, "please."

"I'll be right there, wait a second," she said, who had to put on a pair of trousers because she was in her panties, go downstairs and get her keys.

"No hurry," he said as he moved away from the window. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The longer it took her to come down, the more time he would have to calm down. He was restless, more than usual. He never used to get this nervous before playing in front of people from the school.

He heard the door of the house open and close and she approached him with the keys in the pocket of the shorts she had just put on. Crickets could also be heard not far away, and the leaves of the trees rustling in the thin breeze.

"What's the matter?" She said, approaching him with concern. "Has something happened?"

"No, no, it's all right," she saw how nervous and uneasy he was and knew he was lying, but she took his hands to calm him in every way. He gladly agreed, and he did calm down somewhat.

"So?" she asked, even more puzzled.

"Well... You see... I know it's stupid, but... Well, you know me, don't you? I'm like that, I can't help it..." There was a brief silence in which he didn't know what to say, or rather how to say it, trying to find the words in his mind while she looked at him and waited for whatever he was going to say. She didn't really know what to expect from him, and the situation was strange. "I couldn't sleep and I think it's because I'm missing you by my side," he laughed nervously again. She smiled and tightened her grip.

"The same thing was happening to me."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"Really."

"So...? Are we sleeping together tonight?"

"Please and thank you. At your place?"

"Okay."

"I'll come in for a moment to write a note to my mother for when she wakes up tomorrow and doesn't see me at home," he said, holding up her hand, pointing to her house with her thumb behind it, "okay?"

"Sure."

After what she said and did, they rode in his van to Eddie's house in absolute silence, no music, no talking. They didn't need to, and they didn't have anything to talk about since they hadn't seen each other for only two hours. The silence was not uncomfortable, they wore smiles on their lips and their hair swayed in the breeze coming through the lowered windows.

"If your uncle sees me and finds out that we slept in the same bed, he'll think badly," she said as she climbed into his bed and snuggled against him.

"Let him think what he wants, I don't care," he said as she settled her head on his arm, "he'd be happy and everything. Your mother is not the only one who matches us," which was true. Some people in town, especially in high school, just assumed the two of them were a couple.

"Yeah."

He started stroking her head, or rather her hair, with the hand on the arm she was using as a pillow. The other was on her back. They were pressed against each other. He had his neck in front of her face, and his tattooed chest exposed. They both felt at last at peace, completely calm and ready to sleep if they wanted to, but they didn't want to, they wanted to enjoy this moment of being conscious.

"You could have fallen asleep smoking weed but you didn't, why?"

"You're my favourite drug," he dared to say. The night made everyone feel vulnerable and sensitive, and he was no exception. Maybe he shouldn't listen to the things that went through his mind at night, but there were times when he couldn't help it, and that was one of those times.

That phrase and him going to her home to tell hee that he needed to sleep with her definitely had to mean something, something good and important, but she couldn't assume that either if it didn't come out of his mouth in a more explicit way. She didn't want to get her hopes up, make an Oscar-worthy movie in her head, and then get the shock and the downer.

Luckily for her, Eddie spoke without her asking any questions.

"There's something else I wanted to tell you..."

"What's that?"

"The problem is... I'm afraid to tell you."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Eddie. I love you madly and I'm going to be there for you no matter what."

"I don't know how to express it either..."

"So, if you can't put it into words.... Express it with an action," she said, believing where he was going.

Emboldened by his best friend's words and the late hours of the night, he decided to move the hand on her back to her cheek. With his thumb he brushed her lips to find out exactly where they were, for they were in their room in complete darkness, unable to see each other even if they were inches away from each other. Then he raised her head slightly and bowed his head, and at last did what he had wanted to do for more than half a year: he kissed her, confessing at last his deep feelings for her. She quickly returned the kiss, while a big smile formed on her lips.

"So... Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes, for a long time," he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

"How long?"

"More than half a year ago."

"Well, it seems we're in sync even for that."

"Do you feel the same way I do?" He asked, surprised and confused but happy at the same time.

"How do you feel about me Eddie? Please tell me, I want to hear it come out of your mouth," she said, now she was caressing his cheek.

"I love you. You are my Arwen to my Aragorn. When I hear love songs I can't help but think of you. You make me so happy just to be by my side. You are beautiful in every way and I have so much fun with you. You are not only my best friend and the person I love the most after my uncle, you are the woman of my dreams and I think you are my soul mate" with every sentence he said she got more emotional and it was hard for her to hold back the urge to cry with happiness, while he was still not processing that he had just kissed her, that his kiss had been reciprocated and that he was finally telling her out loud what he'd been keeping quiet and so deep inside for so long, "and I can't wait to fucking graduate so I can start working a full time job and save up to get married and live on our own and together in our own house, our own home. ...Although any place is a home if you're there," he suddenly heard a sob and felt a drop fall on his arm, the one that was being her pillow. "_______?" he asked frightened with fear that he had completely screwed up.

"I love you so much," she said crying out of pure happiness, her heart couldn't fit in her chest from all the happiness she was feeling, "you have no idea how happy you make me right now."

"So you're crying from happiness again?"

"I couldn't cry for anything else," and now it was she who jumped up and kissed him. Then he hugged her tightly.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"You didn't even have to ask."

"I wanted to ask you, I've wanted that for a long time and to hear a yes for an answer from you," she smiled even more, almost laughing at what he had just said.

"Yes, silly, I do."

"Now I'm completely yours, more yours than ever, more than I've ever been."

"I'll say the same."

They kissed again, and then he moved his free hand to her pillowy arm, and took off one of the three rings he wore. He took off the skull-shaped one and handed it to her, leaving it on her hand. She could tell which ring it was by touch.

"I want you to have it from now on, as a token of my love and our relationship."

"Thank you," she said, putting it on her thumb, as it was too big on the rest of her fingers.

Little else happened after that, just a few more kisses, caresses and the occasional playful touch but nothing more. They were exhausted from the journey and finally felt at peace, ready to sleep now that they were together physically and romantically.

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starbunii · 6 months ago

Text

. fireworks 𓂃 ♥︎

𝜗𝜚 ┈ tighnari x reader !

notes: it's independence day, and the fireworks are kind of freaking me out! i decided to write about tighnari dealing with the loud noises too, given his sensitive fennec fox ears. he's been on my mind lately lol

oneshot ノ fluffノfem! reader ノcanon universe

second person pov !! please enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

-- ♡ --

God, it was all so...loud..

The chattering of people, the clashing swells of music, the sound of shoes clacking against cobblestone roads. Even the plants seemed to be screaming, despite not having vocal chords. But worst of all was the loud shriek of fireworks, followed by an excruciating pop of light in the sky.

Tighnari couldn't handle it.

He was curled up in bed, ears pushed flat against his head as he wrapped his tail over his leg, covering himself in his comforter. He was trying so hard not to cry, completely overwhelmed by all the sounds.

Of course, you were busy helping out at the Akademiya, assisting the stage hands for the upcoming dance of Sabzeruz. He couldn't possibly ask you for help; he'd look stupid and needy.

But these noises were unbearable, and he could here them all the way from Avidya Forest. It wasn't fair. Despite his attempts at a life in solitude with a few friends, he could still hear the bustling sounds of the city; of celebration.

It's not that he didn't want to celebrate the Sabzeruz Festival. He did. He would've loved to join you at the several banquets and little shops selling merchandise to commemorate the festival; but the noises held him back.

It took hours for you to finally come home, and even then, the noises didn't stop. He couldn't even notice your presence, too distracted on keeping himself calm. He flinched so hard when you finally tapped his shoulder and crawled into bed with him.

"Y-You-" He sniffled, finally allowing himself to sob, clinging tightly to your clothes, taking in your scent at long last.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long...are you ok..?" You whispered softly, gently petting his head. He pushed his head into your hands, allowing you to scratch his ears.

"F-Fine...I'm fine..."

His shaking hands said other wise. He whimpered at your touch, curling up and nudging your stomach with his head. He allowed himself to finally melt, to feel safe at long last.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, this is all he wanted; gentle petting and sweet kisses. He was finally comfortable, all thanks to you.

Eventually, the fireworks stopped, and he fell asleep right in your arms.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #tighnari x reader #tighnari #ghost.writes

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

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hello!! can I please get a drabble that takes place in the 70s with artist boho slut benedict x reader? thank you 🙈

Kinktober: Benedict + Chem / High Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, Modern 1970s AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, use of recreational drugs, sexual acts while high/under the influence, 69 position, oral sex (m to f, f to m) blowjob and cunnilingus, facesitting, vaginal fingering, deepthroat.

Author’s note: hi Nonny. Well, this request immediately made me think of boho hippy artist Ben selling his art at a music festival and voila, a whole AU was born for me. Honestly, this universe was so fun I might write more in the future 😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You have a cock in your mouth when the drug kicks in. A corkscrew of colour swimming before your eyes has you pausing to make a noise of surprise, not just because of the fantastic suction around your clit.

“Holy shit….” you mumble, pulling up to take a breather.

“It kicked in, huh?” Benedict smirks as you look down between your legs to his handsome face.

“Yeah… fuckkkkk,” you stutter, unmoored.

This wasn't how you envisioned this music festival going, but damn, if you aren't having the time of your life.

Just an hour ago, you arrived as the sun set, still yet to find your friends, when you stumbled upon a stall selling captivating artwork. You felt utterly compelled to purchase a piece, even before you saw the beautiful, square-jawed, blue-eyed, topless man selling it.

Daisy chains looped into his wavy chestnut locks, flared jeans hanging dangerously low over an Adonis belt—a Grecian statue made flesh. By the time he informed you that he was indeed the artist and, after a few drinks, offered you a tab of something to “start your festival right”, you were already his.

And so here you now, in the back of his VW bus, windows concealed by vibrant tie-dyed fabrics, chemicals coursing in your bloodstream as you bring each other pleasure. Sitting naked upon his face, draped over his warm body, his cock in your mouth. A circuit of decadent, lush delight. And now….

Now, every feeling is heightened.

You dive back onto him with something approaching ferocity, savouring his silken but steely cock passing through your lips, each contour sparking synesthesia behind your eyelids. When his tongue ploughs deep into your pussy it ripples up your insides into your belly, settling as a fire behind your ribs. And when he sucks your clit, it’s as if you can trace the signal racing to your brain from those millions of afferent nerve endings.

Strains of music from the distant soundstage seep through the popped skylight above as his long, artistic fingers swirl patterns on the notches of your spine. His sinewy arms wrapped tight around your hips, encouraging you to use his face and tongue as if he were a vessel built purely for your enjoyment.

And fuck if he isn't—he tastes, embodies, and imbues hedonism. His skin is smooth and smells of citrus, earthy bark and charcoal. His cock is perfect, a delight that fills your mouth and makes your bones liquefy at the idea he might fuck you.

You spiral your tongue around his head in a tempo to match the tattoo his drums over your clit, all your concentration pinpointed on these mirrored movements, sinful unhurried sensualism. Luxuriating as if you have hours to spend together, with no destination in mind other than a memorable experience.

When he buries two fingers inside you, your cry muffled around his cock, you can feel his smirk in the stubble abraiding your labia. Well, if he wants to notch things a little higher….

Mind looping with rainbows, you take a deep breath and sink until his cock is in your throat. The feral sound he makes hot against your clit like another drug you could get addicted to. He groans your praises, a hand straying into your hair to hold your head down, his plush lips snagging your engorged pearl as you hold still, images of colourful dancing bears before your eyes, each bearing his face contorted with ecstasy. Something about him makes you want to be the best he has ever had. Make him not want to leave your side; make him not want to get dressed ever again; just spend eternity entwined in your body.

You pull up, and then after a few deep sucking draws that have him groaning and begging, you sink down again, fighting the need to breathe, captivated by each novel new image your mind supplies. All the while, he tries to match you, lashing your clit, fingers drumming your g spot as the other wraps your ponytail around his fist. When you whimper around him, his sac tightens against your nose.

“Fuck, I'm going to come,” he growls in warning, yet still you stay, knowing what is coming and craving it.

A pulse runs the length of his cock, and then you feel it, a thick salty rope shooting right into your throast that tastes like victory and desire. You suck and swallow all you can as you pull up, needing to breathe, and as he sings your praises, you nuzzle him, licking him clean as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.

“Your turn,” his warning glittering and smokey with promise.

It's then you experience your first orgasm high on drugs. Your body on fire as he expertly suckles, swirls, and even bites your swollen, soaked flesh, fingers buried deep in your leaking pussy, like he lives only for your nectar and rapture.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, as you keep kissing his cock while it softens, something for you to wrap your lips around, to muffle your screams as he pushes you towards heights you have never scaled. Hyperaware of everything: sounds, smells, his touch, the sight of him pinned under you, so very eager to please. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers together tightly just as you tumble over the edge.

Fireworks, lightning, strobe lights, all multicoloured, going off in your mind as you float high above as if an untethered balloon, at once a million miles away and yet also rooted so deep in your body, feeling everything in every nerve, every cell, every synapse fire.

He moves behind you as you collapse to one side, breathlessly panting, mind adrift, curling up almost foetal, overloaded by everything. Wrapping his warm body like a protective shell around you, his nose buried in your hair, his arms caging you, his legs bracketing yours.

“That was transcendent. Truly magical,” he murmurs, dazed, and you have to agree.

No taglist as these drabbles are short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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s4turns-st4rs · 21 days ago

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hi cutie

how are you?

I read your fics and headcanons of George Weasley and I have to confess that I LOVE your writings 💌

so i was wondering if you could write something fluffy and fun about baking cookies or putting together a gingerbread house with George Weasley?

thank you so much (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。

have a nice day or night!💌

walking in a winter wonderland !

🎁 ﹐ ♡﹒ george weasley oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: anon this is so cute! sorry if it’s a bit short, i wanted to get it posted before the end of the festive season. anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

in which: george’s cheeky tendencies tend to get in the way of your romantic plans…

words: 0.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: winter wonderland - beabadoobee

george weasley was a pleasantly unpredictable boyfriend. you weren’t quite sure what compelled george to do so, but two days before christmas, he bought a gingerbread house. now, it’s not to say you’re both “bad” chefs, per se, but it wouldn’t be the first time you’d set the kitchen on fire.

although, you had to cut the poor boy some slack. it was his first christmas not living in the burrow, and it was clear the homesickness was taking its toll.

the two of you had been on an extensive grocery shop, buying all the christmas necessities (and stereotypes), before george’s eyes lit up like a child, and he raced off. after a moment, he returned, carrying a diy gingerbread house in his hands like it was made of gold.

“look what i found!” he said, full of childish glee. and then he popped it in the trolley with no further discussion.

and now you were here, christmas eve, kitchen (and boyfriend) a mess, and a half made gingerbread house. the sound of familiar muggle christmas songs wafted through the air like a pleasant nostalgic smell, and george’s foot subconsciously tapped to the music. the kitchen counter was covered with sprinkles, which were also scattered liberally through george’s ginger locks.

his brow furrowed as his fingers pinched the sides of the gingerbread house, desperately trying to keep it upright as the icing dried. he let out a slight frustrated groan, the white sticky decoration dripping onto his fingers, as he let out a defeated huff.

“love… help…”

he let out a slight sigh of relief as your fingers took his place, carefully adjusting the gingerbread house.

“can we decorate soon?” he said with a pout, watching you work with heart eyes.

you laughed slightly at his hopeful comment, looking up briefly. “you’ve already started, what do you mean?” you said with a nod towards his sprinkle-covered hair, to which he flushed slightly.

“i just got excited.” he said sheepishly, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek.

he wrapped his arms around your waist as you worked on the festive desert, his long slender fingers splayed across your stomach. he rested his chin on your shoulder, the feeling of his warm breath on your jaw sending shivers down your spine.

“love, look…” george said suddenly, a freckled finger pointing out the window. as if it wasn’t christmasy enough, outside, snowflakes had started to fall, coating the ground in soft layers of cold white snow. he raced to the window, leaning against the windowsill to gaze at the winter wonderland outside, as you followed suite.

“romantic, ay?” he teased, elbowing you slightly.

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his comment, draping your arm around his waist as you stand beside him. “i fear that may have undermined the romance.”

“i’m always romantic, i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he retorted with a smirk, placing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his body.

the corner of your lips tilted into a small smile at his words, not disagreeing with his cheeky comment. the unkempt kitchen fell into a comfortable silence, the two of you content in the embrace you shared as you watched the snowflakes trickle down. the music and mess in the room dulled into background noise as you felt george’s arms around you.

suddenly, he pulled away from you, jumping up and down on the spot.

“last one outside’s a rotten egg!”

#-ˋˏ✄┈┈ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 .ᐟ #x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #christmas fic

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cheesy09 · 11 months ago

Text

[CN] Kiro's Sound Waves Mind's Quest (Pt. 1)

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This date was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

Note: This date explores some very suggestive themes, so if you do not meet the game's required 17+ age rating, I'd suggest to avoid reading this date.

Highly recommended that you read Kiro's R&S: Youthhood, R&S: Stunning Young Idol as well as his New Palpitations Date before engaging with the date!

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 1]

Woooah---

The spotlight shines to the beat of the drums, and thousands of people in the audience cheer.

Under the beam, Kiro raises his hand, the silver pick hovering over the strings of the electric guitar with a slight difference. In an instant, the world seems to freeze, and all eyes are on him.

And after he turns his head and smiles at me, he sweeps it down hard with his right hand.

The sharp melody surges from the speakers, and I automatically step to the beat, playing the corresponding rhythm on the keys.

The keys of the keyboard and the strings of the guitar tacitly collide with each other, causing the audience to scream again and again.

In such a thrilling and electrifying world, all happiness and noise can be released here unscrupulously.

Under the surging sound waves, Kiro jumps along with everyone, and the fingertips flying across the strings gradually approach its climax.

His blond hair sways wildly to the music, and the smooth lines of his muscles grow tighter with the ever-accelerating rhythm.

As the amplitude of the sound waves grows louder and louder, he presses his entire back against my own, and using him as support, I hotly press up against him.

The sound of the strings and our breaths intertwine until the melody is pushed to its climax. I stop my hands in an instant and give an air shot to the person who was paying the most attention.

Bam! - the passionate tail sounds bloom loudly into the night, instantly extinguishing all the lights.

