#This Life's Never Uneventful : {Drabble} | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kazeofthemagun · 9 months ago

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@dragontamer05 asked the summoner:

send BLUSHED for a scene from my muse's past in which they received a compliment that really got to them

Fragments of the Past

Love Me Sweet

[Note: this drabble takes place during Kaze and Aura's romance period, before they were aware they were siblings. No trigger warnings of note other than war mentions]

The trip to the Ladnajredvi keep had been uneventful. A rare opportunity to take an airship presented itself, and, well, who was he to deny it. And her, of course. Aura was always an enthusiast of the skies; Giving the young gunmage repeated heart attacks by leaning too close to the edge. The fence was only high enough to reach above her navel, so anyone willing to risk it could give her just a little push and easily claim the death as an accident -

"....Rorahm, you're catastrophizing." Inevitably, the words would leave her lips accompanied by soft laughter. Rosy cheeks and a slender digit pressing to his own mouth as he spoke up. He could never really win, with her. They were both freshly into their second decade of life and, as the Spiral willed it, life on Windaria was typically short. The ceaseless wars raging on the southern border made sure of that.

Lir Hassan was positioned further to the west, but their forces were still needed. Even within Lahriktaar itself, dissent only continued to build following the Priest Elder's assassination. That, and he had a reputation. The kind of reputation which tended to paint a target on one's back.

Combined, it all contributed to a simple fact; Svaardzjetrorahm was a worried man, and Haßhadjetraiya was gleefully reckless.

That, too, contributed to his overall state of mind.

Nevertheless, at least his visions of darling Aura splattered somewhere tens of meters below could finally come to a close when the hulking construct of metal began its steady descent outside the walls of the keep. The thrum of the Soil engine gradually quietened, a pulsating heartbeat in its own right. The airship was asleep now, with its segmented wings folded and tucked to its sides. Every great beast needed its due rest, and this one had done well to carry them here.

The ramps extended and the pair of Windarians proceeded on their way, blending into the stream of people. Then came the usual process of languishing outside the gate for a while, getting their papers checked and finally, they stepped into the fortress-city for the first time in months.

"I missed being here." The hazel-haired Windarian breathed in deep, taking in the fresh air tinged with the aroma of spices. The fair was in full swing, canopies of colorful fabrics shielding market-goers from the sun.

"Mm." The Black Wind replied with a hum as they walked, browsing various stalls and navigating the heavy traffic.

Come to think of it, he scarcely had the opportunity to even visit, nowadays. Campaigns with no end in sight and a talk of the potential Misterian threat to boot, ceasefire hanging by a thread... Something about the coming of the Demon Swordsman. Mostly lies and rumors, a targeted attack on the morale of the High Temple, no doubt. Briefly, he wondered whether the Maken was as impressive as that time he got to view the Magun in person.

Or, rather, on person. A champion who had since passed with the Soil, may the Winds guide his spirit. The man was formidable even in his final years. Rorahm's right hand reached for a satchel of saki, pouring a handful of jingling coins and sliding them ontop a counter. The old merchant stroked his rather tremendous beard before wordlessly nodding. Aura was already packing up the goods.

"What's all that for, anyway?" The summoner inquired, one brow raised above the sygni of the Phoenix. It was certainly too much for either of them and he wasn't really a fan of makulu. The one time he's had them, they left a funny taste on his tongue for hours.

"You don't like them?" Aura turned, cranberry eyes looking up to meet sea blues. There was a degree of surprise, but also.. ah, that devious glimmer of Aura-scheme he had since learned to recognize. She was planning something, and the Wind wasn't about to let it slip that he had noticed.

"Tried them, once." He admitted. "Years ago." Speaking of, he really had no idea when.

"How much were those, anyway?"

"Uh."

Surely not much. He did not tend to spend a lot on sweets. That would just be irresponsible. But, Aura, oh, Aura. Whenever there was an occasion, treats were an absolute must. "Maybe a little more than ten saki."

The girl's expression shifted to a wide smile. "That's because they weren't the real deal, you dork. I swear, if you keep buying cheap stuff you're just scamming yourself. Why not get an actual special, once in a while? That way you're not wasting your money."

Well, she did have a point. As he opened his mouth to contest it -

- she promptly snuck a piece in. Her thumb remained on his lips, effectively shushing him.