Panting, I return backstage, but as soon as I turn around, I'm met with a pair of deep eyes.

I take a step forward, wanting to say something, but he grabs me and kisses me in the darkness.

The sounds of the encore rise and fall, but I have no time to care about such things. I just tighten my grip on the front of his guitar strap and demand for more.

The friction between our clothing and the strings makes a fine sound, as if continuing the music in another subtle way.

Our heated and soft breaths cause me to slowly slide to the ground, and he squats down with me, pressing one of his hand against the wall and deepening the kiss.

Most of my oxygen is instantly sucked away. Everything spins, and strange light spots keep dancing in front of my eyes.

Those lights become more and more ethereal, slowly enveloping the world in a layer of white gauze, and the breeze blows through, making the scenery outside the window faintly visible.

Window...?

I turn my head in confusion, and see a touch of gold reflected in my eyes. That familiar face is sound asleep, the corners of his lips curled up as if was immersed in a sweet dream.

MC: ...Ah.

My consciousness gradually returns and my cheeks suddenly burn up - was everything just a dream?

While I busy myself trying to cool them down with the back of my hand, the person beside me seems to wake up and hug me.

Kiro: [sleepily] Good morning... mm, why didn't Cello come to step on the quilt today...? And Apple Box hasn't licked me either...

He pats the spot behind him in confusion, as if calling the two little ones to come over.

Seeing this man be even more confused than I was, I chuckle and caress his face.

MC: Wake up. Did you forget that we landed in Los Angeles at midnight? We're in the hotel right now.

Not long ago, Kiro's new album was nominated for the Best Pop Vocal Album by the WMAs. Considering the fact that the award ceremony was close to the Spring Festival, we arrived in Los Angeles early with the intent of taking a vacation to celebrate the New Year.

Kiro: ...Oh yeah, I was pretty sleepy. [Yawns] So, how did you sleep last night?

MC: Really well. So well that I even had a beautiful....

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the sound of our gasps suddenly comes to my mind and I quickly change my description with a blush on my face.

MC: I had a very magical dream.

MC: I dreamed that we were performing on stage together... You were the guitarist, while I was the keyboard player!

MC: The audience kept shouting for an encore. During the performance, they thought we were the most popular band in the world~

Kiro's eyes widen and he moves a little closer to me.

Kiro: Then what?

MC: And then we walked off the stage, and then, and then it was over...

While its true that dreams are usually blurry, this one is so vivid that it gradually overlaps with the person in front of me, making me feel hot all over.

Kiro: Over?

MC: Over!

Kiro: [chuckles teasingly] MC, did you know you're really bad at lying? Your eyes are wandering and your face is as red as an apple. Usually when you get like this, it means...

The hand touching his chin pauses, and Kiro comes closer to me, a wicked smile on his face.

Kiro: Did I possibly kiss you in your dream?

MC: ...!

His straightforward answer makes me want to crawl under the quilt, but he latches onto my head first and buries it into his chest, laughing.

Kiro: [with lilting laughter] Okay, I'll stop teasing you now. Can you tell me more about your dream? For example, what songs did we sing? And did you enjoy being in a band with me?

MC: Of course I enjoyed it, and I remember the song we sang was also really nice, something like hum--hum hum--

The melody on my lips slowly becomes clearer and smoother, and we both seem to realize something, each of us staring at each other with wide eyes.

Kiro: Isn't that "Wonderful Day"?

MC: Ah... Now I know why I had this dream!

I excitedly pick up my phone and unlock the screen, automatically playing the video I hadn't finished watching before going to bed--

The video shows a practice room lit up by the afterglow of the sun, and a blond boy is sitting on the ground, holding a guitar and humming a tune.

His tight-fitting pure white long sleeves shirt makes him look a little thin, and his face beneath his forehead also possesses the unique innocence of his youth.

As if he was practicing, he sang acapella without accompaniment, but his singing was filled with the sounds of friction due to the old recording equipment at the time.

Even so, the passion and purity can clearly be seen in those eyes.

This was Kiro, an 18-year-old member of a start-up band, and this scene appears in this MV in the form of a memoir.

MC: Although I've searched for various old videos of yours, this is my first time seeing you practice behind-the-scenes.

MC: So I couldn't help but watch it a few more time. I didn't expect it to end up in my dream though~

As I say this, I think of something and point at the drum set behind "him" and the electric guitar on the floor.

MC: But why are you the only one practicing? Where are your bandmates?

Kiro: ...I can't remember. Maybe they hadn't come over yet, so I was just casually practicing while I waited for them.

MC: Oh, but I remember one of your bandmates' name was Pen?

He startles, as if he didn't expect me to still remember the person he'd just mentioned in passing.

Kiro: Mm, he was the guitarist for our band.

MC: Oh~ Then tell me in secret - who was better at playing the guitar, you or him?

Catching on to my teasing, he playfully raises his eyebrows in turn.

Kiro: There's no need to ask. I was the all-rounder of the band. I was just doing my duty as the lead singer so as to not steal everyone else's limelight.

MC: Wow... how bold. Your former bandmates would be furious if they knew about this.

I grin and lean on his chest, playing with the buttons of his pajamas.

MC: But this MV just reminded me that there must be many "treasures" from the past waiting for me to discover.

I pause and selfishly confess.

MC: After all, some people say that dreams are another parallel universe. So, I'll keep digging out more "materials".

MC: That way, I'd have more stories to experience with you from that time~

There is a chuckle that comes from above my head, and he takes my fingertips and kneads them absentmindedly.

Kiro: Then this treasure hunter should work hard. Maybe she'll be able to find... a super rare treasure that even I forgot about.

MC: I'll definitely work hard, but before I can gain anything new--

MC: I plan to listen to your album a few more times. Maybe I'll be able to continue my dream tonight!

MC: You don't even know how happy I was in the dream. It was my first time performing on the same stage with you. And I performed so beautifully!

The more I talk, the more excited I become, and I feel my heart pounding again like it did in my dream.

Kiro suddenly leans over and looks at me intently.

Kiro: MC, don't wait for night to come. Let's form a band now.

MC: Huh?

Kiro: Don't let it just be confined to your dream. After all, no matter how good the dream is, it'll only be a tenth as good as reality.

Kiro: And if dreams really are a parallel time and space... then I'll be very jealous of the Kiro who got to be on the same stage with you.

He pauses, and the familiar "sly grievance" appears in his eyes.

Kiro: What he has, I want too.

As he speaks, he lifts the quilt and gets out of bed from the other side.

MC: Wait! Now??

MC: Although there are still some days left before the award ceremony, we still need to get our outfits fitted and meet with various directors and producers...

For a while, I can't seem to make sense of what I'm feeling, and just report the upcoming itinerary in a daze.

But Kiro comes to my side of the bed and squats down with a smile, looking at me with bright eyes.

Kiro: Of course we have to do all that stuff, but music is a magical existence.

Kiro: It never conflicts with anything.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 2]

In the afternoon, we drive a rented sports car through the city.

Kiro: There used to be a very authentic American burger joint on this street, but later, the owner closed it down cause he wanted to enjoy his old age.

Kiro: And on that street, I used to feed a black stray dog, which was later on adopted by a kind-hearted grandpa.

Kiro: Yes, yes, and this is the spot where Carol failed to confess his love. Raymond was gloating about it and collapsed to the ground laughing [laughs].(LMAO I'M SO SORRY, CAROL)

The bright sun shines on every street corner and seems to allow me to peak into his past through a rearview lens.

I take pictures of the scenery one by one until I realize something and speak out of curiosity.

MC: By the way... You've been touring the world frequently since then, so wasn't it rare for you to come back here?

Kiro: Yeah, it was even rarer after I went to college. I usually went back to the Bay Area after our tours.

At that moment, Kiro parks the car and pulls me out to stand in front of an unopened shop.

Except for a few guitars displayed in the window, it was pitch dark inside. I look up again and find that it doesn't even have a store name.

MC: Hmm? Is this a music store? Or some kind of training institution? Why does it feel like its closed down...

Kiro: Well... it's considered one of the "strongholds" of our band.

Kiro: You're right in thinking that it's a music store, but it has never been open for business. You'll know when you go in and take a look.

He takes out a key, opens the door and walks in under my doubtful gaze.

With the sound of a switch, the room instantly lights up--

It isn't big, and everything from the floor to the cabinets is made of dark solid American retro-style wood. Various musical instruments stay in different corners as they please, but they don't look dusty and seem to be well maintained.

MC: Okay, there are a lot of musical instruments here. So many instruments, and it still isn't open for business?

Faced with my shock, Kiro bursts into laughter and reaches out his hand to brush the guitars nostalgically.

Kiro: What you see here is what we intended to use ourselves.

MC: ...Yourselves?! With so many instruments, were y'all able to use them all?

Kiro: Most of the time they'd only be used as backup or in special situations~

As if remembering the past, he vaguely lifts the corners of his lips.

Kiro: There was a time when our drummer broke his drum during a late-night rehearsal. At the time, we were in high spirits and wanted to run out immediately to find a place to repair it.

Kiro: But all the instrument stores were closed. No matter how much we wanted it, we couldn't get it fixed.

Kiro: So in order to prevent similar incidents from happening, we made a decision on the spot - we'll just simply buy a music store!

Kiro: That's how we got this "stronghold".

MC: HUH??

He smiles as he thinks about it, as if realizing now how "reckless" they were at the time.

Kiro: [chuckles] Okay, I admit that normal people wouldn't think like this.

Kiro: But we honestly thought that this idea was quite reasonable at the time, because we wouldn't have to worry about breaking stuff in the middle of night during rehearsals--

Kiro: You could just immediately grab a new one from the side and continue rehearsing seamlessly~

MC: [grinning widely] Sigh... What a bunch of music fanatics.

MC: And y'all were such "tycoons", buying music stores just because you wanted to...

As soon as I finish speaking, I realize that I seem to have touched a sore spot. The corners of his lips twitch stiffly twice.

Kiro: No, we didn't really have much income at the time, so we basically used all of my little treasury to get it.

MC: Your little treasury? What about Pen and the others?

Kiro: [pouting] Hmph... they only covered the water and electricity bills here!

MC: Hahaha, it seems like every famous individual has a past that is "unbearable to look back on"~

MC: Tell me more, tell me more!

Kiro is momentarily taken aback, and he lowers his eyes, as if caught up in a brief memory.

Kiro: Also... it feels like there's nothing special about this place. Basically, we rehearsed together, held meetings to discuss creation, or asked a nearby Chinese restaurant to deliver food for us.

Kiro: Oh, I remember there were several magazines here. A lot of our promotional pictures should be in them.

MC: Promotional pictures? No private ones?

MC: For example, when you guys went out to have fun together, didn't you secretly take "funny photos" of your friends?

Kiro stops flipping through the magazine and shrugs at me.

Kiro: That's unlikely. Aside from performances and rehearsals, we hardly ever got together.

Kiro: You'll probably have to look for it, or you could dig out one or two from my cell phone album from a few years ago.

Sensing my subtle gaze, he quickly waves his hand.

Kiro: Don't think too much about it. I've been on good terms with them and have never gotten into any fights.

Kiro: At most, there were minor disputes over music discussions, but those were more about technical matters rather than personal ones.

MC: But... it doesn't seem like you guys keep in touch anymore.

Kiro: As "former colleagues", it's normal not to be in touch, right?

MC: Huh?

Seeing my stunned expression, he smiles and leans in front of the stairs.

Kiro: How should I put this... When Mr. Lawrence formed the band with me at its center, I knew it was more than just a dream.

Kiro: It was still my job and my career, I couldn't just care about my own feelings.

Kiro: Of course, they thought so too. So naturally, we focused on creation rather than each other.

His voice is very soft, but it weighs heavily on my heart.

This isn't the band story I'd imagined it to be. It was too rational and mature, so much so that it seems to have lost the passion and purity that youth should have had.

But their band was also lucky, and in the end, stood brilliantly under the bright lights.

Kiro knew very well where he needed to go and what he had to pay for it, so he made those regrets, big and small, seem too insignificant.

But... passion isn't just for the youth, is it?

Free adults could also grab a hold of it.

With that thought, I stretch out my hand towards him and smile brightly.

MC: Hello, lead singer, let's formally get to know each other.

MC: I'm the keyboardist of our band - MC. I'm going to be relying on you to guide me.

Kiro is left stunned for a moment. He then tightly holds my hand and raises a smile that was even more dazzling than my own.

Kiro: Hello, but I would like to remind this keyboardist that you're also responsible for the harmony.

MC: Huh? Will I be able to handle it..? After all, I haven't practiced the piano in a long time...

Seeing me suddenly get nervous and stiff, he gently shakes my shoulders.

Kiro: Relax-- Although a band sounds like a professional team doing many things, it is essentially a place where everyone gets together to play music.

MC: Then do you have any piano practice sheets? I want to warm up and move my fingers.

As I say this, I walk to the bookshelf nearby to rummage through. However, the person behind me laughs and pulls me back.

Kiro: Let's not do that. I need to help you relax. So why don't you say hello to them first?

Kiro pulls me to a piano and stars playing from behind me.

He plays softly and slowly, like a sleeping kitten rolling around in the sunshine, wrapping itself up with a flick of its tail.

Unknowingly... I seem to turn into that kitten, leaning peacefully into his arms.

Gradually, he removes his fingertips from the keyboard and gives me complete room on the instrument.

I can't help but raise my hand and continue the melody at will. Amidst the light and flying notes, I meet those smiling eyes.

MC: I didn't expect to meet "Teacher Flower" again after such a long time. And his teaching methods are still just as effective.

As if he hasn't heard that title for so long, Kiro chuckles, walks to my side, and leans down slightly.

Kiro: Then, Miss Chips, do you wish to give "Teacher Flower" a reward? So that I can be more-- [sharp muffled inhale].

Before he can finish saying what he wants to, I smile and kiss him.

The music stops and is gradually replaced by our hearts beating. His hands slowly tighten around my waist and he deepens the kiss.

It's slow, lingering, laced with a hint of fruit candy.

I have a hunch that our band will be the sweetest.

After playing with the other instrument for a while, I look at Kiro belatedly.

MC: Wait, we don't have a band name yet. That should be the first step to forming a band!

Following my words, his eyes grow distant, as if in thought, and finally land on a blackout curtain--

Seems that, due to the passing of the years, the curtains have several tears and small holes. But they still are able to let the sunlight slip in and sprinkle a little "starlight".

Kiro: How about calling it Twinkle?

MC: Huh? Is it that simple?

Seeing him nod seriously, I smile and return to the piano again, playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

MC: Then this can be used as our "theme song"~

Kiro: Yeah, but since we're going to be an awesome band, there can be a little more variety to it.

Kiro picks up the guitar at his feet and skillfully strums the strings.

Once the cheerful "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" variation ends, I tentatively blink at him.

MC: How about it?

I thought that I would get some compliments, but instead he smiles and shakes his head.

Kiro: There is indeed nothing wrong with the pitch and rhythm, but we're here to play music, not take an exam or perform at a concert.

Kiro: Can you relax a little more? Don't be music's best student, be its best friend.

MC: I...

Seeming to sense my confusion, he smiles and pinches my face.

Kiro: Don't worry, "Teacher Flower" is here. I'll definitely have a way to get you completely immersed in the world of music.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 3]

In the span of the next few days, Kiro does not seem to have thought of a solution.

Seeing as we were in no hurry, we went along with our original plans of designing outfits and having dinner with some people in the industry who had made prior appointments with us.

In our spare time, we would go back to the "music store" to practice, and even put a mattress in the attic for us to lie on at any time.

MC: ...Why am I still getting it wrong even after practicing for so long?

Looking at the black and white keys in front of me, I pout and tap on them twice.

Kiro: You seem very depressed, Miss Chips. Would you like me to help you?

The joking inquiry comes from the attic, accompanied by the creaking sound of wooden boards. I turn around and find Kiro leaning on the armrest, a smile on his face.

MC: Very much so... I had originally intended to get an early start and relieve you of some of the pressure.

MC: But I realized that music arrangement and theory are much too difficult for me.

Kiro: I admit that they are difficult, but why do you need to master them?

The dazzling lights of a car happen to pass by the window, causing me to blink in a daze.

MC: Because... I want to make that dream a reality and have an awesome performance with you.

Kiro: [in mock despair] Oh, I've done it now. It seems that I've unknowingly infected you with my perfectionism and obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Although he says this, he approaches me with a smile and leans down to look at me.

Kiro: Usually you tell me to do one thing at a time, but that doesn't seem to apply to you.

MC: I...

Taking note of my stunned expression, he unconsciously caresses my cheek with his fingertips.

Kiro: It doesn't matter. I'm going to give you a doze of "strong medicine".

His left hand that he had kept hidden behind his back suddenly comes forward and sways something in front of my eyes. Upon closer inspection, I realize it is a bottle filled with wine.

MC: ...Is that wine??

MC: Is this your way of helping me relax? By getting me drunk?

Kiro: Don't worry, it won't do anything to upset your stomach. This is a wine I specially concocted to get you drunk at most.

I take a whiff and smell the sweet and fruity aroma, but finding it too strong for me, I quickly shake my head.

MC: No no no...

MC: I have no idea what I'll do once I get drunk. It would be bad if I just played things at random.

Kiro: So what if you did? Who said that music has to have a standard answer?

He walks to the table nearby and takes out two glasses, slowly pouring the wine into them.

Kiro: As a musician, I promise you - as long as you do it from the heart, your music will be given a soul the moment it appears.

Kiro: Think about it, when you happily play the notes, there'll be several little chips jumping in the air. How cute would that be?

I giggle and simply take the glass from him and drink it. The sweetness of citrus and the warmth of the liquid mixes together and slowly spreads throughout my chest.

MC: It's delicious. I never thought that the Kitchen Killer had the skills to be a bartender~

As soon as I finish speaking, Kiro slightly narrows his eyes and puts on a brighter smile.

Kiro: Right. But just now, this Kitchen Killer thought of adding another ingredient to the mix. That should make it a lot more delectable.

MC: What?

Kiro: What do you think about green apple?

As he finishes speaking, he takes a sip of the wine in his hand, then bends down and kisses me.