"Au -" A complaint half-formed before the redhead gave up and began chewing. He was clearly determined to remain grumpy, and yet: the way the crispy exterior caved in to welcome cream filling with a slightly spicy taste, a sharp note of gaba fruit, and the all-encompassing sweetness must have done a number on his expression, because soon enough, Aura was knee-deep into a fit of giggling.

"...." A lighter shade of red than his hair crept onto Rorahm's features, and he turned his head away. A still-grumpy, yet also comically quiet, "...what," followed.

The laughter did not cease when he felt her arms wrap around his form, the woman's face practically buried in his cape as she continued to chortle in a, now, rather unwomanlike manner. Eventually, the giggling stopped, and she lifted her face from the sea of dark fabric. Her eyes were positively glowing. "You're so cute. I love you so much."

"I'm... cute..?" The young Black Wind's voice was a mixture of emotion he was clearly not experienced with.

Golden Aura pulled him closer - or, rather, pulled herself closer to him. At least they were out of the crowd by now, it would be quite awkward for two entangled lovebirds to become a glorified speed bump.

With her own, slightly lighter, complexion now further warmed by a shade of pink, she sighed dreamily. "So cute."

Black Wind was a man who never expected to hear himself being labeled "cute", or "adorable", or even "nice". Adjectives such as "pleasant", "lovely", or likewise "delightful" were nowhere to be found on his list of words to be associated with.

And that was something Aura found infinitely hilarious. She had found her weapon. Pelting him with endearing terms he still hadn't built up his defenses against. Woe be him, indeed.

"As sweet as a makulu pastry. The genuine kind."

Svaardzjetrorahm said nothing, pulling up the rim of his cape as though that would help hide his internal combustion. His heart was beating faster, a fluttering sensation building in his stomach that threatened to wrest control of his knees. If this kept up, he would actually have to sit down and process it all.

"Saßu." He commented, so intelligently. This only caused his darling Aura to smile even wider. A cheeky vixen, she could be. Twirling an edge of his garments, she rose taller on the tips of her toes and purred.

"I was planning to have at least some of them, but now I'm starting to think it will be so much more fun to just feed them all to you instead. If you're going to keep being so adorable, then I can simply not resist the idea!"

And the giggling was back, full force.

Black Wind groaned. He was still blushing.

...And still "cute".

#Rare Aura icon eyy!!#[[drabble #[[ask response #dragontamer05 #thank youuuu!#[[Love Me Sweet #[[Of My Blood You Alone ║ Golden Aura

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masoena · 4 months ago

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Growing Old

This is an SPN Sam & Dean drabble for the Winchester Gospels Discord server drabble prompt "It's not a burden". Sam and Dean stop hunting and as per the title grow old. Please mind the TW very short read.

TW: MCD, suicidal thoughts, terminal medical condition

Ever since that barn where Dean had a near-fatal brush with death thanks to an unfortunate piece of rebar, Sam had had enough. The world didn't need them to save it anymore, it had Jack and not long after they learned that Castiel was helped out of the Empty.

Fast forward 30 years from that vampire hunt and Dean misplaced the Impala keys for the hundredth time, the instances of him not recognizing Sam increased and he tended to retell the same stories over again while their mundane day-to-day life in a quaint small town near Jody and Donna passed in reliable uneventfulness.

The Winchester body shop was still run by Sam administratively but the front-line had been devoid of Dean for a year now.

In rare moments of lucidity, Dean worried that he was a bother for Sam and would ramble on about taking the Impala and himself off a cliff that he wasn't meant to live like this. Sam assured him that he wasn’t a burden, never was and never will be.

Dean would usually return to staring off into the distance, as if he hadn't just entertained the idea of suicide. This situation was harder for Sam than any death of Dean’s he'd ever had to contend with.

A few months later Dean passed away peacefully in his sleep and while Sam’s heart was torn in two irrevocably, he himself eyed the keys of the Impala to follow Dean. Yet at the same time he was grateful for the decades of living they got to have, neither having expected to grow old.

#supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn fanfic #spn #samdean #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #drabble #sad thoughts #sad stories

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oddinary4bts · 5 months ago

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I’m closer to 30, in a long term committed relationship and I’m obsessed with this story and the characters! Anon take a chill pill, it’s story, fiction, it should be fun and entertaining and engaging. Which it is! it’s like complaining that game of thrones has dragons cause they’re not real..

I would never want to be in a relationship like this, and if someone was behaving like cc jk I would never stay, but it’s a story!!! it doesn’t need to be encored in reality. I actually love to read about kind of toxic not healthy relationships even though I’m in a healthy boring uneventful relationship, because it’s more interesting and exciting. It doesn’t have to mean anything about what you want in real life. And chapter 8 was amazing! Can’t wait for the drabble. You literally never disappoint ❤️

Thank you so much!!! And fr Jungkook is not even that toxic😭😭 like he’s just young and stupid but he is trying his best to be good to her🥹 he just doesn’t know how to do it, but he’s learning! He’s also terrified of losing his best friend bc, as we can see, he literally has nothing when it comes to family. He’s the kind of person that believes friends are family, you know?

Anyways, I want go on a rant about my pookie cc jk buuuut I love him and he’s precious✨✨😂

#chasing cars ask #chasing cars #jungkook #chasing cars series #anon ask

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year ago

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And another one (Marth and Tiki drabble), also on Ao3

“Mar-Mar,” Tiki mumbled.

“Tiki,” he replied, smiling. “It’s wonderful to see you, again.”

Tiki nodded. She sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to press too close to him. Humans were always so fragile, but they were even more fragile when they were close to dying.

Marth was thin and gaunt. His hair was thin. His eyesight had gotten poor. He looked a single light breeze away from scattering into the wind like dandelion fluff. Tiki had never seen him so weak before.

He reached out his hand and she took it. She still looked the same, no matter how much time passed, and it was obvious in their hands. Hers were still so small and soft. His were small and bony and frail. Tiki cradled the hand offered to her in her hands like a bird. Marth chuckled.

“I’m not going to break,” he told her, his voice so soft.

“I don’t want to risk it,” she replied.

Marth ran a shaky thumb over her fingers. His hands were smaller than they once were, but still bigger than her own.

“Aren’t you scared?” Tiki mumbled.

“No,” he replied. “Not at all.”

She frowned, but he just laughed.

“I’m going to die,” he admitted casually. “This has always been my fate. To do so while laying in bed, after years of peace, sets my mind at ease. I will not be dying to an arrow or a lance. I find it to be a nice change of pace. The only threat to my life is my own mortality. I am more than pleased to be able to die peacefully.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Tiki sniffled. “I’ve dreaded this day for years, Mar-Mar. What will I do if you aren’t with me?”

“You’re strong,” Marth said. “You can do whatever you like. You don’t need me to be there.”

“But I want you to be there,” she stated.

Her tears fell on the back of his hand. She sniffed and tried to blink the tears away, but they came no matter what she did.

“Oh, Tiki,” he sighed, as fond as he had always been. “I cannot live forever. Nor do I wish to live forever.”

She nodded. He’d always been open about his own mortality. No matter that Tiki viewed him as godlike and similar to Naga herself, Marth was still a mortal and seemed to even enjoy being one.

“But,” he continued, smiling, “if given the chance to spend a thousand years more at your side, I would take it. I don’t want you to cry for me, Tiki.”

“I can’t help it,” she insisted. “I’m going to miss you.”

He cupped her face with a hand. The touch was light and gentle. His touch had always been so. Even knowing that she was a manakete and not so easily injured, he still touched her gently, as though cautious of hurting her.

“I will miss you too,” he said simply. “You are my dear friend, Tiki. Can you take some peace knowing that being able to see you, in my final days, has brought me great joy? I wondered if you would sleep through my passing altogether.”

“I almost did,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

His smile was still as bright as the sun, warming her even as his own hand remained colder in her palms.

“I miss those who passed before me,” Marth said quietly. “I’m going to see them again, after many years apart.”

“You won’t get lonely without me?” Tiki asked.

“I will miss you, Tiki,” he sighed. “And I will look forward to you joining us. I will want to hear all about the life you lead. I even look forward to hearing the boring parts.”

“Yes,” Tiki agreed. “I’ll live the most boringest life imaginable and tell you all about it!”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Marth admitted. “Than your having an uneventful life. I hope that you will make more friends-“

“I’ll make friends with everyone!” she promised.

“-and that you will not have to suffer through more war and turmoil,” he concluded.