His breath and the wine come at the same time, and caught off guard, I subconsciously grab the lapel of his clothes.

Kiro triumphantly raises his eyebrows, then grabs a hold of my waist, and forces me to stand up and get closer to him.

Then he goes deeper and deeper, his lips and tongue intertwining with mine over and over again, along with his scorching breaths as he gently bites me.

I subconsciously raise my head to take in the air outside, but he gently latches onto the back of my neck, and forces me to look directly into those eyes.

I feel like I'm being dragged into a whirlpool by the deep sea. Helplessly, I cling to his neck and "complain" in a low voice.

MC: ...You stingy fellow, you won't even let me get in a word with you.

Kiro: [softly] Is it? Obviously, I just want to you to get a taste of the improved flavor.

MC: Lies, where is the green apple flavor?

Kiro: Well, I just finished one candy, and it was green apple flavored. You must not have been looking seriously just now. Look again carefully.

He lowers his head and takes another sip of the wine, once again taking up all of my breath.

As if he really wishes for me to taste that tangy flavor, his dexterous tongue circles around in my mouth, leaving indelible traces.

The lack of oxygen quickly causes the alcohol to diffuse into the air, leaving my body feeling hot all over as I weakly cling to his shoulders.

MC: B-But just... don't forget what we're going to do tonight...

I softly beg for mercy, but all I receive is Kiro's low laughter. He then hugs me and sits down on the piano bench.

Kiro: [chuckles] Of course I haven't forgotten tonight's plan of relaxing and enjoying everything... whether it be music or happiness.

I am unable to see his expression clearly, but from the brisk tone of his voice, I can tell he is smiling happily.

He reaches out his hand from behind me and gently touches the black and white keys.

Kiro: As long as we combine notes one after another, we can create the world.

Kiro: Such as sunshine... forests... flowers...

Kiro: Or a house... a chimney... a clothes rack...

At this instance, he pauses, raises his hand by half an inch and hovers it over the keys.

Kiro: Of course, the most important thing is-- Kiro and MC...

As soon as he finishes his sentence, the world becomes quiet and a chord blooms into my ears.

His hands jumps around the keyboard, the brisk notes converging into particles of light and shadow in my mind, like the sunlight swaying amongst the shadows of the trees.

The atmosphere becomes light and fluttery, luring people to get closer to these lights and shadows, and run with them.

So I get out from under his arms and pick up the guitar beside him, strumming the strings with a grin as he looks at me, amazed.

MC: I can create anything, right?

Kiro: Of course. You are the master of this world.

After saying that, he starts playing along with me, playing a melody as light as stepping on the clouds.

I immediately shake my head, then bend my knees and strum the guitar vigorously.

MC: No, no, I don't want clouds, I want us to roll on the lawn--

Taking note of my unhesitant request, he raises his eyebrows slightly and plays a burst of warm and playfully skipping notes, making the countless blades of grass bend down.

Kiro: Then I want the sun to rain.

As he speaks, he tilts his body to the high-pitched area, and quickly moves two keys with his fingertips. The patter of sounds fills the air.

MC: But we don't plan on taking shelter from the rain, because...

I deliberately stop strumming for a beat and wink at Kiro.

MC: We haven't had enough fun~

My body starts to dance to the increasingly cheerful melody, as if I was gleefully letting go of all my inhibitions, and I am unable to stop myself from bending down and rubbing against the tip of his nose as I pluck the strings of the guitar.

Waves of heat steam across my face, but also tempt me to indulge in this even more brazenly.

Kiro's forehead is also wet with a fine layer of sweat, and something seems to shine in his naked eyes.

Our breathing gets faster and faster as the notes flow within the melody in a simple and profound manner, making our emotions a bit explicit and leaving our mouths dry.

At some point, the intertwining sun and rain seem to stop, leaving only a lingering pattering of sounds in the air.

However, our souls still seem to be connected. I slowly put down the guitar and walk forward, following my heart's desire, and finally come to a stop in front of Kiro.

The dim yellow chandelier sways in the wind, causing the light in those blue eyes to flicker again and again.

I don't think I've ever been as exposed to him than I am in this moment. And the same can be said about him.

And just as I'm about to give in to my desire to kiss him, he lifts my chin first, and a burning hot temperature follows suit.

I drown in that deep sea all at once as I unabashedly wrap my arms around his neck to absorb the oxygen that I longed for.

But this doesn't seem to satisfy him. His scorching breath lingers on every contour of my body, and the constant numbness makes me impatiently bite his neck.

His muffled groan falls into my ears and is then followed by his palms, grasping a hold of my thighs and picking me up.

I instantly lose my center of gravity and am unable to keep myself from opening my eyes and meeting that ravenous gaze.

Kiro: There's one more thing I forgot to tell you.

Kiro: Anything that makes a sound... can be turned into a melody.

As he says this, he lays me down on the table beside me, and then kisses me hard.

He specifically picks out those sensitive spots and rubs them all over, as if wanting to amplify my senses to the limit.

The sounds of hair brushing against the wooden table, the sound of paper sticking to the skin, and the rustling sounds of a plug being pulled all fall clearly into my ears, stirring up a numbing ripple.

They sultrily and ambiguously meld together, playing a secret melody.

Kiro: [whispers sexily] Do you hear this song that can only belong to you and me?

His voice is hoarse and the corners of his narrow eyes are slightly red, obviously stained with desire.

I see myself in his eyes as though I have intertwined myself with him.

Kiro: [in a breathy voice x1] ...Why do I still feel like something's not enough?

MC: ...Even if you ask that, I still...

Our words are muffled between our lips and teeth, and the sounds mix together, making everything feel comfortable. He suddenly smiles and unconsciously moves a little closer to me.

Kiro: [x2] Then let's not stop this song.

As he speaks, he laces his fingers through the gaps between mine and presses them together on the table. Then, he leans forward and kisses me.

The lights on the ceiling intertwine with his figure, blurring my vision from time to time.

Kiro: [voice almost TREMBLING from the passion] I would also like to add more of your voice.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

Part 2: Here

#@$!^@$@^@$^*!%@*&#THIS DATE IS--#ALL I CAN SAY IS BE PREPARED FOR THE STEAMIEST SEXIEST RIDE OF YOUR LIFE #AND MORE KIRO LORE YESSSSS #ALSO CAROL GETS MENTIONED HERE FOR LIKE ONE LINE AND IT FUCKING KILLS ME ASDFGHJKL #ESPECIALLY AFTER WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT HIM FROM THE ABSOLUTE MATCH MINDS QUEST #mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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feralwritings · 6 months ago

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dissonance

part one

masterpost

word count: 2.8k

“You’re joking. Tell me you’re fucking kidding.” There is no way. There is absolutely no way. “I’m not kidding. You’re going on this tour, you have to.” She narrows her eyes, “And it just has to be with them, doesn’t it?” “Yeah,” Robin supplies, leaning forward in her chair towards Stacy, “You could literally choose like any other band.”

reader is referred to as 'reader', because in fan fictions with multiple women present, it can be hard to determine who is being written about when using the pronoun 'she' for multiple people, so therefore, reader is being used in place of a name.

Laughter echoes around the studio, being pressed into the podcast mics so that it’s a little too loud and a little too tinny, harsh on the ears.

She clicks the volume down a couple ticks.

“So, I mean-” The host chuckles, “I mean, what’s your least favorite band? Come on, you’ve gotta have one.”

There’s a silence that follows this question, a contemplative hum.

“Pssshh, I dunno,” Eddie says, the characteristic rasp of his voice moving through her headphones, “There’s like, lots of shitty music out there. But, other artists could say the same thing about our band, ya know? It’s all subjective.”

“I know,” The host presses, and there’s a hunger in his voice, “But, just throw one out.”

“There’s that one chick band,” Gareth says, and she can hear the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of him spinning his drumstick, “God, what was their name again? They’re like, literally on our label.”

“Daisy Chain,” Eddie supplies, “Yeah.”

Cold rage spreads throughout her body, frostbiting every nerve she possesses. The string she’s winding on her guitar snaps due to the pressure, flying into the meat of her palm.

There’s a breakout of laughter again, and she hears the host wheezing into the mic, “Daisy Chain? God, who’d Reader have to blow at your label to get signed?”

She rips off her headphones after that, throwing them in no particular direction. There’s still noise coming from them, but she can’t understand what they’re saying.

She doesn’t need to understand what they’re saying. She’s heard it all before, from sweaty interviewers at music festivals, to label executives, to booth technicians who call them all sweetheart and honey before insulting them.

She doesn’t need to wonder how bad this is. Her phone is already buzzing with notifications, from Chrissy, Nancy and Robin, from their manager, from Instagram and Twitter and Tik Tok, and it’s all so much, it’s all too much.

Through the flurry of notifications that are rendering her phone unusable, one pops up that makes her fucking nauseous.

from @.BandCast: hey @.dc_reader, we had a little chat about you with the Corroded Coffin boys on this weeks #BandCast, be sure to tune in! #daisychain #corrodedcoffin

She sinks onto the floor, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Great. Just fucking great. The most popular band at Upside Down Records, the label she and her bandmates had fought tooth and nail to get signed to just destroyed Daisy Chain’s reputation, all of their hard work with a few words said into some mics on an overlit, overproduced and overrated podcast that just about everyone she knows and hopes to know listens to.

Another text pops up on her phone.

Manager

Don’t say anything.

She doesn’t.

***

18 months later

“You’re joking. Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

There is no way. There is absolutely no way.

“I’m not kidding. You’re going on this tour, you have to.”

She narrows her eyes, “And it just has to be with them, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Robin supplies, leaning forward in her chair towards Stacy, “You could literally choose like any other band.”

“I don’t have any control over that,” Stacy, VP at UDR says, which is a bold-faced lie, everyone knows that she has influence at the tour agency, not only that but most people in and out of this the building are scared of her, “That’s up to the tour agency that we work with.”

“And you can’t tell them to, oh, I dunno, choose literally any other band?” Nancy is picking at her nails, barely contained rage etched into the pressed line of her lips.

Stacy’s expression changes, and she leans forward with her messy bun and her oversaturated tan and her stupid white crop top and her acid washed jeans and her fucking-

“Listen, girls,” She begins, and they all raise an eyebrow at the patronizing tone, “To be frank, Corroded Coffin is a much more lucrative band than Daisy Chain. They’re more popular, better liked and easy on the eyes-” she blushes, staring fondly at the 24x36 poster of Eddie that sits on the opposite wall, tongue out, one hand around the neck of his guitar and the other flipping off the camera, Reader wants to use it for dart practice, “and riding their coattails may be just the thing that keeps you from getting dropped from UDR. Simply put, this tour is your last chance to prove to us that signing you wasn’t a mistake. We’ve poured so many resources in getting you out of your mommy’s garage-”

“We practiced at my house that I own-” Chrissy interjects softly.

“getting your albums made and getting you on tour, and it’s high time that we see a return on our investment, don’t you think? So, you either go on this tour, or you’re done at Upside Down Records. For good. Capiche?”

“That’s like, seven discrimination lawsuits all rolled into one,” Robin muses, though she doesn’t sound shocked that Stacy is speaking to them this way. Stacy says that this is how she speaks to everyone, that there is no time for ‘flowery language’ in this industry, which is another load of bullshit, considering that she’s plenty flowery when she’s giggling and batting her eyelashes at the Corroded Coffin guys. She has favorites, that’s for sure, and another thing that’s for sure is that Daisy Chain is not one of them.

“It’d never see the inside of a courtroom, honey,” Stacy says, searching through her desk for a stack of papers, “Sign here.”

She taps her bony finger on a tour contract, and Reader stares at it, feeling an insatiable urge to set it on fire.

“Opening for a band that hates us,” Nancy says, eyes flying over the contract, reading it carefully as she can, “Awesome. So cool.”

“Oh,” Stacy says, “I forgot to mention-” she snatches the stack of papers away from Nancy before producing a seemingly identical set, “You’re both openers.”

“Wait,” Reader says, “We’re both openers? Who’s the headliner?”

Stacy’s face breaks into a grin, and all four girls lean forward in their chairs, scared yet terrified of the answer.

“Steve Harrington.”

***

When they walk out into the Los Angeles sunshine, they all exchange a look.

“So,” Reader begins, leaning up against the wall of the building, “Pros and cons. Stacy said we had a week to sign.”

“Pro,” Robin holds up a finger, “Steve. Everyone loves him, he’s on a much bigger label, everyone says that he’s so nice and touring with him could be really good.”

“Con,” Chrissy says, “Corroded Coffin.”

“When I thought we were opening for them,” Reader adjusts her sunglasses, “I was way more apprehensive. There’s an inherent power imbalance there. but since we’re both opening, we’re on more equal footing, which might make it tolerable? I mean, at least it’s not just us and them.”

“Pro,” Nancy supplies, “It might get Stacy off of our backs. Plus, it’s not like they would pull any of that shit again, right?”

“True,” Chrissy concedes, “As far as anyone knows, we’re on good terms with CC, so it’s not like there would be any open animosity in the audience.”

Which, in a sense, was true. After the podcast had aired, UDR put out statements on both bands' socials, affirming that they were on good terms and Corroded Coffin doesn’t condone sexism and that all ties with UDR and BandCast had been dissolved. Daisy Chain and Corroded Coffin had never actually spoken, exchanged fighting words or even so much as a pleasantry, only really seeing each other across the room at company parties, on separate stages at festivals, walking past the other recording in various studios.

“Okay,” Robin said slowly, her gaze shifting to Reader, “But… the podcast. They went after you specifically, are you sure that you’re okay being on the road with them?”

Reader shrugs noncommittally, “I can deal. Plus, if any of them says anything like that again I know that you’ll stab them with your drumstick, so I’ll be fine.”

Robin flashes a small smile at that, “Yeah, especially that little short one.”

“I think as long as we have as little interaction with them as possible, things will be fine,” Chrissy reasons, running a hand through her hair, “They’ve already signed on, and like Stacy said, if we don’t go on this tour…”

“Then we get dropped.” Nancy, Robin and Reader say together.

“Let’s think about it a bit more,” Reader suggests, “We have a week. Let’s try to come to a decision in a few days.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nancy says, pulling out her phone, “Lunch?”

They all murmured in agreement, setting off towards the parking lot, shoulders tight and heads full of what ifs.

***

The conference room is a touch too cold.

Robin is rocking her spinny chair back and forth, fingers drumming anxiously on the table. Nancy is stock still, staring at the opposite wall, muscles taut as piano wire. Chrissy is picking at her cuticles, glancing at the door every thirty seconds.

Reader is tugging on her earring idly, staring at nothing in particular. They’ve only been waiting for about ten minutes, but it feels like ten years.

God, she just wants to get this over with. Signing the contract, going home and beginning to prepare to leave. Packing, calling the electric company and the water company and having her mail put in a PO Box. All the things you do when you’re leaving for six months.

They’re waiting for Corroded Coffin to show up so they can sign the new contract. Stacy sits at the head of the conference table, typing away on her laptop, eyes following Chrissy’s. Her anxious energy is something entirely different, excitable. She keeps preening her hair, twisting little hairs around her face to keep them curly.

The door clicks open, and five pairs of eyes whip towards it.

There they are.

Eddie files in first, and Gareth, Jeff and Joey follow suit, all walking into the room with a certain swagger, a certain pompous sort of energy that makes Reader’s saliva turn sour. To her chagrin, her heartbeat kicks up a notch, and she takes a discreet, deep breath, willing the rage to stop spiking in her blood.

They’d only seen each other a couple times since the podcast aired, always parallel and never fully interacting, burning sort of gazes across rooms and terse smiles through gritted teeth.

Stacy got up to greet them, hugging them each individually, Eddie the longest, before inviting them to sit down.

By sheer coincidence, or by a sense of order, or organization, the four chairs across from the girls are occupied by their counterparts.

Drummers, Robin and Gareth.

Bassists, Nancy and Joey.

Lead guitarists, Chrissy and Jeff.

Vocals and rhythm guitarists, Reader and Eddie.

“Alright!” Stacy claps her hands together, drawing a thick manilla folder out, letting it fall open. She slides eight contracts across the table, inviting everyone to grab one at their leisure, “Everyone take one and look it over while we wait for the lawyers to get here.”

They all peruse the contracts, the room filled with the sound of flipping paper as they all silently read.

Reader feels a pair of eyes on her, and she slides her own away from her contract and across the table, catching Eddie looking with a politely curious look on his face.

She cocks an eyebrow at him, and he flashes a sarcastic smile at her before leaning back over his contract, wild hair falling around his face, all curls and frizz.

Once the lawyers arrive, it’s pretty cut and dry. Both bands ask their questions, get their answers, and by the time the hour is up, pens are out, poised to sign.

“So, to summarize,” one of the lawyers says, pushing his horn rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Corroded Coffin and Daisy Chain will embark on a six month tour, serving as openers for solo act Steve Harrington. The tour will begin in August and conclude in January, going from the west coast to the east, playing one to two shows in each, resulting in about fifty-two shows in twenty-six cities across the United States. In January, additional cities and dates will be discussed.”

“Wait,” Eddie said, holding up a hand, “Why would we talk about more dates in January when we’re only signing a six month contract?”

The lawyers exchange a meaningful look.

“Extension of the tour depends on certain factors.”

“Like what?”

“Factors that we are not at liberty to discuss without certain permissions from Mr. Harrington’s representation.”

That doesn’t sound good, and in spite of themselves, both bands exchange worried looks with each other.

“What does that even mean?” Reader asks, leaning towards the lawyers, brow furrowed.

“We are not at liberty to discuss it at this time. If this causes an issue that impedes you from signing the contracts, we may have to revisit this at a later time, which is unadvisable considering that tentative promotion has begun, so his fans and yours know that something is coming in the future.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Reader began, running a hand through her hair, “I just think if there’s something we need to know that could affect this tour, we deserve to be fully informed.”

“It won’t impact your performances in any way, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The younger lawyer said tersely, pressing her lips into a fine line.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, pulling his contract towards him and scribbling a messy signature.

Everyone follows suit after that, handing their contracts to Stacy. As they prepare to take their leave, someone else rushes into the room.

Alex, one of the guys who works in the promotional department. He’s got his camera slung around his neck, eager expression on his face. He catches Joey’s eye and blushes.

“Wait! Before you all go home we need to get a couple pictures. We can post them when the tour is officially announced!”

“Wait,” Reader says, alarm bells instantly going off in her head, “Like, pictures of all of us? Together?”

Alex nods, “Just some candid sorta stuff, nothing too special or flashy, just like. You all together, at the table and maybe some with you guys standing next to each other.”

Everyone reluctantly takes their seats again, posing for the camera with their stupid little pens and their contracts, and once that’s done, they’re instructed to stand against the wall for a wide, group photo.

“Can you guys like, squish in more together? And Reader, can you switch places with Robin so you’re next to Eddie? It’ll be cool if the lineup is the same on both sides.”

Reader and Robin exchange a dark look before shimmying around each other.

“I don’t bite,” Eddie says softly, so that only she can hear, leaning down the tiniest bit.

“Mmm,” Reader hums through her teeth, keeping her eyes locked on the lens, sporting the most excited smile she can muster, hoping that her eyes don’t look too dead, “Just smile and look pretty so we can get through this, please.”

She can see Eddie in her periphery tilt his head with a little grin, before turning his attention back to the camera.

“Okay, squish in a bit more,” Alex instructs, holding his camera to snap a picture, “Can you guys act like you like each other please? Can we put our arms around each other's shoulders or something?”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

She feels his arm slink around her shoulders, light pressure as his fingers dangle over her collarbone. She’s got one arm around Robin, and reluctantly, she winds her other around Eddie’s waist, hovering it over the leather of his jacket.

There’s a thrum of energy that courses through her then, and after the third or so flash of Alex’s camera, a chill shoots through her shoulder where his hand rests, and she involuntary shivers, rolling his arm off of her shoulder.

He huffs then, snatching his arm away from her entirely, and they all move away from each other, the air in the room turning cold and oppressive.

They’re all staring each other down, sizing each other up, each band wondering how the next six months are going to play out.

Daisy Chain is the first to leave, awkwardly sidling past the boys and heading down the hall, passing framed gold records, a few of which belong to Corroded Coffin, none of which belong to them.

As they burst through the doors and into the sizzling Los Angeles sun, there’s a definite stiffness in the way they bid farewell, taking their leaves individually.

Reader heads home, sitting with her car idling in the driveway for a few moments before walking in, feeling numb.

As she prepares to leave for the tour, packing, calling various people, she can’t help but feel like she’s getting herself, and her band, into something that they can’t come back from. Whatever is to happen on this tour, good or bad, there’s this inexplicable feeling coursing through her veins that the next six months might just change everything.

She packs her guitar into its case, running a hand down the strings pensively.

Whatever happens happens, she reasons. And all she can do is be a good girl, perform, and take it on the chin.

#my fic: dissonance #dissonance #my fic #band fic #bandfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #enemies to lovers #bandfic reader and eddie

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jokeroutsubs · 6 months ago

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[NEW ENG TRANSLATION] I write songs in Serbian so my grandma can understand us too: The Joker Out frontman talks about Eurovision, his origins, and Belgrade Beer Fest

original article Written by Ljubomir Radanov for Kurir.rs english translation by @moonlvster proofread by X @ klámstrákur

Even though this year's Eurovision ended a while ago, some of the participants, like the band Joker Out, are still talked about. We're referring to one of the most popular pop-rock bands in Slovenia, whose frontman, Bojan Cvjetićanin, has become a real music star. It was this great European festival that allowed his popularity to reach beyond the borders of Slovenia. Ahead of their performance at the next Belgrade Beer Fest, which will be held from the 15th until the 18th of June [2023] in Belgrade, the 24 year old of Serbian origin, otherwise a sociology graduate, talks about his Serbian origins and upcoming visit to our capital city.

This is not your first time in Belgrade?

We had our first performance at the MAC event, but this is our first concert.

What do you have planned for it?

We'll perform as long as scheduled, around an hour, plus two songs, just enough to go over the limit (laughing). We are scheduled to play for about an hour, which means we'll be able to play a good percentage of our repertoire. If the audience is quiet, we'll have to talk to them and we'll play more songs (laughing).

Will you have some time to visit Belgrade?

Unfortunately, our plan is to leave immediately, because we are to perform in Slovenia the next day. Last time, we visited commercial places, met lovely people who promised us they will show us the real Belgrade and the places that only the locals know sometime. Ask me in a year and I believe I'm going to give a much better answer.

You attracted a lot of attention with your Eurovision performance.

How satisfied are you?

Eurovision is one of the biggest festivals in Europe, maybe even in the world.

It took six months of our lives and it was like a giant school trip or a travelling circus, carried out on the most professional level. We met a lot of creative people with whom we will be able to build a career abroad. We have gained a huge amount of fans. The only thing that didn't turn out how we imagined was our result, but in the end, that's less important to us than what we achieved with the audience.

Were you pleased with the score from the Serbian jury and the audience?

I thought I was going to burst with happiness when I heard we received 12 points! It was a magical moment.

Have you stayed in contact with the Serbian representative, Luke Black?

Of course. We became friends and we will probably meet at our concert in London in July.

Did you actually lose your phone at Eurovision?

It happened after the final, at an afterparty. I left it somewhere and it ended up with another country's delegation, but I got it back two days later. Still, I enjoyed not having a phone. The day after Eurovision, everyone was writing messages and being active on social media, and I spent that time with my family and friends. It was like I was in a different universe, completely calm and relieved.

How would you explain your music in terms of genre?

In 2017, we called our music 'shagadelic rock 'n' roll', based on the movie 'Austin Powers', which we adore. Our sound is an interesting mix of ex-Yu rock and roll and British pop-rock.

Who are your idols?

The Beatles, Arctic Monkeys, and Slovenian bands such as Siddharta and Big Foot Mama, and the Balkan bands Bijelo dugme, Indexi, Idoli...

What do you listen to in terms of modern sound from these areas?

The bands Buč Kesidi, Keni Nije Mrtav... We haven't had time to listen to music in the past year, we were constantly in some kind of chaos and noise.

Where did the idea of expressing yourself in your mother tongue come from, like, for example, in the songs 'Ona' and 'Demoni', which are in Serbian?

Every time I play our songs to my family, my grandma, who is from Banja Luka, can't understand the lyrics entirely. I wanted her to be able to understand perfectly what the poet wanted to say, and that's how the songs 'Ona' and 'Demoni' came about. With the song 'Ona', we wanted to capture the essence of the band Idoli¹.

¹The band 'Idoli' was one of the most remarkable new wave bands based in Belgrade, active during the early 80's. They are considered one of the most outstanding and influential representatives of the Yugoslav rock music and their album 'Odbrana i poslednji dani' ('Defense and The Last Days') was voted as the greatest Yugoslav rock album of all time.

Your family's origins are interesting.

My mom's side is from Banja Luka and Lebane, and my dad's side is half from Ličko Petrovo Selo, and the other half from Croatia and Slovenia.

You also act and host. Do you have ambitions in acting?

I would love to act more and I would be very happy if I acted in more serious roles. I've always played characters that were similar to me and I couldn't fully surrender to the charms of this profession. In high school, I acted in theatre, and if I get the opportunity to do that again or to film a movie, I wouldn't run away from it.

How do you see yourself in ten years?

I would love for Joker Out to be an established band around Europe, to have two children, and to live a normal life.

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 year ago

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The Offering Part 3

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"I know he loves me

I know he cares

Cause he's all mine

And soon he'll be knockin'

At my door

Things will be alright"

Juicy – "Sugar Free"

Lebadi slid the fingers of her right hand over the monorail console while watching a monitor to gage the flow of traffic in the wide Birnin S'Yan street. Her left hand rubbed on the swollen belly that was ready to pop with a strange mutant's baby.

"Everything good?"

Lebadi turned her head and watched a lanky, reed-thin male co-worker saunter in to take over her shift. Mantso quirked up his thick lips and handed her a warm chocolate coffee along with a hot-out-of-the-oven seasoned meat bun. She accepted both and shifted her weight out of the chair so he could take over.

"Slow night. Thank you for this," she said.

Taking a huge bite out of the round bun stuffed with ground beef and yellow potatoes baked inside, she wiped her lips when the flavorful juices spewed out onto her chin. Mantso studied her belly.

"You are ready to burst," he teased.

"One more month."

"When does your leave start?"

"Next week."

A rumble outside the wide glass window announced the arrival of the midnight lift in the city center.

"I'll hold it for you," Mantso said.

Lebadi grabbed her sweater and waddled out of the control room taking an escalator to the surface street. Saturday nights were a busy festive time and she passed through crowds of young people out for a night of dancing and drinking. She missed doing that with her friends back home in Birnin Zana. If she hadn't gotten pregnant, she'd be attending Dora Milaje training with Okoye and going out with her crew to their favorite clubs and night cafes.

Chewing on the tender meat of the late night snack Mantso gave her, she gripped her cup of cocoa-rich coffee and sat by herself on the monorail. It was a short fifteen minute ride to her cottage nestled behind a row of luxury villas. She jostled her big belly around exuberant party-seekers and munched on her food while admiring the bright lights and music spilling out onto the public sidewalks from flashy clubs. Ten minutes later she rounded a corner that led to the opening of a quiet suburban street twinkling with tiny nightlights decorating the clipped hedges lining the path she followed. Tall rust-colored trees blotted out the noise of the main street behind her.

Approaching her home, she noticed a figure hidden in the shadows of her small porch.

"Who's there?" she blurted.

No one answered and she took a step back, cradling her stomach in a protective stance.

"I see you!" she shouted to make herself sound tough.

The figure moved toward the light of a street lamp and Lebadi sucked in her breath.

Okoye.

"It took me some time to track you down here," Okoye said, eyeing Lebadi's burgeoning midsection, "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

Lebadi entire demeanor slumped with shame.

"I'm your best friend, Lebadi. You can tell me anything in confidence and I would never judge you."

"I know…but…"

"But what? Who is the father?"

"No one you know."

"Are you still seeing this person? Are they going to support you and this baby?"

"No…I'm not seeing them anymore. This wasn't planned."

"I know it wasn't. You were supposed to be training with me."

Okoye's eyes softened. Lebadi glanced at the new shaved head that highlighted the perfectly round skull of her friend. A brand new v-shaped crimson tattoo crowned the top of Okoye's forehead. She had passed the first level of Dora Milaje training.

"Open your door. The neighbors should not hear our conversation," Okoye demanded.

Lebadi shuffled past her and onto the porch. She swiped her kimoyo beads over the door handle and stepped aside to let Okoye in first. The motion sensor lights in the living room flickered on and she hung up her sweater on the back of the door. Setting down her coffee and half-eaten meat bun on a side table, she faced her bestie full on.

"Sit," Lebadi said gesturing to a chair near the couch.

Okoye glanced around the neat cottage living room before sinking down into the chair.

"I have to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

Lebadi excused herself and went into a small hallway that led to the cramped bathroom. She closed the door and gripped her hands on the sink. She wasn't prepared to let anyone know her secret. For the past four months she had hidden in Birnin S'Yan where no one knew her or her family. She kept her interactions among family and friends purely through vid chats at low angles to conceal her stomach. She joked about eating too many meat buns that the city was famous for to explain away her plump cheeks and wide moon face. Stories were made up about being busy with work and taking advanced art classes at the University of S'Yan that rested above the cliffs overlooking the sea. Many questioned why she'd move so far away, but most assumed it was because she was disappointed about not being accepted into the Dora Milaje Corps. She let that lie fester to dampen the pleadings of returning to the Golden City.

Lebadi needed to give birth in a place where she was a stranger, and the fast pace of seaside life was the perfect hideaway. She hired a private midwife and planned to give birth at home. Beyond that she had no further plans. It all depended on what came out of her vagina in thirty days. If the child looked human, she'd give it away to the midwife to find a good home. She used a fake name in the city and no one would be able to trace a baby back to her. However, if the child came out a mutant…

She shook away the thought with splashes of cool water on her high cheekbones. Okoye would ruin all of her plans. Wiping her face with a towel, Lebadi stared at her frightened eyes in the mirror. She had saved up enough money to pay a bribe to the midwife to keep the birth off of the formal hospital registry. The only problem was that she couldn't decide what to do with a child if it came out like him.

K'uk'ulkan.

Lebadi shivered at the mere thought of him and the baby inside of her moved. She touched the spot where it kicked her. The child was strong in there. So ready to come out.

"Lebadi, are you hiding from me?"

Okoye's voice sounded more hurt than accusatory.

"Coming," Lebadi chirped.

Okoye studied her every move coming back into the living room. Lebadi took a seat on her lumpy couch adjacent to the chair and finally gazed into her friend's eyes. They were watery and her lips trembled.

"I was worried about you. I didn't know what it was, but I felt like something was wrong. I needed to see you in person and ease my mind," Okoye said.

"Now you see why I stayed so far from home."

"Having a baby out of wedlock is not shameful anymore."

"The father and I are not together. He doesn't know about this baby."

"He has a responsibility. You are from a prominent family—"

"No one will know about this child. When it is born I will give it away."

"Give it away? Are you mad? You are descended from the first family that stood by the Udaku clan when Bashenga created the nation. You have grandmothers and grandfather's written about in our history books…you cannot just give a baby away with your bloodline, Lebadi. It would be sacrilegious! A sin in the eyes of Bast."

"I cannot keep this baby, Okoye."

"Why not?"

"Because its father is a foreigner. Not a Wakandan."

"Foreigner? How?"

"He slipped through our borders."

"No one slips through our borders. Do not lie to me, Lebadi. I am your friend."

"I met him at the Mama Wati Festival. Two years ago. I fell pregnant eight months ago. We were secretly meeting here in Birnin S'Yan. You cannot tell anyone."

"This is a national security threat. I cannot sit here and ignore that. I work for the palace now. This man could be a spy using you."

"He is not a spy. There's nothing in Wakanda he wants… not anymore since he left me. I am begging you Okoye. Nothing will happen to the nation if you keep quiet about this. I am no longer seeing him. He is long gone away from here."

"How was he able to even get through our protective dome from the outside? Lebadi? Answer me!"

Lebadi burst into tears and covered her face. To not have her lover pained her heart. She struggled to regain her composure and became frantic when Okoye tapped her kimoyo beads. A sharp discomfort in her side distracted them both and Lebadi clutched under her stomach and sat back in her seat.

"Lebadi, what's wrong?"

"I'm okay…you are stressing me out and it disturbed the baby."

"Should I call your doctor? Uh..the midwife?"

"No…I am fine now."

"I'm sorry."

"Please…just leave this be. Keep my secret."

"You cannot give your baby away. If you need help, W'Kabi and I can do that. We're getting married next year…we could adopt your child and keep it close to you—"

"No."

"How far along are you?"

"Eight months."

Okoye palmed her hands together and let the tips of her fingers rest under her chin.

"You have been dealing with this all alone?"

"Yes."

Okoye lowered herself to her knees and clasped Lebadi's hands.

"I see that you're frightened. I will keep your secret, but I will return to help you when the baby comes. We're figure out what to do together. Your child deserves a good home…with you."

Okoye thumbed away the tears that pearled out from the corners of Lebadi's eyes.

"Do you need anything right now? Money? Food?" Okoye asked.

"No. I'm tired and want to go to bed."

"I will stay for the weekend and return for my training. No more keeping secrets from me. Promise?"

"Promise."

Lebadi squeezed Okoye's hands.

The moment Okoye left the cottage Sunday evening, Lebadi packed up all her clothes and called a private cab to ferry her to the marina. She tossed her kimoyo beads in a sewer run-off after telling her mid-wife that she was going home and would no longer need her services.

Lebadi knew Okoye had a good heart and wanted the best for her, but the reality spoke of newer alliances. She couldn't trust that her friend wouldn't go searching for breeches in security and ring the alarm. It was better to go away and give birth alone on the sea away from prying eyes. Telling her that the father was foreign was bad enough. It was a stupid mistake on her part.

She rented the same boat she had used for two years sneaking away to see Namor. It was an older model that most people bypassed for the sleek newer ones all over the marina. She paid for a three month rental and the woman releasing it didn't bat an eye at her condition or the crinkly bills she paid in cash from a fat purse stuffed with more Wakandan money. It took Lebadi four trips to load the boat with supplies of food, water, and things she would need for a baby. The last item she carried on board was a peach and sand-colored conch shell that Namor gifted her. She wanted something of his with her.

She set sail on a Monday evening to cloak herself in darkness, taking the boat off radar once she was past her target area to hide from any drone surveillance.

She programmed the boat to glide her to her favorite spot three miles from the coast. For three days she used radar from the boat and her own binoculars to scan for anyone coming after her. She left a month's worth of pre-programmed holo vid messages for family and select friends to keep up appearances until the baby came. Using the boat ramp, she dipped her heavy body into the water when the weather was too hot and spent most of her days lying in her berth to keep cool. She limited the use of the air-cooling system to keep traces of vibranium energy surges to a minimum in case it captured the attention of the Wakandan Coast Guard.

A pod of dolphins passed by her boat her second week out at sea and they lingered to frolic for a few hours before heading out to the growing swells. Shading her eyes with her hand, she pondered moving the boat when it was bumped by something that didn't feel like a strong wave shoving the starboard side. She tottered on bare feet to investigate if she hit a reef and was shocked to find a large orca nudging the hull with its massive head.

Lebadi held onto some rope looped around the inside of the hull to keep her balance. The orca opened its mouth and echolocation clicks bounced at her along with high-pitched whistling sounds. It snapped its mouth closed a few times making jaw claps and she ran to the control room to move the boat away from the sea creature. At a smooth twenty knots, she left the orca in a wake of white water, but it gave chase. She aimed the boat back toward land but the orca kept up and then cut her off, forcing her to head further out to sea. She white-knuckled the control console when the orca slammed itself under the boat.

Cutting her eyes to the ocean, the boat stuttered to a complete stop. The odor of something burning came from the stern. She shut everything down and checked the back. The boat belched blue-black smoke and the orca peered at her from the water with a menacing brown eye under a patch of white marking on its slippery skin.

"What the fuck did you do to this boat?"