“My life will be as boring as your books,” she swore.

He laughed, light and airy and pleased. She pressed her face into his hand and couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Take your time,” he ordered. “Live your life. I wish you more happiness than you can stand.”

Tiki’s tears refused to stop, even as she promised to listen to him. When he passed, only a week or so later, Tiki cried until there were no tears left, then cried a bit more. There was a pain in her chest, reminiscent of her heart being torn out. Already, only days after he was gone, she missed him more than she could stand.

#marth #tiki #fire emblem #marth and tiki #fe marth #fe tiki #angst #don’t worry there’s some joy coming #i swear #my writing #drabble

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acesknights · 1 year ago

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Final Prayer

- oc x canon [Warlock x Phillip Graves]

Word Count : 782 Summary: Warlock spending his final moments questioning the idea of there possibly being a 'higher being' tags: Character death,religous topics

Note: babies first time uploading a drabble onto tumblr instead of ao3 so i have completely zero clue what i am doing, possibly out of character too but i wrote this at 3am with a lack of sleep.

Warlock didn't consider himself to be religious at all.

Religion is one of those topics that really only get brought up in dire situations, in life or death situations, or even sat on your grandparents porch on a warm summer evening. It's always one of those things that aren't really thought about in a day to day life until you're sat down with another person and either one of you brings it up.

"Shadow 0-1, this is Warlock - how copy?"

Being religious means that you spend your life believing and hoping that a higher and greater being exists and is watching over you. A being that knows each sin one has committed and each good deed one has done.

"Warlock this is Shadow 0-1, hear you loud an' clear"

He never considered himself religious, he was brought up in a Catholic household yet never really took in the lessons all those Sundays at church had tried to tell him.

Religion was a topic he never delved upon in life. He'd witnessed his own fair share of soldiers cry out for their mother's or even start praying before having any remaining will of life get drained from them moments later.

Religion is one of those topics that really only get brought up in dire situations.

"Sir- you ever consider yourself religious..?"

Yet here he was, layed down on a patch of discoloured and drought-induced grass, his ghillie suit caked in a mixture of dried up mud and his own blood.

"I'd like to consider m'self religious warlock"

Adrian was said to never consider himself religious.

Yet in that moment he had caught himself starting to shakily place one of his hands onto his heart, its pace unsteady - ready to finally go to rest in the confines of its bone and muscle cage.

And prayed.

Prayed to make it out of this one.

Prayed to be able to see his loved ones face just one more time.

"And you? You consider yourself religious at all hun?"

'Hun'

By holy god would he miss hearing those three lettered words of endearment.

"warlock?.."

How long has he been like this? Laying on the grass, a gaping hole in his side, a hole that housed the bullet from the enemy.

Lucky shot

Time felt slow, too slow. Painstakingly and unbearably slow.

Was a higher being taking pity on his poor mortal life? Was a god watching over him?

For once Adrian hoped so.

Hope

"Adrian?.. Speak to me dammit!"

"phil, sir- 'm not making it"

A small chuckle had left his soft lips, a chuckle he never thought he'd have to hear. Something he didn't think anyone would have to hear at all. Did bleeding out always take this long?

He'd never consider himself to be the type of person to get down on their knees at an alter and pray away all their sins, ask for forgiveness from the lord or even pray for others. Yet here he was, tears pricking up in the corner of his eyes, rethinking his entire life and his actions in the last few moments of his rather short and uneventful life.

"not enough time.. For assistance.. Just want to... hear you talk a little bit more"

Talk, he can talk, talk to his dying lover who promised they'd end up retired, sat on the old wooden porch on Phillips Country ranch in the southern parts of texas. Perhaps with a dog, a German shepherd would've been nice. Perhaps even a few grey hairs starting to show up in either of their hair.

Oh would he have loved to see that ranch Phillip promised him the night before that he'd take him to. The same night they were sitting in his office, sharing a small bottle of brandy.. or was it whiskey?

"You did good dear, proud of ya - i'll take you to that ranch another' time hm?"

Everything sounded muffled for him now, his vision fading in an uneven and unfamiliar pattern. Shaky breaths leaving his lips as he weakly nodded.

Our Father, who art in heaven,

Breath in

hallowed be thy name;

thy kingdom come;

Fade out

thy will be done;

on earth as it is in heaven.