The orca clicked and rolled its dark body upside down in the foamy turquoise waters. Before she could curse it again, it flicked its wide tail and tossed Namora onto the deck. Soaking wet, the Talokanil woman stood to her full height and sea water dripped from her feathered headdress and the jagged spear she carried. Lebadi turned away trying to hide her stomach, but Namor's cousin spotted the forbidden fruit of their union. She stuck the tip of her spear against Lebadi's stomach.

"Ba'ax le ts'íiba' utia'al?" Namora spat out from behind her breathing mask.

Lebadi nodded and stepped back from the spear. Namora lunged forward raising her spear at an angle that would slice the child out of her womb.

"Don't! Please!" Lebadi shrieked.

The harsh rays of the sun and the muggy heat draped Lebadi in an uncomfortable cocoon of dripping perspiration. Short of breath, and frightened, she urinated on herself and lost control of her knees. Namora tossed away her spear and caught Lebadi with her strong but gentle hands. Her piercing dark brown eyes were the same as Namor's.

"Yaan teen," Namora whispered in Lebadi's ear.

"Please don't kill my baby," Lebadi pleaded before the world went black and she collapsed in the Talokanil's arms.

Lebadi woke up to the delicious aroma of something being cooked in the galley. She glanced around the berth before touching her belly. The baby still protruded from her midsection and it moved when she lifted up on one arm. From one of the circular berth windows, Lebadi noticed that the sun had vanished ushering in a muggy evening calm. How long had she slept?

A soft slightly muffled humming voice drifted into her ears.

"Namora?" Lebadi called out.

The humming stopped and the sound of feet padding across the creaking floor took over. Namora entered the berth carrying a steaming bowl. Her headdress was gone and her long dark hair sat loose on her shoulders.

"Ma'lob ak'abtal," Namora said.

Lebadi nodded at the evening greeting and sat up further, grimacing at the weight on her bladder. She dangled her legs over the side and shoved a pillow behind her to support her lower back. Namora held out the bowl.

"Bix a u'uykabáa? Wi'ijen?" Namora asked.

"I'm fine…yes, I'm hungry…um…wait, you don't understand that…give me a minute."

Lebadi closed her eyes to think better. She imagined Namor being with her in the kitchen and the words came back to her. She reached for the bowl with both hands.

"Dios bo'otik, Namora."

Lebadi stirred the spoon in the bowl and chunks of chicken floated in a savory-smelling soup. Yellow rice, caramelized onion, and chopped greens from her food supply filled up the spoon. She ate the first spoonful and her tongue detected a pleasant fishy taste with the greens. Seaweed.

"Good," Lebadi said, scooping more soup onto her spoon and funneling it to her hungry mouth.

Tilting the bowl back to slurp up the liquid, Lebadi wiped her mouth after finishing the meal.

"More?" Namora said.

"You know my language?"

"Chen jumpit," Namora said holding her thumb and index finger close together. She knew a little.

"I would like more…"

Lebadi gave the bowl back to Namora and the Talokanil woman smiled beneath her breathing mask. It made her eyes light up. She returned quickly with another tasty bowl and Lebadi took her time eating it. The silence between them was pleasant enough although Namora kept sneaking glances at her protruding stomach.

"I am much better now. This food was wonderful."

Namora watched her face and Lebadi couldn't tell if there was real comprehension so she stuck with handing back the empty bowl. She followed Namora into the kitchen galley where a big pot of the soup stayed simmering.

"You eat now," Lebadi said, pointing to the stove.

Namora shook her head and turned off the burner under the pot. She cleaned Lebadi's bowl and spoon and placed them on the draining rack. Pointing a stern finger back toward the berth, Namora ushered Lebadi back to bed to keep her off of her feet. The soup in her belly calmed the baby, making her eyes drowsy.

Lebadi fell asleep.

She dreamed of home, her parents, and Okoye. Strange images intermixed surreal images of water and whales blending into amorphous shapes. She woke up to the sound of water lapping against the boat.

"Is anyone here?" Lebadi shouted.

She didn't want to be alone anymore.

"Ma' k'a'abet a yaantal sajakil, teen le."

Namora's voice traveled to her from the deck. Lebadi wiped her forehead and huffed. It took a minute longer than usual to pull herself up from the bed. She ambled over to the small restroom and let out a steady stream that relieved her screaming bladder. The extra effort used to clean her privates made her yearn for relief soon. She fumbled her left hand against the sink to help lift up from the toilet. Washing her hands quickly she returned to the berth to find Namora waiting for her. She scrutinized Lebadi's face noticing a grimace.

"Ba'ax yaan ma'alo'ob tu láakal?" Namora asked.

"Everything is alright. The baby is fine…le paalo' ma'alob," Lebadi said.

Namora looked unsure. Lebadi doubled over.

"Oooff!"

Lebadi jammed a hand against her side. A strong contraction nearly bowled her over. She squeezed here eyes shut and breathed through the pain. Namora helped her get back to the berth and made her as comfortable as possible. She ran back into the kitchen galley and rummaged through a few cupboards before running back with another spoon and a glass jar filled with honey.

"Kaab…this… for pain," Namora said.

Namora dipped the spoon inside the dark thick honey and held it up to Lebadi's lips. She accepted, and swallowed the richness taking the spoon away from her.

Namora held out her hand toward Lebadi's midsection seeking permission to touch.

"Béet?"Namora said.

Lebadi nodded and Namora unfastened the loose pale blue dress that she often wore for the Mama Wati ceremonies. Pushing the gauzy material aside revealed a heavy burden. Namora gently ran her hands over the front and sides, feeling the warm skin until she grinned.

"I want you to know I didn't plan this. My country has the best birth control…I just think my annual shot couldn't protect me from his genetics…"

Namora didn't understand and looked at Lebadi with bright eyes.

"Ch'úupale' juntúul chan paale'," Namora said, rocking her arms like she had a baby.

Lebadi blinked rapidly, recognizing the words she spoke. Her two years of rudimentary Yucatec Maya with Namor flooded her brain with comprehension.

"How do you know it's a girl?"

Namora fastened Lebadi's garment back up.

"The baby comes. I bring him here."

"Bring who here?"

"K'uk'ulkan—"

"No!"

Lebadi grabbed Namora's hands in a vice grip. Namora jerked away and her eyes narrowed.

"He must come to his daughter," Namora insisted.

Lebadi whimpered and pleaded but the Talokanil woman ignored her. Another contraction rendered her helpless on the bed. She felt the boat move as if it were being pushed. Namora called out what sounded like names and the boat moved faster. Forcing her body to get up, Lebadi lumbered out onto the deck.

Namora stood on the top of the bow with her hair blowing in the night wind. Silver moonlight illuminated her shape and that of the pod or orcas pushing the boat along a route that only they knew. Lebadi rubbed her stomach and regulated her breathing as another churning contraction shot through her midsection. Gravity helped to pull the baby down in her womb.

They arrived at a small, hidden island seventy miles away from the Seychelles Island archipelago.

Lebadi's birthing pains subsided on the trip there, but kicked back into high gear the moment Namora helped her off of the boat and into unnaturally warm waters. Namora set up a little campsite near a natural hotspring and the orcas pushed the house boat away from view on the other side of the island. There was enough non-perishable food stacked nearby and a cooling container held plenty of fresh water bottles.

Namora lifted Lebadi to her feet and moved her into the large natural pool closest to the sea where cooler water mixed in making it a comfortable temperature. The water helped offset the weight she carried and the soothing warmth helped with the contractions. Namora pulled off all of Lebadi's clothing and her nakedness felt natural as she squatted in four feet of water to relieve the pressure on her cervix.

"Why do you have that?" Lebadi asked.

Namora raised up the conch shell Namor had given her two years ago. She removed her breathing mask temporarily, puckered lips, and blew into the narrow end creating a haunting sound that gave Lebadi chills. Looking over the horizon, she glimpsed the pod of orcas shifting their bodies so that their tales were the only things visible on the water. Lebadi counted seven of them in total. Namora brought her spear over to the hotspring and stabbed it into the bottom. Lebadi gripped it as soon as another contraction struck her womb.

Namora lowered herself into the water and wiped away sweat dripping into Lebadi's eyes. She demonstrated calm breathing through her mask that Lebadi followed. The fearsome warrior seemed so protective of her. But it made sense after Lebadi thought about it more. The child inside of her was Namora's blood relative, a baby cousin. They were a family linked across the big waters and different cultures. Lebadi realized she had been a fool to think she could give birth alone at sea. She needed family with her and Namora had become that kinship. She cooed soothing words and cradled Lebadi's face to encourage strength in bearing the new life making her way through.

Lebadi tried to picture what her daughter would look like, and in the imagining, the dawning realization crept upon her. Okoye was right. There was no way she could give her baby away no matter what she looked like upon earthly arrival. Lebadi hunkered down all her weight and endured her birthing pains for another hour.

From the sea, the orcas whistled and twirled their now upright bodies in a circle. Water churned in a frothy seafoam green rush creating a mighty whirpool.

"He comes," Namora said.

Namor shot out of the water and flew so high in the sky that Lebadi had to squint to track his form against the blinding sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat and hot tears blurred her eyes as the baby moved further into the birth canal.

Namor swooped down from the blue skies and took in the picture before him. She began to ugly cry feeling so bad for herself. He floated down, the wings on his feet whirring rapidly. His spear dropped onto the sand and he floated closer until he settled onto the ledge of the wide pool of warm water. Namor's brow furrowed and he stared at her struggling in the warm liquid until his features softened with the glimpse of her belly. His facial expression could not fathom the truth of what was coming. Lebadi watched his confusion transform into full understanding and acceptance once the side of his mouth quirked up into a slight grin. Pulling Namora's spear out of the sediment under the water, he tossed it and moved behind Lebadi, his strong arms surrounding hers, helping her squat better. Namora removed her mask and dove under the water to tend to Lebadi's stretched vaginal walls.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" Lebadi cried into his neck.

"Shh…Lebadi, I am here. Push…"

"I didn't want to hurt you…you lost children when they grew old and I know you don't want that pain anymore."

"Hush."

She couldn't stop crying and apologizing. He kissed the side of her temple and held her lovingly. His hands reached under the water to feel her stomach and he chuckled at the size.

"It's a girl," Lebadi whimpered, slowly relaxing into his presence once more.

He stroked her forehead and hair, kissing her cheek repeatedly, his strong body giving her the momentum and strength to bring life into the world.

"I love you both," he whispered before nuzzling her cheek.

Namora rose up, gasping from the foreign air.

"She is almost out."

Namora dove back down and Namor encouraged Lebadi.

"Push…in yucanaj…push…" he said. "Ma' a faltará mix ba'al…understand? You will want for nothing. Neither of you."

A contraction rippled down from her womb into her vaginal opening. Lebadi peered at the top of Namora's head under the water, her hair flowing with the swoosh of the current adding more water into the balmy liquid. She strained with all her might to get those lower muscles to cooperate with her will, and they did. The fullness was expelled from between her legs in a rush of newborn liquid as a little caramel brown and yellowish vernix body with a head full of satin ebony waves burst free from Namora's hand and floated to the surface attached to her umbilical cord. Water washed over their daughters face and she squirmed in the clearness as it cleaned away the blood and creamy protective vernix on her skin. Namora rubbed away the slippery coating and the baby's skin was even more brown and beautiful.

Lebadi reached for the baby and lifted her to her breast and immediately the child gasped and struggled to breathe. Her skin turned ashen and before Lebadi could nuzzle her nose onto the little face, the baby girl stopped moving. She never opened her eyes once.

"No!" Lebadi cried out "Nonononononoooooo!"

She wept uncontrollably as Namora checked the baby's neck. Namor remained silent as he touched the little limbs, lifting her hands and feet. There was webbing between the tiny fingers and toes and the small budding of wings on her precious ankles. She even had his pointed ears.

"Why would Bast do this to me? Bring me this far only to take our baby away?" Lebadi lamented.

Namora reached for her breathing mask and placed it on her face again. Lebadi cradled her nameless baby girl against her breast. Her nipples leaked milk and the absurdity of that action threw Lebadi over the deep end. She closed her eyes and wallowed in sorrow.

Namor touched his daughter, wiping away vernix from her nose, checking to see if anything obstructed her nostrils or mouth. He placed his mouth over the child's mouth and blew air into it as Namora pinched her button nose closed. That didn't work to stimulate breathing. They even tried rubbing her chest for light compression to get the baby's heart to pump. He used the warm water to clean her soft hair and Lebadi lowered the small body under the water feeling miserable and lost.

Namor's chest shuddered and he exhaled a long drawn out breath.

"It will be okay, Lebadi. Maybe we are too different to produce a healthy child."

Lebadi whimpered and his body trembled against her sharing the loss.

"This is cruel. If I had to lose a baby, it should've happened before I held her. Why couldn't I miscarry in the first trimester? Why…?"

Lebadi's voice drifted into a mournful wail and Namor held her tighter until the sun moved from over them. Namora tapped Lebadi's shoulder and softly spoke Talokanil. He translated for her.

"We should bury her now so she will be at peace," Namor said.

"Not yet…please…I need more time."

The cord had been cut an hour earlier and Namora did her best to be respectful and discreet when she buried the afterbirth. The baby had lost more color and her skin began to turn gray.

"Her skin still feels warm and soft," Lebadi said.

"What name should we give her?" Namor said with sadness in his throat.

"Lewatle. Her father came to me from the ocean, and the ocean is where she will return."

Lebadi glanced at Namora.

"I don't want her buried on land. I want you to take her into the water…far below. I will give her to Mama Wati."

Namor translated the words again and then flew up out of the hotspring carrying Lebadi and Lewatle to the edge of the island shore. Although weary from giving birth, Lebadi willed herself to walk into the water carrying her baby. Namor and Namora walked at her sides as the water licked at their feet and rose up to their waists. Lebadi clutched Lewatle to her breast.

"Mama Wati, please take care of my child. I am a child of the sea, just like my grandmother and her grandmother before her. I offer you my little one who could not survive this journey. Please care for her as you have cared for my people for generations. May her spirit live on with you…"

Lebadi's voice trembled and she stopped speaking to the waters. The pain of her grief became unbearable and she handed the baby to Namor. He tucked his daughter into the crook of his arm, then bent over and kissed her forehead. Lebadi fell to her knees in the water. Namor lowered himself to join her. She gathered up the baby one last time.

"Be good for Mama Wati my sweet little girl…"

Lebadi lowered her head to smell the baby's hair and the water surrounding them rose higher in a swirling mass.

"Are you doing this?" Lebadi asked.

Namor shook his head and Namora rushed forward, her gaze studying a wave of water rising from the sea. They all moved backward toward the sand, but the swell corralled them and snatched the baby from Lebadi's arms. She screamed and clamped a hand over her mouth. A water funnel lifted the baby above their heads. For a heartbeat they all witnessed the shimmering, glassy water take on the pulsing shape of a giant manta ray that formed into a watery woman with blue-black fluid locs radiating from her head holding the baby in dark azure arms before dissolving into warm salty rain falling on top of their heads. Lewatle floated gently under the water, her tiny limbs flailing and her eyes wide open. Lebadi lifted the baby and the child gasped, choking on the air. Quickly dropping onto her backside, Lebadi held the baby to her breast under the water where the child latched onto her nipple and suckled.

"Mama Wati claimed her and spared our baby's life!"

Lebadi stared at Namor who stood bewildered. Namora laughed and clapped her hands together. Namor knelt beside her and caressed Lewatle's head.

"She is like your people, Namor. Can't breathe on land. A true child of the sea," Lebadi said.

He lifted them both up again and placed them back into a shallow hotspring where the baby nursed underwater as Lebadi sat and breathed above it.

"How will this work?" Lebadi asked.

The grateful thrill of having a live baby once more gave way to worry. Namor stared at his cousin. Namora put her hands on her hips.

"They can live with me," he said.

"Not in Talokan," Namora said with sadness straining her voice.

"I can't separate mother and child. Lebadi and Lewatle will live in my cavern. My child is a mutant, see?"

He touched the buds on her ankles that unfurled tiny wings.

"She may eventually learn to breathe air too, but it is safer to keep them hidden near Talokan until we see what she becomes as she grows," he said.

Namora nodded.

Namor sat next to Lebadi and hugged her with one arm, watching his child nurse and his woman relax into returned motherhood.

"Your offerings into the sea gave our daughter her life back," he said with wonder in his voice.

"Mama Wati heard me and blessed us. She will look over Lewatle now."

"As soon as you are strong, I will take you to the place where I live away from our capitol. There is a pool entrance that I use that we can convert into a living space for the baby. The water is warm for your comfort and shallow enough in parts for you to walk in as the baby swims. I can't lie…this may be difficult for you. I have crossed a line having a child with a surface dweller."

"Will your people try to kill me again?"

Namora climbed into the hotspring with them.

"No one will harm you," Namora said.

"My people may try and look for me. I don't want them to think I'm dead."

"They will have to believe that. Lewatle can never go to Wakanda. Even if you created an environment for her near the sea, she is too different to pass among your people," Namor said.

Lebadi held her daughter's hand and shifted her body to allow the baby to sleep on her chest covered by water.

"I didn't mean to give you a hard life, Lewatle," Lebadi whispered.

Namora brought over a thick blanket and made a soft floor bedding in the hotspring. They had to place heavy rocks down on the four corners to keep it from floating away. Lewatle slept below the surface on her back, and Lebadi gazed down at her daughter's form as light dappled across her round face. Namor stroked the swirling hair of his child. He was proud, but a somber energy shadowed him.

Namora spoke to Namor quickly and removed her mask, spooning around the infant.

"Come," Namor said, "you must rest. Namora will sleep with our baby and wake you in a few hours to feed her again."

The calm in his voice made it easier to leave her newborn's side. She was exhausted and flooded with mixed emotions. Birthing a mutant child that could only live in water became a stressful mindfuck.

Namor made them bedding only a few feet away from the hotspring and they faced one another. He kept stroking her damp hair and wiping tears from her eyes. They didn't speak, only gazed at each other in total wonderment. There was a bloodline connection between them.

Lewatle's hungry mouth fed from Lebadi as the new mother walked in the calm sea. Every few minutes she dropped under the water holding her breath so her baby could see her face clearly. Lebadi was blessed with the ability to hold her breath for six minutes because of her surfing skills and she used it to bond as best she could underwater. She rubbed her nose against the baby's nose, kissing her cheeks and forehead, and Lewatle laughed with bubbles near her mouth, her bright ebony eyes tracking every movement Lebadi made with her head. Lewatle was strong and quite adept at swimming on her own. Lebadi wondered if it was a evolutionary trait of Namor's people, much like baby giraffes and newborn impala fawns in Wakanda that had to walk soon after birth to avoid predators. The webbing on her fingers and toes gave the baby graceful movement the few times Lebadi let her go to test her swimming abilities. No matter where she moved underwater, Lewatle swam close to her, automatically reaching for her breasts to suckle and stay protected in her arms. There was no sense of helplessness. She assumed all Talokanil children were that way at birth.

Fear gnawed at her insides.

Could she leave Wakanda and never return?

She adored her family and hiding in Birnin S'Yan had been the hardest time in her life after finding out she was pregnant. As much as she loved Namor, she worried that homesickness would break her spirit if she went to his world. Looking down at Lewatle, her own personal concerns vanished for a time. The baby was physically like her father and could only survive with his people. She had to do what was best for Lewatle.

Namor eased along her side and she handed the baby to him. He dunked under with Lewatle and stayed down for a long time, allowing Lebadi to tread water peacefully with the sun baking her face a darker brown. Namor cradled his little one and bonded in the sea with her. No…she couldn't stay in Wakanda. She had to go with him to give their daughter her best life.

"You are a good mother," Namora said.

Lebadi glanced over at Namora. She looked young without her headdress. Namor told her that his cousin was twenty, but she acted much older, her warrior spirit giving her the presence of an elder instead of a young woman.

"It's only been one day."

"One day is a good day. This baby is not like his others."

"The others weren't mutants?"

Namora shook her head.

"I think she will live a long time. Maybe as long as him. He is happy," Namora said watching the shape of Namor swimming with Lewatle below the surface.

Lebadi leaned back and floated, staring up at the sun. Namora brought her fruit and fresh water after a time and she left the water to rest on land, sunbathing and taking naps. Namor brought Lewatle to her inside the hotspring for a late afternoon feeding.

"I will have Namora go to Talokan and bring things we need to move Lewatle to the entrance of our home. We will destroy the boat you came here with, but you may take what you need from it."

"Can't we just bring the boat? We could use it for me. I can't stay in a cave all the time. I need a life above the surface or this won't work," she said.

Namor thought about it.

"We may be able to fix it," he said.

"I think the orcas damaged the bow thrusters. There's a self-diagnostic module on the boat and I can use it to help repair it. I have to keep it in a secret place—"

"Because of the vibranium."

"Yes."

He pondered that.

"We could change the boat to accommodate the baby so you can be outside with her away from other surface dwellers."

"We can make a life together."

He kissed her temple. "Yes, we can be together as a family."

The mottled gray leviathan rose from the deep and Lebadi gasped watching the fifty-foot female humpback whale breach the surface near her house boat. After a week of recuperation and adjusting to raising Lewatle on the small archipelago, time had come to travel to her new life.

She'd left a cryptic message to her family about needing more time alone to get her life together and recorded a series of vids using the houseboat's comm system to send out a monthly schedule of recordings. Lebadi had four older siblings and her parents held important positions in the Udaku Royal Court. No one would be alarmed by monthly vids from her with their hectic schedules. She had at least seven months of physical vanishing time before anyone would become truly alarmed. Unless of course, Okoye interfered. There was no time to weigh the possibility of that.

Namora fussed with the baby, making sure she was secure inside a baby carrier made of slippery neon blue seaweed and soft cloth. Namor helped tie the carrier tight on Namora's back. Lebadi filled bottles with her milk on the boat with her breast pump and stuffed them in a bag attached to Namora's hip. Namora would ride inside the whale's mouth with the baby guarded by the two orcas through a series of underwater vortexes that would lead them to Namor's hidden enclave. Two young male warriors waited to accompany Namora on the outside of the humpback, one of which wore a large hammerhead shark crown on his head. His name was Attuma and Namor treated him like another relative. Attuma stared at Lewatle in the water with such fascination that he lost all pretense of being a menacing-looking threat. He touched her fingers and toes and laughed when she tried to grip his hand.

From the deck of the boat Lebadi watched the whale open its maw and fill it with enough water to look like a small pond. Namora dove inside with the baby on her back and for a split second, Lebadi's legs buckled.

Her baby rested inside a whale's mouth.

Attuma and the other warrior faced Namor from within the sea and held their hands up like a shark's mouth. It was the same gesture she witnessed before two years previous when they honored their sacred K'uk'ulkan.

Lebadi held onto Namor's arm as the whale swam further out to sea and dove under with the men on either side holding on to the barnacles embedded in the marine animal's flesh. It waved the giant tail like a farewell, exiting with an explosive splashy wake.

"Ready?" Namor asked softly.

"Yes," Lebadi answered with bated breath.

"Go sleep. When you awaken, we'll be with our daughter again."

Lebadi walked inside the boat and crawled into her berth. Namor activated the spectral camouflage cover to hide the houseboat, and within seconds, there was the sensation of rising up in the air. Lebadi could only imagine what a sight he must've been, flying with the houseboat on his back. The ebb and flow of air pockets created light turbulence on their journey rocking her to sleep. At least three times she woke up checking her swollen breasts dripping with milk, expecting a feeding.

Her rest took a full hold and her sleep was untroubled. A waning moon greeted her eyes through a window as Namor woke her up.

"We are here. You will have to hold your breath to get past the barrier. The houseboat is hidden safely and my attendants tell me Lewatle is well, waiting for us."

"Thank Bast and Mama Wati," Lebadi mumbled sitting up.

She swiped a hand over her twisted hair, thankful for the sleep that refreshed her energy.

"You are shaking," he said, reaching for her hands.

"I'm nervous…a little scared. The opening looks like a snake's mouth."

Namor embraced her, helping to calm the jitters coursing through her body.

"It will be a new world for you, but the only one Lewatle will know. We must be brave to guide her. I'm nervous too."

"You?"

Lebadi pulled back from his chest.

"You've been a father before," she teased.

"Every child is special and different, but Lewatle is a miracle. A precious gift. This time will be strange and wonderful for me too."

His expression was tinged with nervous energy. They were embarking on a momentous experiment raising a unique baby.

"Do you feel strong?" he asked.

She nodded.

"How long do I need to hold my breath?"

"Four minutes."

"Easy."

"We will go to a depth you may not be used to, so don't panic. I will carry you to get there quicker. Without me, it would be impossible for you to get there on your own without having to hold your breath longer. Come."

He carried her in his arms while flying off the boat. They drifted down into night water. Three Talokanil men anchored the houseboat under a canopy of tropical foliage that blended it with the surrounding lush topography.

They all swam above the surface hidden by drooping vines and tree leaves the size of elephant ears. Their only light was the small lamps they held that glowed a turquoise blue filled with vibranium energy. The small entrance to his world looked like a tiny pool of inky black water. Lebadi breathed harder.

"Put your arms around my neck," Namor said.

She hung them loosely at first until he pulled her tight against his chest. The shine from the lanterns glowed in his eyes. The low covering of the cave entrance caused a claustrophobic reaction to kick in with all the intimidating darkness that the lamps couldn't illuminate.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, kissing her lips. "Think about Lewatle. She can't wait to be with us again."

Lebadi's eyes welled up thinking of her baby mermaid.

"Do you think she can hear my voice under the water? I press my lips against her cheek and say her name. Will I ever be able to hear her call me Mama?"

Namor rested his forehead on her temple.

"She knows her mother loves her just by feeling the vibrations you make under the water. She can hear you above the water and she has always known your voice when she was swimming inside of you."

Lebadi grinned and wiped away a tear.

"I'm ready," she said.

He nodded and she gulped in air, slamming her eyes shut and pressing her face into his shoulder. The temperature of the water dropped after fifteen seconds, but Namor's body heat stayed constant and she was warmed by it. Pressure pushed in on her ear drums and she focused on the sensation of colder water rushing over her body. There was a steep drop and right when the strain of needing more air took hold, they flew up into what looked like a small beach inside of a wide open cave.

Soft sugary white sand met her feet when Namor put her down. She followed him past a wondrous enclosure of stalagmites and stalactites. The long icicle-shaped deposits of limestone and calcium carbonate glowed the same neon blue Lebadi recognized from her home.

"Oh…my goodness…"

Her eyes nearly popped out walking through another part of the interconnected cave system that felt like a warm cozy sauna filled with giant glow worms that wiggled their bioluminescence, illuminating the mural-sized paintings that depicted the life of the Talokanil.

"Is that you?" Lebadi asked, stopping in front of a mural where a young boy a floated above kneeling people. Namor nodded, and her eyes followed the story of the ascension of K'uk'ulkan to the throne of Talokan.

All sorts of creatures in stylized Mesoamerican images decorated wall after wall as she walked holding Namor's hand. Her eyes grew even wider realizing that her idea of cave-dwelling was vastly incorrect. Each cavern gave a palatial feel, and she could only speculate at the grandeur that Talokan must've been twelve thousand feet down below in the depths of the ocean. Whatever imaginings she held about perpetual darkness hiding from the surface world was erased.

A gust of cooler air wafted down in another connected tunnel and when her eyes adjusted to that section of the cave, she clearly saw the shapes of tall trees growing high above nearly reaching the opening at the top that let in the light of the moon. Attuma held up his lamp and Lebadi recognized the shapes of abundant fruit growing from the branches.

"Almost there," Namor said, squeezing her hand as they entered a new well-lit area that felt more like the vestibule of a grand manor.

Two female attendants wearing pale peach-colored dresses waited for them. One held a garment across her arms, and another held a small round cup made of jade. They lowered their heads to Namor. He took the cup and bid Lebadi to drink from it. The warm, sweet liquid had a slighty chalky aftertaste that reminded her of cocoa powder.

"This is what our women consume after having a newborn. It helps with the milk and gives the mother strength," Namor said.

The attendants led them to a majestic room with smooth polished walls decorated with exquisite blood-red shells and pictures depicting an extraordinary underwater city.

"Is that Talokan?" she asked.

"Yes. It is the capital city…and there, in that structure, is my throne room. Here, change into this and I will meet you right outside. They are going to summon Namora to bring Lewatle."

He kissed her cheek and left her holding the thin coral gown. Looking around the room she marveled at a low platform bed covered in a soft orange blanket. She pulled off the blue covering that she wore leaving only her panties on. The new dress went down to her ankles and supported her tender breasts well.

Namor returned.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you. Is this your bedroom?"

"Yes."

"It's lovely. Peaceful."

He held out his hand for her and she clasped it, eager to see their child.

They passed by shelving housing ancient books and rolled up maps on old faded yellow parchment. Another section held an unfinished mural and her wandering eye caught sight of something that halted her steps. It was a mural of an ancient map of the southern hemisphere and Wakanda was outlined in gold and vibranium. Namor pulled her along and the smell of seawater became pungent. The glow of cerulean blue water lapped at damp sand inside a vast room that appeared to be a comfortable living area circling the pool of hypnotic liquid. They stood together at the edge, and the water surface stirred. Namora emerged pushing a floating baby bassinet that rested under the water. Lebadi released Namor's hand and rushed into the pool, splashing water everywhere to get to her little one. She burst into tears lifting her daughter and allowed her body to sink down into the luxurious warmth, pulling away the top of her dress to feed Lewatle. The baby squirmed and then settled in her arms.

"Thank you…thank you!" Lebadi said, reaching for Namora's arm and holding it.

Lebadi could barely get her words out as relief spilled into her.

"She did well?" Lebadi asked.

Namora smiled and patted Lebadi's hand.

"She slept all the way," Namora said.

Namor jerked his head and the attendants walked into the pool moving the water bassinet near the edge and mooring it to the sand with heavy iridescent sea crystals. Namora slipped away and changed into dry clothing that matched the color of the attendants.

Lewatle fell asleep in Lebadi's arms and she rocked the baby until Namor approached her holding a small mask that resembled the ones all of the Talokan wore on the surface.

"Let me see if this fits her," Namor said.

He knelt down and slipped the breather over Lewatle's face. The baby fussed and shook her fists, but quickly settled back down, becoming accustomed to breathing in a strange way above the water.

"You can feed her in the water and bring her out when you are done. She will sleep here and everything you need will be brought to you. I will go down to Talokan and inform leading elders from far and wide that an heir has been born," he said.

"Will you take her down there?"

"Not yet. I want you both comfortable first."

"Do all of your people know about me?"

"Only the ones Namora brought to your boat two years ago."

"They will be angry…feel betrayed. You hate us. How can you have a child by an enemy?"

"You are Wakandan. I do not see you or your people in the same way as the others. Our people are too similar. I'll explain it to my elders and our nation. It will be easier to accept once they see my child. She is a reflection of me."

"Will you paint her on your walls?"

"Of course. I will paint you there too. It is possible that you and Lewatle can be a bridge of eternal peace between our nations one day. United by blood and understanding of who our real enemies are."

Namor helped her stand, and Lebadi accepted a small baby dress from an attendant to clothe Lewatle in. It finally turned somewhat normal to hold her baby on land freely.

Lewatle's eyes held Lebadi's gaze and she smothered the baby with kisses. Her daughter's smile from under the breather made her heart swell. She sang a Wakandan lullaby and rocked the baby while walking around the living area. Very little furniture was present, and the pieces that did decorate the space were simple and colorful: A few small tables holding statues of Yucatec Maya gods. A simple set of low stools surrounding a small hearth where a pot of food simmered over a low fire. Lebadi sat there for a moment to watch the bubbling mixture. Her thin dress dried quickly and the dampness against her skin evaporated.

Namora brought Namor a bowl of steaming fish stew from another cooking area beyond the hearth, and he shared it with Lebadi sitting on the other stool, feeding her with a wide scooped golden spoon, pampering her every need. The stew had lots of red pepper flakes and small, soft seeds with bright green slivers of onion that tasted sweet in the lightly salted broth. She didn't know what kind of fish she ate, but it was cut in thick flaky chunks.

Namor gave her a long piece of red cloth and Lebadi tied Lewatle to her back with it. She followed him around for another tour of his private respite away from his people. Old relics from the past dazzled her eyes and she became enthralled with the history lesson he gave her about his part of the world. When Lewatle whimpered from hunger again, she returned to the pool and Namora showed her how to clean the baby and pointed to where she could use the restroom herself. There was a bacteria the Talokanil placed in the water that fed off of the urine and feces from their waste release and Lebadi was happy to know that she would never have to worry about diaper cleaning. They gave her little cloth strips to put on Lewatle, and when they were soiled, the women dropped them into a closed off part of the cave away from the main body of water. The bacteria ate away the waste material and the diaper was pristine again in an hour or so.

Once Lebadi became weary from the feeding, Namor led her to his bedroom and held the baby. She crawled onto the soft cover and he snuggled next to her, adjusting Lewatle's breather making sure it was secure.

"Today was a long day for you both. Sleep. You are home now," he said.

Lebadi drifted off into bliss.

"Lebadi, the elders are coming."

Lebadi climbed down from a papaya tree. She shifted the netted fruit bag around her shoulder and faced the fearsome warrior woman.

"Do I look okay?"

"Teech ka wilik ma'alob," Namora affirmed in the positive.

Lebadi handed Namora her bag of cave fruit and smoothed back the new sleek twists she palm rolled her thick hair into. Her long orange over-the-shoulder dress was adorned with shells and beads that once belonged to Namor's mother. She scurried behind Namora through the twists and turns of the cavern, her sandaled feet slapping against the cave floor until she met Namor standing poolside.

Dressed in his full king's regalia with a feathered serpent crown, he held Lewatle in the crook of his arm swaddled in the colors of royalty. All she could see of the baby was a head full of glossy black curls that became thicker in texture after the three weeks they had been living there. Tiny gurgles came from behind her small breather and the bundle moved in Namor's arm as if the baby were anxious. Three attendants carefully smudged the air with hand-sized incense cones. Tendrils of smoke created a hazy yellow atmosphere with the cloying scent of purple sage and cinnamon.

"Stand behind me, Lebadi. I want them to see our child first," Namor said.

She did his bidding and watched the pool water churn as shadowy figures came into view below the surface. Lebadi leaned into Namor's back as thirteen mature-looking individuals climbed out of the water in full feathered headdresses dripping with ropes of vibranium jewelry draped around their blue arms and necks. Five men. Seven women. She recognized an individual that could've been non-binary that happened to be the eldest one standing in the center. Water dripped from their bodies but that didn't cool the flames of curiosity in their eyes as they peered down at the small wonder in Namor's arms.

"Lela' in waal," Namor said holding out the baby with pride in his tone.

Namora slinked over to Lebadi, and her presence helped relax the tight knot in her stomach.

"Bix u k'aaba'?" the non-binary elder asked.

"Lewatle," Namor answered.

He reached back for Lebadi's hand and pulled her forward.

"Lela' u na' in waal…Lebadi," he added.

The elder stepped forward and looked Lebadi square in the face. Their gaze came across intimate, as if they were trying to see into her soul. The attempt to assess what kind of person Lebadi represented ended as Lewatle gurgled in her father's arms, her fingers grasping at the air.

"You were willing to stay here and never see your home again?"

Lebadi tilted her head with surprise. The elder spoke fluent Wakandan.

"You know my language?"

"We know many languages," another male elder piped in from behind.

"These are the governors of the twelve cities of Talokan. Chacc is the vessel that holds our spiritual connection to our ancestors," Namor said, staring into the face of the non-binary elder with kind eyes.

Chacc glanced at Lewatle.

"May I?" Chacc asked, gesturing toward the baby.

Namor handed Lewatle over and Chacc cradled her against their chest with tender affection. They turned to the other elders who circled up to study Namor's heir.

"She is just like him," an elder woman said, her blue face lighting up with amazement.

They touched the webbing in her fingers and toes and lightly stroked the tiny wings on her ankles that made Lewatle bubble with laughter that echoed around them, forcing laughter from some of the other elders. The pointed tips of her ears completed their inspection.

"She is the color of the sacred ocean jasper," one of the elders said in awe.