Fade in

Give us this day our daily bread.

Breath out

And forgive us our trespasses,

Breath in

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

...

Breath out.

Warlock didn't consider himself to be religious at all. The thought of religion only crossed his mind once more as he lay on his grass covered deathbed. Small,sharp,breaths filling his ears as he finally accepted the fact that this higher being is granting him the time to forever lay and rest.

#fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #oc x canon #oc drabbles #phillip graves #cod #cod oc #oc death #non canon oc death #not sure yet on that last tag #religion #catholicism #call of duty #cod mw2 #aceswriting

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musekicker · 2 years ago

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and first drabble for the offering au.

It had been a very eventful couple of days. There had been the party which naturally had been wild. It was how Puss in Boots rolled when it came to celebrations.

Then the fight with the giant. Par for course to Puss. Well, up until the bell had fallen on him and he had lost another life.

Down to his last life...

He should be concerned. Puss knew that. But then, he was also THE Puss in Boots, a legend. And as the saying went, legends never die. He openly had mocked the idea of death more then once. And he did not see that changing any time soon.

Still.. maybe he drank a bit more heavily that night then normal. A uneventful night of drinking at the bar, alone. One too many drinks and Puss had stumbled his way towards his room in the inn that was right next to the bar.

Puss never made it to the inn. His senses so dulled currently, he had not noticed the presence of someone else up until he was hit in the back of the head.

Eventually Puss found himself waking up to a change of scenery. Instead of waking in the room he had paid for he found himself in a graveyard.

It looked like a normal enough graveyard. Tombstones dotted the landscape, words that evoked memories of people long past chiseled into them. A small church, somewhat run down dominated the highest point of the graveyard.

There was also a single, tall tree in the graveyard. It's long branches drooped, almost as if bowing in some sort of prayer for the dead. Puss was currently bound to that tree. Without his sword on him Puss quickly noted.

He only had the time to start pulling at the bonds for seconds when something else occurred to him. Puss wasn't alone in this graveyard.

There were nine of them. Nine people dressed in dark robes with hoods, a silver wolf head clasp at the neck of the robes. Puss had no idea if he knew any of these people of not, their faces too well hidden.

All nine of the robed beings turned their heads to look at Puss, realizing he was awake now.

"Do you all take time practicing to be creepy?" Puss asked despite the situation.

Thankfully the unison thing only seemed to extend to that one earlier moment, as only one of the robed beings approached Puss.

"Awake? Good. We can begin the offering then." said the approaching being.

Puss started to struggle. The ropes were digging into his fur and skin as he twisted in their grip.

"When I get free-" Puss hissed.

None of the robed figures showed any form of concern. The approaching hooded being kept coming. Then when they were right before Puss, they stopped.

"You mocked Death one too many times." the figure told him.

Puss frowned, confused.

"What?"

There was no explanation for what the being meant by that. They only drew out a knife, the light of the full moon glinting off the blade. Puss froze.

Oh, so this would be how he lose his last life.

Puss hissed at the cult member, trying to put on a show of bravery. Trying to ignore the fur on the back of his neck going up.

He expected the knife to be plunged right into his heart as it was raised. Instead. The blade swiped, cutting him on the top of the forehead.

"Ah!" Puss cried, startled.

The wound was no where near deadly. But it was deep enough to start bleeding. The blood trickled down his forehead, between his eyes. He was breathing deeply now. He expected more to happen.

To Puss's surprise, the being then walked away. The being wiped Puss's blood off on the grass in front of him before doing so.

"The smell of your blood will call him." the being said.

"Do you ever say anything that isn't creepy or cryptic?" Puss asked.

No answer. Instead, the hooded beings gathered then moved to leave.

"Wait! You're just going to leave me here?" Puss cried.

Once again no answer. And in a single line, the hooded beings left the graveyard. Leaving Puss alone.

He was left alone for hours. And Puss was still tied to the tree. He was making some progress in getting the ropes off though. His claws could only just reach the ropes and he had been working on sawing at the ropes with his claw tips to weaken them.

Puss was sure he was getting close to getting the rope weak enough to snap when the bell of the graveyard church started to ring. The bell tolled again and again. Until it had rang eight times. One for each life he had lost so far a fearful thought wormed to the forefront.