Lebadi looked down at her child from over their shoulders. Lewatle's skin tone rested in the middle of her parents, a perfect blend of Black and Brown.

"Her name means 'Ocean' in Wakandan," Namor said.

"Why did you hide this from us?" Chacc asked.

"He didn't know about her…she was not planned. I tried to prevent anything like this from happening, but Bast and Mama Wati had other plans," Lebadi said.

"Bast and Mama Wati?"

"Those are her people's gods, Chacc. One of them saved our daughter. When she was born, the air above took her life. But it was returned because she is one of us," Namor said.

Chacc carried the baby over to Lebadi and bounced her gently in their arms.

"You are human and cannot live in our capitol. Lewatle will be raised Talokanil. Do you accept that? She will learn your mother tongue as well as ours, but she will never be Wakandan. Not the way you may like," Chacc said.

"I have accepted that she will live here, but you are wrong. She is Wakandan too. I will teach her about my people, and one day…maybe… she can see my world—"

"Never!"

A middle-aged looking male elder eased next to Chacc. His headdress was made of the long-spined sea urchin.

"Usukan, watch your tone with her. She will become my wife. Address her with the same respect as you do your K' uk'ulcan."

Usukan and the others jerked their heads to stare at him the same way Lebadi did.

"Forgive me…I am only pointing out the obvious. Lewatle can never interact with those people, K'uk'ulcan. The child is royalty, a deity in her own right. Blood of your blood. Flesh of your flesh. She bares all the markings of your lineage. This child belongs to Talokan."

Namor held up his arms and Chacc placed Lewatle back where she belonged. He turned to Lebadi and gave her their baby. The other elders lowered their heads, understanding without words that the child was hers too. Wakandan.

"I will tell the people in three days that I have an heir. You were summoned here to meet her first so that you may prepare all the cities for a celebration."

A small woman wearing a crown of sea stars, who refused to look at Lebadi from jump, raised up her voice.

"When will you marry the surface dweller?"

"Her name is Lebadi," Namora said.

The other elders gave the small woman and two other men who shared the same grim faces furtive looks of discomfort. No one wanted to anger Namor.

"Yes, Namora…Lebadi. I ask again, when shall this union happen, K'uk'ulkan?"

Namor took a step forward and glared at them all.

"When she tells me she is ready, I will tell you."

Chacc glanced at Lebadi.

"Is this something you would like to happen, Lebadi?" Chacc asked.

"We haven't talked about it. Right now, we're bonding as a family. But I love him," Lebadi said, ducking Namor's direct gaze and circling her toe in the sand. Her face became warm and her stomach shivered.

Chacc nodded and lowered their head. All of the elders held their hands up in their way of supplication.

"Líik'ik Talokan," they said in unison.

Namor pointed to Lewatle, and his eyes bore into the faces of the three elders who were less accepting. All of the elders lowered their heads again and repeated, "Líik'ik Talokan."

Namora lunged forward and pointed at the disgruntled elders.

"You will tell our people what you saw here and you will say her name with reverence. Our K'uk'ulkan has been alone for a long time. You may have wished for him to marry one of our women, but he fell in love with her, and she gave him a child who may bring him peace for himself. Do not be selfish and darken her name because you wanted him to unite with your daughter, Usukan…or yours Ixchel—"

"Namora," Namor cautioned.

Namora sauntered even closer to the trio she addressed.

"I will hold my tongue, K'uk'kulkan…but my spear will not be so obedient if I hear of any evil words spoken against my little cousin."

Namora returned to Namor's side and her entire body stayed coiled and ready. She locked eyes with Lebadi and nodded her head toward her. Lebadi felt sorry for anyone who crossed Lewatle's big cousin.

"You may leave now," Namor said in Talokan once more.

Chacc gave Lebadi a warm smile and followed the others back into the water where their skin turned back to the natural brown of their foremothers and forefathers.

"Do not worry, Lebadi. Chacc will set the others straight. They have seen that I have produced my likeness in female form. Lewatle will be exalted among our people," Namor said.

He stroked her cheek and palmed the curve of Lewatle's head. Lebadi walked into the water and lowered the top of her dress and removed the breather for the baby. It became a long feeding and she was able to think about her reception from the elders. She trusted what Namor said.

Namora swam up to her and watched her feed Lewatle.

"They will accept her," Namora said. "His word is law."

Namora checked for Namor who had taken off his crown and gone off to add more scenes to his growing mural.

"How long has he been alone, Namora?"

"Since my grandmother was a child. Our family is large, but he is the only one of his kind. Lewatle…she is important to him. I feel his love for her…so strong. I know he wants you to be his wife."

"This is all so fast. I'm still trying to get used to her."

"Do you truly love him?"

Namora's eyes were shiny. She tread in water up to her neck.

"I do."

"Then I ask that you marry him. He will cherish your life for as long as you live and he will have Lewatle by his side."

"Does he have grandchildren? Great Grandchildren?"

"No. His children were never able to have babies of their own. He lived with them in Talokan until they passed on, and then he moved here permanently. They were never like him…but Lewatle is. He sees a future that can be different. Being a ruler and nothing else is not good for him. I think…I think you and the baby are good for him."

"What about you? Do you want to have a family someday?"

Namora splashed water on her and swam backwards while laughing.

"Men fear me. I am a warrior. I protect Talokan and that is what I want."

"There isn't anyone you like in Talokan?"

"Oh, sure…many."

"And?"

Namora pushed water on her again wetting Lebadi gently. Lebadi let go of Lewatle to be with Namora and the warrior women twirled around slowly cradling the baby under the deeper end of the pool.

"She likes you a lot," Namor said.

Lebadi turned her head and Namor walked into the luxurious pool to sit next to her.

"To think she tried to kill me the first time she laid eyes on me. And now…look at her. She stays by my side every day watching over me and Lewatle," Lebadi said.

"We have many male relatives and very few female relatives her age. You are the closest to a sister she has."

Namor watched Namora play underwater. His mood had shifted to a relaxed state. The burden of revealing his daughter waned and he could finally shake the tension he carried in his body all morning.

"Will you marry me, Lebadi? Become my wife?" he asked.

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it before rubbing small circles on her knuckles.

"I didn't think I could love another woman. Especially one from the world of my enemies. I heard your prayers in the ocean and you lured me to you. I became enchanted by your beauty and your grace. I don't know what kind of life I can give you here, but I will do my best to be a loving husband and father. I want you here with me. You can't go down to Talokan, but I can give you a taste of it here. You can draw, paint, and venture out from time to time when it is safe on the surface world. Look at her. See? Lewatle thrives. She will have a blessed life."

"What if you fall out of love with me?"

"That will never happen."

"What if I decide I want to go back home one day? Would you allow me to leave?"

"Leaving here means leaving Lewatle behind. I know you would never betray me and tell your people about my world. But if you left me, our child will remain in Talokan."

His tone was sharp and his eyes narrowed in that way of his when he wanted her to know how serious he was.

"If I marry you, would I become queen? How can a queen rule a world under the sea where she can never go?"

"The people will come to you."

"How? Squeeze them all in here?"

"Let me show you."

He helped her out of the water leaving Lewatle with Namora. Wandering through the connected caves, he took her to a route she was unfamiliar with that led down deeper into the earth.

"See?"

Namor left her standing among jagged rock formations as he flew down to a staged structure of carefully placed blocks of limestone that created a floating stage surrounded by beautiful azure water.

"As queen, our people will greet you here. I will place a great throne for you right there and our world will come alive for you to participate in important matters. We can be united here in front of thousands."

He flew back to her side.

"Give me time to think, Namor."

"I will not pressure you."

They returned to their living quarters and Namora had Lewatle tucked away in her water bassinet. A dark figure stirred in the water. The bones of a hammerhead shark came into view before the rest of the looming figure of Attuma broke the surface. He carried a small shark figure carved out of smooth soapstone. Attuma looked at Lebadi and then pointed at the baby.

"Go ahead," Lebadi said.

The giant man moved next to the bassinet and looked down at the baby. Namora watched him and smirked.

"Let him hold her," Namor said to Namora.

Namora placed the breather over the baby's face and lifted Lewatle who only wore a diaper cloth. She held her out for Attuma to take. He placed the soapstone figure inside the baby bed and picked up Lewatle who became a tiny doll in his massive hands. Attuma stood awkwardly as the baby squirmed and let out squeals of delight. Namora swam away from him and Attuma looked around the quarters with panic in his eyes.

"He's held babies before, but because this is my child he's nervous," Namor said chuckling afterward.

Lewatle stopped moving and stared up into the man's face.

"That is your cousin Attuma," Namor said.

Attuma raised the baby higher and closer to his face. Lewatle waved her arms and touched Attuma's mask.

"Leti' ki'ichpam…"

"Yes, she is beautiful, Attuma," Namor said.

Attuma stood for awhile, staring at the baby until he tucked her in his arm and rocked her, showing off the gift he brought for Lewatle to touch.

Attendants notified Namor and Lebadi that it was time for them to eat. Attuma put Lewatle back into her bed and Namora followed him under the water leaving Namor's realm on the surface.

Lebadi and Namor sat across from each other and he talked about growing more squash and beans in his cave garden. He ate food from the sea like his people, but he enjoyed eating the foods of his mother when she had once been human. The man was a verbose storyteller and she listened with avid ears. He asked her to share more about herself that he had missed while they had been apart. She spoke of her work, loneliness, and feeling out of place in her own homeland when he left her. Namor became quiet then. She reached across their plates of fried corn, black beans, and grilled squash and patted his hand.

"I understand why you chose your people," she said. "All those elders showed me that you are needed. Being selfish about us was out of my love for you. I wanted us to be together and losing you ripped my heart apart."

Namor reached a hand over and thumbed a tear away from her eye.

"I'm happy here. You spoil me and Lewatle. There is so much to do and explore within these caves. I have the houseboat and I will cherish my memories of Wakanda…"

Namor's face softened and he held her hands on the table.

"I will marry you," she said.

He squeezed her hands and his smile shined brighter than the jewels around his neck. A splash from the baby bed alerted them that Lewatle wanted attention. Namor strode across the room and pulled off his robes until he was stripped down to his green swim shorts. Lebadi peeled off her dress to her underwear and padded over topless, fitting her breather over her face. She dove under the pool water and joined Namor with their daughter.

Eight months into her new life, an alarm was sounded inside Namor's private abode.

Namora woke them up in their bed speaking the Talokan language so fast that Lebadi couldn't translate fast enough. She grabbed a covering and rushed out to Lewatle's bed where two women looked after the baby during the night.

Attuma and Namora stood at attention dressed in their battle regalia with four other male and female warriors. A gruff-looking soldier in a leadership position approached Namor with a solemn expression. Lebadi recognized him from private talks with Namor. His second-in-command of the Talokan army. Yaluk.

"K'uk'ulkan, the Wakandan military are moving in our territory in the north Atlantic," Yaluk said.

"What are they doing? Surveillance?"

"We don't know, but they have moved in several positions off the coast of Brazil, and the Caribbean territories. They have one aircraft that has entered the sea near the vortex that leads to Sayyil. We have a pod dispatched there to watch them. The vessel floats in one place…as if it were hiding."

Another soldier rose up from the pool of water in a rush. His voice sounded agitated.

"The king of Wakanda is on his way to the Sayyil territory!"

Namor went to a corner of the cave and brought out his spear.

"We will go see what the Wakandan king is up to," Namor said.

"Namor?" Lebadi said.

She held Lewatle against her chest. At eight months the girl was chunky and active, wiggling in her mother's arms.

"This is not war if there's no overt provocation. I want to see why he's there. Your King T'Chaka will need to stay away from our waters to avoid my army," Namor said.

He kissed Lewatle's forehead and nuzzled Lebadi's cheek. She knew not to ask how long he would be gone. There were global threats to their discovery at a more brisk pace. Especially among the western powers. Too many were testing nuclear weapons, polluting the oceans with chemical waste and human trash. Namor was adamant about killing his enemies from other countries on sight. He told her several times that Wakanda was a special case, but the fierceness he carried out with him when he passed by her made Lebadi doubt he would be civil if King T'Chaka acted rash. This left her torn with her allegiance. Perhaps she could be the voice of reason if something went awry with her former king. She was still Wakandan after all, even though she was married to the Talokan king.

Lewatle wiggled so much in her arms that Lebadi finally put her down. The baby crawled toward the pool trying to catch up with her father. Their attendants blocked the baby's path and Lewatle sat back on her rump and cried, her mask making her voice sound strangled in pain.

"Shhh..shhh…it's okay my precious little one. Yuum will be back in no time. Don't cry, Na' is here, I'm here…"

Lewatle cried and pointed to the water.

"Yuum!" Lewatle wailed.

Lebadi took the baby to the water and removed her mask so she wouldn't get frustrated and pull off her breather in a distraught fit. The water cooled down her angst and Lebadi walked around the pool with her daughter snug against her chest listening to her mother's heartbeat.

"Such a good girl, Lewatle. Yuum will come back home soon, don't you worry."

Once the baby calmed down, Lebadi returned her breather and walked out of the pool. She strolled the grounds of the caves and pointed out particular images on the murals.

"That's you! Yuum painted you so pretty."

Lewatle mumbled her baby talk and snuggled her head against Lebadi's neck.

"Look how handsome your father looks next to me. See? I'm wearing my wedding dress…and look there… see all the Talokanil that came to see us wed in the grand hall? One day if you want to get married to someone, you can wear my dress. I hope you will have a wedding in the same place as me, because Na' can't go down to Talokan in the palace."

"Up!" Lewatle said, raising her hand up above her head.

"Up?" Lebadi said in Talokan and Wakandan playing with her daughter's bilingual learning.

"Up, Na'! Up!"

Lebadi sighed. Her daughter wanted to go to the cave garden where she could watch for her father fly down from his journeys out into the world from the opening in the roof.

"Up! Up!" Lewatle insisted.

Lebadi took her child where she wanted to go and they stared up high above the tall fruit trees and gazed at the starlight filtering down in the semi-darkness. She rocked the baby on her hip and whispered sweet words in her ear, praying to Bast that Namor would remain cool, calm, and collected over the Atlantic. He ripped apart a foreign naval ship on previous trip away. Lebadi didn't know how many dead floated in ocean graves because of him over the centuries. She kept quiet about it. Namor was deadly and kept his killing business away from her.

For two days she walked and rocked Lewatle, wishing she could swim up to the surface and wait for her husband on the houseboat. A messenger sought out an audience with her in the grand hall waters, and she sat on her custom shark throne listening to the young woman fresh from the sea giving word that Namor would arrive soon.

"What became of his meeting with King T'Chaka?" Lebadi asked.

The messenger, Hun-Nal-Ye, fingered the shark-tooth necklace around her neck. Her flawless blue skin had dark moon-sliver scarring around the sides of her temples denoting her status as a citizen protector of Talokan. Her hair hung in long wet wavy strands past her shoulders and she held a small jade manta ray, a talisman Namor used to prove that his messenger's words were directly from him.

"K' uk' ulkan has rendered a treaty with the king of Wakanda. There will be peace between our nations," Hun-Nal-Ye said lowering her head.

Lebadi's favorite attendant, Tepeu took the talisman from Hun-Nal-Ye's hand and gave it to her. She palmed it and placed it inside the top of her dress against her heart.

"Thank you, Hun-Nal-Ye. You may leave."

Hun-Nal-Ye nodded and dove back into the water. Lebadi stood up and breathed deeply.

"Please tell El-Cuaj to dress Lewatle for her father and meet me in the cave garden," Lebadi said.

Tepeu lowered her head and left the grand hall.

Lebadi meandered her way toward the cave garden, patting her heart to feel the manta ray talisman pressed against her skin. Touching her hair, she fluffed out a puffy cloud adorned with cowrie shells and gold trinkets. Her royal indigo dress billowed behind her as she walked.

Sunlight illuminated dust motes high above her head, and the warmth teased her bare arms and face.

"Na'!"

Lewatle's voice broke Lebadi's reverie with nature.

"Let her crawl to me," Lebadi instructed El-Cuaj.

The attendant placed the baby on the soft earth and Lebadi sat down eight feet away from her.

"Come," Lebadi said in Wakandan and Talokanil.

Lewatle hustled her knees and hands, scurrying toward her mother. When she reached Lebadi, the baby used her hands to pull herself up on her feet with a wobbly balance. Lebadi touched the ankle wings that looked inflamed at the calmus root. There were traces of a sea-made poultice that the nanny El-Cuaj used to sooth the pain for the baby. Much like a new baby tooth, Lewatle's wings were growing and became a slight discomfort for the little one.

"Yuum, up! Na'…hmmm…." Lewatle murmured.

Lewatle's head tilted back instinctively knowing that her father would come down from the tiny bit of visible sky. Lebadi looked up too, awaiting a glimpse of Namor. The baby babbled and cooed and Lebadi entertained her daughter by holding her upper body to help strengthen her chubby legs.

A shadow loomed above them and Lebadi grinned.

"It's Yuum!" Lebadi said.

Lewatle looked up and Namor floated down from the top, hovering over seventy feet above them. Lebadi started pointing to him and gasped when Lewatle released her hold on Lebadi's arms and flew up six feet, her baby wings whirring like her father's.

"Oh Bast!" Lebadi squeaked, jumping to her feet and grabbing for her daughter's toes.

Lewatle's flight was wonky and off-kilter, but she held her arms high above her head, kicking her little feet trying to steer her trajectory. Like a bumble bee drunk from too much nectar, the baby zig-zagged in the air and Lebadi became frightened that she would fall and break bones. Namor dropped down quickly and wrapped his arms around his daughter.

"You miss Yuum that much?" he teased, kissing Lewatle's forehead.

Lewatle only squealed and babbled away.

"My queen," Namor said.

He landed softly by Lebadi's side and hugged her with one arm. She kissed his lips and rubbed her hand over his hair that held the warmth of the full sun that she missed for the days he was absent.

"I wasn't expecting her to do that so soon," Lebadi said.

"I started flying at this age. My mother had to tie a piece of rope around my waist to keep me near her when she harvested fruit on land."

"We should do that."

"Only when I am not around. I can catch her once she gets stronger and better."

"I'm so glad you're home safe. Hun-Nal-Ye told me it all went well."

"I don't know what King T'Chaka's true intentions are on the surface world, but we have an agreement about the sea. He will avoid encroaching in that area for their spying. Flying over it is not an issue. Going into the sea near there again will be seen as a threat by me. I will destroy any submersibles or lingering ships."

Lebadi listened and then closed her eyes to feel the sun again. Her stomach dropped as she felt Namor whisk her in his free arm and fly them all to the hole in the cave sky. They landed near the ledge of the tall hill surrounded by foliage down below. The sun danced on all their skin and Lebadi drew in a deep breath of fresh air. They were far from the snake mouth entrance of their underground dwelling, and isolated from humans who could never get through the dense canopy or the brush hiding them from the Talokan world.

Across the horizon, Lebadi studied the sea and thought of her family. The last of her vid messages had gone out the month before, and she was sure there would be a search for her. She debated about going to the houseboat and sending a final message telling them the truth. That she had run away with the love of her life and had a baby.

She fought back tears thinking of her parents worrying that she was dead in Wakanda somewhere. Her own people would consider her a traitor for falling in love with a mutant foreigner if they knew the fantastic reality she lived in. Another civilization had to hide their true selves and their powerful vibranium resource. Lebadi buried those thoughts in her heart, tucked them for back into a hidden place that she would never open again. She was now a Queen Mother and deeply in love with her husband and child. A time for mourning Wakanda had to end. She had made her choice the moment she floated into the sea with Lewatle filling up her belly.

On top of the hidden hill, Lebadi gave a final prayer to the sea's horizon, asking Mama Wati and her ancestors to comfort her family. She watched her loving husband play with their flying baby, enjoying the sight of Lewatle floating her chubby brown body above her father's outstretched hands. The wings on her feet buzzed and she flailed her arms in excitement. The reality of her daughter flying before walking made Lebadi laugh and she glanced at her husband once more. The joy on Namor's face and the precious squeals of happiness from Lewatle was worth the sacrifice of leaving Wakanda. Forever.

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#The Offering Part 3 #Namor #Namor Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever #Namora #Attuma #Talokan #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Uzumaki Rebellion #Youtube

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 3 months ago

Note

HIII BFFF!!!🤗🤗 i hope u are well!!!

sorry for not being active 😣😣 a gal has been booked and BUSY. but hopefully i’ll have some more free time soon 🙏🙏

i was going to write something like this… howeverrrr i have a lot of ideas already & i think you can do a really good job with this!!!

but basically you can pick either josh or tyler & the reader is a pop rock kinda artist & tyler/josh have always admired her from afar. so they invite the reader to open for them on tour. there’s some romantic tension & reader plays a song dedicated to tyler/josh & the fans r all 😮😮😮

something like that!!!! you can do whatever with it, i think there’s a lot of directions you can take this:3

p.s how are you feeling abt getting a LIVE ALBUM… still in shock.

Smithereens - Tyler Joseph x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Nothing hehe

Word Count: 3648 - pretty sure this is officially the longest fic I've written and posted on here :)

A/N: OH MA GAWD THIS WAS FUN AF FREN... this is so freaking cute I can't even deal with it! I'm in massive shock at the fact we're getting a live album btw my show isn't even until November and things just keep getting better and better with the tour lol I can't believe we're getting some of the transitions like natn to hds like WHAT THE WOW oh and the possibility of hometown x slowtown (um slowtown on streaming???? Tyler the man u ur–and josh bc ily). I cannot wait. oh and heathens into next semester... I'm so excited bc the setlist is so good it's gonna rock and be on repeat forever. Anyways, enough rambling onto the amazing fic I am incredibly proud of! 😁

“What!” I barked into my phone, rubbing my eyes until my vision went from blurry to clear. It had been a crazy night before, staying up late partying with my friends before falling to sleep at 3am. What had woken me up was a series of buzzing noises from my phone, buzz after buzz after buzz until it started ringing.

“Y/N? It’s Mary.” Shit. My manager.

“Oh! Sorry! It was a hectic night,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair.

Her laugh echoed through the speakers of my phone. “So I’ve heard. It’s all over social media.” I shook my head, knowing exactly who had posted what to their thousands of followers.

“What’s up?” I asked, flopping down onto my perfectly plump pillows.

“I’ve booked you a tour!” I could tell she was ecstatic, even more so that I was. We’d been hoping to book a tour for the last year and a half and finally we’d done it. It was hard trying to find bands or musicians who were open to having newer and alternative artists open for them–especially someone whose genre is somewhat all over the place.

“What?” I shot up in bed, wide awake now, the sleepiness immediately replaced by a rush of excitement and nerves. “With who?”

Mary hesitated for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Well... how do you feel about opening for Twenty One Pilots?”

My heart practically leapt out of my chest. Twenty One Pilots? As in Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph? I’d always admired them, like... from afar. Sure, we’d crossed paths a few times at festivals and award shows, but nothing like this. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if they’d heard of me before.

“You’re kidding,” I breathed out, my voice barely a whisper.

“Not at all,” she replied, her tone giddy with excitement for me. “They specifically asked for you. Apparently, Tyler’s been a big fan of your music for a while. This could be huge, Y/N.”

I could hardly process it. “Wait… they asked for me? Tyler listens to my music? Sorry WHAT?!” Tyler Joseph? A fan of my music? It felt unreal. “I—” I stammered, feeling overwhelmed. “When does it start?”

“Next month. But you’re going to need to rehearse like crazy to get ready.”

“I’ll be ready.” I hung up the phone and collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. I was going on tour with Twenty One Pilots. Tyler and Josh. The guys I had admired for years were now... going to be watching me from backstage? I felt a shiver of nervous energy run down my spine.

A few weeks later, rehearsals were in full swing, and I was gearing up for the first show.

“Y/N! They’re here!” My friend Joseph had screeched running into the rehearsal space. “No way.” I covered my mouth to try and hide the growing psychotic smile on my face. I was going to pass out from excitement. This wasn’t happening. I turned to the entrance to see the two of them strutting in, shaking the hands and bumping the fists of crew members they both knew and didn’t know. My heart was pounding as I watched them walk in, every movement somehow both casual and magnetic. Josh, with his surprisingly natural brown hair and classic easy smile, waved at a few familiar faces, while Tyler, wearing his usual baseball cap and oversized hoodie, exuded that quiet intensity I’d always admired. They looked like they belonged, like they owned the room without even trying. And here I was, standing in the middle of the rehearsal space, trying not to lose my cool.

Joseph was practically vibrating with excitement beside me, nudging me with his elbow. “Dude, go say hi!” he whispered, eyes wide.

“I-I can’t. Look at them,” I replied, clenching my jaw through every world to hide my delusion.

I swallowed hard, my palms already sweaty. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I'm Y/N, a rando who's admired you from afar for years? Oh, and thanks for asking me to open for you on tour, no big deal.

Before I could overthink it any more, Tyler's eyes landed on me. My breath hitched as he gave me a nod and a small smile, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my pulse race. He elbowed Josh, who turned and followed his gaze.

“Oh man, it’s her!” Josh said, grinning as they walked over. Sorry, what?

“Y/N, right?” Tyler said, his voice warm but somehow deeper in person.

I turned to look around the room as if trying to figure out if he was talking to me or not. “Uh… yeah?” I said, it came out more like a question than an answer. “Yeah, that's me,” I repeated, trying to sound casual even though my heart was doing backflips. “Thanks for, uh... asking me to open for you guys. It's an honor.”

Tyler exchanged a glance with Josh, something unspoken passing between them. “We’ve been following your music for a while now,” Tyler admitted, rubbing the back of his neck like he was just as unsure of what to say as I was. “You–You’re really talented.”

I blinked, trying to process the fact that Tyler Joseph just said that to me. “Thanks. That means a lot, really.”

“We’re stoked to have you on board,” Josh chimed in, flashing that friendly, easygoing smile. “I think the fans are gonna lose it when they see you perform.”

“Yeah,” Tyler added, his eyes meeting mine again. “It's gonna be a good tour.”

There was something in the way he said it, the weight behind his words, that made my skin tingle. I felt that spark again, the same one I’d felt from watching him in interviews and onstage, but this time it was real. Tangible.

Over the next few days, I kept catching Tyler’s eyes during rehearsals, our conversations short but loaded with something unspoken. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered a little too long, or how his smile felt more personal when it was directed at me. I wasn’t sure if I was crazy–my immense crush on the multi-talented lead singer getting the best of me–or if he had noticed the same thing. The energy between us felt electric, charged with something we weren’t quite saying out loud.

One evening, after my home city show, I was sitting out on the stage–the venue completely empty. I was alone, staring out at the abandoned seats and floor, still able to feel the energy from less than a few hours ago. Letting out a deep sigh, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Tyler standing there, hands in his hoodie pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, patting the spot beside me. “Not at all.”

He sat down, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the proximity making my heart race. We sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the faint hum of the venue’s equipment the only sound. I could feel his eyes on me as I picked up my ukulele which was sitting next to me and started absentmindedly strumming a few chords.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier,” Tyler started, his voice quiet, like he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal. “But… your performance today? It was incredible.”

I glanced over at him, biting back a smile. “I didn’t know you were watching.”

“I’m always watching,” he said, his gaze intense, sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at me. “I’m trying… I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess up and make a fool of myself in front of your fans.”

“You’re not and you won’t,” he said quickly, his eyes searching mine. “Far from it, actually. Last time I checked twitter they were talking about how much they love you.”

We fell into another heavy silence, the air between us thick with tension. My pulse was racing, and I felt like there were a million things I wanted to say, but none of them made sense in my head. Tyler shifted slightly, his knee brushing against mine, and even that small touch sent sparks through me.

“Is it weird,” I started slowly, my voice fragile, “that I feel like I’ve known you for longer than I have?”

The question clearly caught him off guard. His breath hitched, but I forced myself to stay calm. “No, it’s not weird,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “I feel that way too.” Tyler smiled, a small, almost shy smile that made my heart flutter.

“It’s just… I’ve been following your music for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a second before I answered. “Better. Way better than I imagined.”

The air between us felt charged, like something was about to happen, but neither of us made the next move. I could feel the weight of his words settling into the space between us, making everything feel more real, more intense.

I had to break the tension before it swallowed me whole.

“Speaking of better,” I said, trying to lighten the mood but failing to mask the shakiness in my voice. “I was thinking of doing something special for tomorrow’s show.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

I glanced at him, feeling a rush of boldness as the idea solidified in my mind. “I was thinking… I’d cover one of your songs.”

His eyes widened, clearly surprised. “You’d cover one of our songs?”

“Yeah,” I said, biting my lip nervously.

Tyler blinked, taken aback, and for a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far. But then his expression softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Which song?” he smirked, laying back on the stage.

“Something off Trench, it’s not on your setlist if that’s what you’re worried about,” I laughed, joining him.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to admit. “Because it’s personal. And I’ve listened to your music for so long. It’s always been a dream of mine to get to perform one of your songs live.”

For a second, the world seemed to stop. Tyler’s smile faded, replaced by something deeper, something I couldn’t quite read. His eyes searched mine, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for his response.

“You… you’d really do that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady even though my nerves were all over the place. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. Then, finally, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made my breath catch.

“It’s more than okay,” he said softly. “I think it’s… perfect.”

The tension between us didn’t break; if anything, it intensified. But it was different now, like we’d crossed some invisible line, and there was no going back.

The next night, the arena was buzzing with energy. I could feel the excitement in the air as I took the stage, the fans screaming and cheering, completely unaware of the surprise I had in store.

After a few songs, I paused, taking a deep breath as I stepped up to the mic. The crowd quieted, waiting for what was next.

“How’re we doing tonight Seattle?” A roar of screams and cheers rang through the venue. “I’ve got a little surprise for you guys tonight," I said, my voice echoing through the speakers. “I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to do a cover of a song that means so much to me. A song that a certain band didn’t put on their setlist this tour. Any guesses who I’m covering?” I laughed.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I smiled, glancing toward the side of the stage where Tyler stood, watching me. Our eyes met, and I felt that familiar spark, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever.

“You want to come up and play piano for this one Ty?” I asked, the crowd erupting in cheers. Tyler shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “No? Oh come on, you know you want to. The sheet music’s up there…” I turned to the audience, “I haven’t told him what song I’m playing yet,” I laughed. “You sure you don’t wanna come play?” The fans started chanting for him to join me.

“Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!”

“Oh fine!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the crowd. He climbed on stage and jogged over to the piano, shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. “You're really doing this, huh?” he teased as he adjusted the mic on the piano, sitting down with an exaggerated sigh. I walked over to him, turning the mic off for a second.

I grinned lightly as the energy of the crowd buzzed in the air. “Oh, I am definitely doing this. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Tyler's hands hovered over the keys, clearly waiting for the cue. “Smithereens? Really?” he laughed and I nodded, proud of myself. Tyler turned the mic back on as I waltzed back to my spot.

“Alright,” I said, glancing over at him. “This one’s for you Tyler.”

The crowd went wild, their reaction so loud it almost drowned out my words. Tyler chuckled into the mic, shaking his head again in disbelief, but his fingers were already on the keys, playing the opening melody. The soft, familiar notes filled the arena, and my heart started racing again, but for a different reason this time. This was personal. Intimate. And Tyler was right there, playing along with me.

I began singing, my voice steady but carrying all the emotion I had for the moment. I looked over at Tyler as I sang the words, and he glanced up, meeting my gaze for just a heartbeat. There was something in his eyes—something deeper than just admiration, something almost vulnerable. My chest tightened as I sang the next line, the weight of the song suddenly feeling more significant, more real than ever.

Tyler’s playing was flawless, but there was a hint of tension in his posture, like he was trying to keep something in check. I knew exactly how he felt; the energy between us was palpable, the tension from all those unspoken moments finally reaching a crescendo. The crowd sang along, but it was like they were in the background, as if this performance was happening in our own bubble. Just me and Tyler.

Every word felt like it was meant for him, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him between the lyrics, feeling the connection spark every time our eyes met. When I hit the chorus, the crowd sang so loud I almost couldn’t hear myself. Tyler grinned, his fingers dancing over the keys, the music swelling around us, and for a second, I forgot we were even on stage. It was just him and me, sharing this raw, unfiltered moment.

As the song came to a close, the final notes ringing out, I turned to face Tyler fully. His gaze was locked on mine, his expression unreadable but intense. The applause and cheers from the audience roared to life, but I barely heard them. Tyler stood up from the piano, slowly walking over to me, and without thinking, I pulled him into a tight hug. The crowd went wild again, their cheers reaching a fever pitch, but it was just background noise to the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

As Tyler wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into the background—the roar of the crowd turned into a distant hum as I buried my face in his shoulder, savoring the moment. His warmth enveloped me, grounding me in the excitement and emotion of what we had just shared.

When we finally pulled back, Tyler kept his hands on my shoulders, his gaze holding mine for just a moment longer than necessary. A shy, yet genuine smile played on his lips, and my heart fluttered. I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I couldn't look away from him.

“Thank you for that,” Tyler said, his voice low but filled with an intensity that made my heart race. “You were incredible.”

I nodded, still breathless. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I didn’t just like it Y/N, it means more than just liking it,” he whispered into my ear.

The energy in the venue surged as I turned to the audience, their cheers echoing through the air. With a grin, I stepped back to the mic, trying to compose myself. “Wow, thank you, Seattle! You guys have been amazing tonight!” The crowd roared, and I took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“This is the end of my set, but stick around because the real show is about to start! Twenty One Pilots is up next!” I waved to the fans, their cheers drowning out my words. “Thank you all so much! I love you!”

As I stepped away from the mic, Tyler clapped a hand on my back, leading me off stage. The moment we were out of view from the audience, the energy shifted. Tyler turned to me, his expression more serious, and I could see a mix of admiration and something deeper in his eyes.

“You made that song come alive in a way I never expected. You’re something else aren’t you?” he said, stepping closer, the air thick with unspoken words.

I chuckled, shrugging slightly and running a hand through my hair. “I just felt right to play,” I admitted, heart pounding. “It means a lot to me, Tyler.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate whisper. “You’re more than just a talented artist, Y/N. You’re something else entirely. That performance made me realize how lucky I am to have you on this tour. And honestly?” He paused, searching my eyes, the tension palpable. “It just further confirmed how I feel about you, not just as an artist, but as a person.”

My breath caught in my throat, a rush of warmth flooding through me at his words. “I admire you too, Tyler. You and Josh have been a huge inspiration to me.”

Tyler smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my heart race. “No, really. That was more than just a performance to me. It felt personal. There’s something here, between us.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I took a step closer to him. “I feel it too. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, his gaze unwavering. “Then let’s not overthink it. I’m here, you’re here, we clearly both feel something for each other,” he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. “Every time you look at me, it’s like you see straight through to my soul.”

I swallowed hard, his words washing over me. “I could say the same about you.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice deepening. “Because I want to explore whatever this is between us. I want to see where it leads.”

With the distance between us closing, I felt the thrill of the moment, the intensity of his words and the warmth of his presence enveloping me. I wanted to lean in, to let him know just how much I felt, but the excitement and nervousness tangled together in a way that made me hesitant.

Tyler stepped forward, closing the gap even further. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve got to know that every word of that song was a reflection of how I feel about you. It might not have been written with anyone in mind but it’s exactly how I feel about you. And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, sending sparks of electricity through my entire being. The kiss was soft, yet filled with an undeniable passion, and in that moment, everything else faded away. All the worries, the nerves—everything was drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he smiled down at me, his expression both playful and serious. “I think I’m going to enjoy this tour a lot more now.”

I laughed, the tension lifting as I felt lighter, happier than I had in a long time. “Me too, Tyler. Me too.” I held onto his hand, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. “Now, you’re supposed to go on in 10 minutes so you should probably go find Josh.”

“Oh damn you’re right,” he looked up at the clock on the wall noticing the time. He started down the hall in the direction of their dressing room but stopped to turn back towards me. “I–We–We’re going out after the show, okay?”

I nodded, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll come find you. But you really need to go,” I smiled.

“I really need to go,” he repeated, looking slightly sad that he had to leave. And with that, he walked back into his dressing room, the excitement of the night still crackling in the air.

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN TEAM!

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