Then quiet.

Silence rang louder then the bell had. There was a moment where Puss thought maybe this had all been some sort of sick joke being played on him. He was sure now that soon he would weaken the ropes enough to get out of them and be off and away from this town.

Then he saw it. Red eyes stared at him from the darkness.

Those eyes showed themselves to be part of a very imposing figure as they stepped out from the dark. It was a wolf. A big, mostly white one. All sharp teeth and figure that towered over a small cat such as Puss in Boots.

His fur was standing up on end before he even realized he was afraid.

The wolf stalked over towards Puss. His eyes fixed on the cat. Once he was in front of Puss, the wolf leaned down to Puss's level. Then he took a big sniff at Puss's forehead. The place where Puss had been bleeding earlier. That alone had been creepy enough, but then the wolf started to sniff down Puss's neck, his shoulders. Finally the wolf pulled back, grinning a sharp tooth grin.

"You smell like fear. It's a very attractive scent." the wolf said.

Puss's heart was beating fast now, and his struggles started up again. The wolf just watched, as if he enjoyed seeing the struggle.

His mistake, Puss thought. Because the ropes were close to snapping. Almost free..

There! The ropes finally snapped and Puss scrambled to make a run for it. To Puss's surprise the wolf only watched as he ran. He didn't let that slow him down though. He just kept running and running.

He was almost at the graveyard entrance when he found himself shoved down, and pinned to the ground by the wolf that somehow was suddenly in front of him. Puss yowled and tried to claw at the wolf.

That was the wolf showed that he was armed with more then teeth. A scythe was in his other hand and now the blade was at Puss's throat. One wrong movement could end with his throat being cut. And wolf was still looking Puss over with a look that could be described as hungry.

"Who... who are you?" Puss asked, trying to not panic. "What is this about?"

The wolf laughed, a long, long bark of a sound.

"You do not know?" the wolf asked.

"The people who tied me to the tree didn't exactly explain things at length." Puss said.

The wolf nodded.

"I suppose they really don't do that? But you don't get to choose who worships you I suppose." the wolf said.

Puss clearly still did not understand. It seemed that the wolf would have to spell it out for the cat.

"You don't get it. That's fine. You're not exactly smart." the wolf said.

"Hey!" Puss cried. "For one thing you don't know me-"

The wolf laughed again, and pushed the blade just a bit closer to Puss's neck. The action made Puss fall silent.

"Oh, I know you Puss in Boots. The great, arrogant, little legends. The one who wastes his lives and laughs at death." the wolf said.

Then he leaned his face in close to Puss's and snarled.

"Laughing now?" he asked.

Puss's eyes went wide.

"Are you saying that you are-" Puss said.

The wolf smirked.

"Yes. I'm Death. Straight up. And you, little legend, had been offered to me." the wolf said.

Puss looked wide eyed still at Death. Shocked into silence. Death took another whiff of that fear and grinned.

"I'm going to be honest with you, cat." Death said. "I normally don't accept the offerings that this little group has been leaving for me."

"That mean's you're letting me go then?" Puss in Boots said hopefully.

Death laughed. A chilling sound that made the fur on Puss's arms go up. He knew that he was not going to get out of this so easily.

"No. You, little cat, are a special case." Death said.

Death pulled his scythe away from Puss's neck. Then he picked Puss up by his middle. Puss's attempts to claw at him once he did didn't even bother the wolf.

"I'm accepting you, little offering." Death said. "Now, let's get you to your new home."

In a blink of a mortal eye, Death and Puss were no longer in the graveyard.

#puss in boots spoilers #puss in boots the last wish

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quick-drawn-a · 5 years ago

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✯ Reform — pt. 1

It was one thing when it was your own life on the line — it was another when you chose someone else to walk that line for you. But when someone steps up to that line, unknowing — carelessly...

The mission report flickered to life on the holopad that sat in Jesse’s lap. Folded arms protested opening it, the seventeen year old not wanting anything to do with it. The scowl on his face was harsh, his glare sharp enough to cut glass, but it didn’t phase the Commander; Reyes rolled up the papers he had in his hand, and a swift swat at the brim of the teenager’s hat called attention upwards.

“Hey — !” Jesse growled, immediately squirming to tug his hat back into place.

“It would be preferred for you to at least pretend you want to be here.” the older man warned. “And I believe it would be in your best interest to look over that briefing before we board. I don’t send that out just for it to be ignored.” That frown only worsened as the juvenile slouched back into the chair. He couldn’t “just pretend” as the other suggested — he couldn’t just pretend that he wasn’t dragged away from the only family he had left not even a year ago. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know he was just being used as a weapon — pretend that this had some happy story tale ending, that he was meant to be here like everyone else. No; not when his very existence here threatens the safety of the gang. It was from this vantage point he was now destined to watch the fall of everything he’s worked so hard to build up; and just the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. The longer Jesse thought about it, the more he wondered why he didn’t just choose prison...

He didn’t say anything, but after a moment of silence between the two, Jesse finally gave in and opened the file. Eyes skimmed page after page, trying to get to the end just to say he “read” it in that mocking tone of voice he knew would get on the Commander’s nerves; but plans were quickly foiled. “Wait — ” His attention fixed to a picture attached to a suspect file, Jesse scrolling through to quickly confirm his suspicions. Looking up to Reyes, he pointed to the picture, “I know this guy!”

“Hey, that was pretty good! You ever thought of joining the research division, detective?” Reyes scoffed jokingly, already knowing this information. “It’s your old buddy Alcaldo. You guys have been his weapons supplier for damn near a year now; but not just any weapons — ” He leaned down, swiping the screen himself to open up another file. Pictures of different crates, shipping orders and distinctively familiar guns filled the holopad’s screen before Reyes finished, a sternness in his voice Jesse had yet to hear before, “Ours. That you stole.”

There wasn’t any denying that. It was even Jesse’s idea. The rebel knew good and well what he did. High clientele required high end product, and what better way to obtain high end product than to just take it from someone else? “Those are military grade, energy weapons; we’re getting them off the streets before someone gets hurt — and you’re going to help me do it.”

Jesse’s brow furrowed in disapproval. He didn’t like where this was going. If Alcaldo or any of his goons saw him working with Overwatch, he would never be able to walk the streets again — well, not alive anyway. And the wake it would create would surely be enough to destroy Deadlock’s reputation; maybe that was all part of the plan? It’d be a surefire way of creating an inter-gang blood war, guaranteed.

He definitely wasn’t looking forward to any of this, but maybe it wasn't all bad. In his used-to-be line of work, knowing people is how you got by. Having someone on the inside? A dream. Gears in the back of his mind started turning. Just because they were here to do one thing, doesn’t mean Jesse couldn’t flip the script to work in his favor. The longer he mused over the concept, the more he began to accept the idea that this position might not be so bad after all.

But the gunslinger's day dream was cut short, their lift out of the station finally docked; Reyes was already halfway through the bay before Jesse peered up from the holopad, jumping from his seat to catch up with the Commander.

He buckled himself into the seat the best he knew how, death grip on the straps as their flight's twin engines whirred back to life. This was all new to him, not really having been on a plane before — much less a military cargo carrier. Reyes reentered from the cockpit, taking a seat across the aisle from Jesse as the bay doors slowly pried open. Despite his desperate attempt to hide it, Reyes could probably blatantly see the nervousness in Jesse's face; prompting a sly grin as he strapped himself down with a chuckle.

“Welcome to your first Blackwatch mission, ingrate.”

#✯ — this life's never uneventful || drabble #✯ — el мaтador × [ ic ]#✯ — тнe qυιcĸ × [ musings ]#mmm these are gonna be short #i just wanted to work on something without the pressure of pleasing anybody to be completely honest #plus i've been meaning to get this stuff on paper so here we go i guess #i hope y'all are doing well #i feel a little better than yesterday #and i really appreciate all the love y'all showed me #and i apologize to those i kinda scared :(( i didn't mean to cause alarm #but anyway it's like #5 am so im gonna lay down for a few hours then probably be back here <3 #i don't like writing more than one character at a time (which is why i roleplay instead of writing fics)#so i'm literally dying right now :)))#why am i doing this

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onthedesertwind-a · 6 years ago

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“We don’t keep secrets from our own.”

Seven words. Changed everything.

All he wanted was a god damn explanation. They’d come in the night, whoever they were, dressed in black and taking out half the raff of the gang before they were even up enough to fight back. Jesse’d gotten a few solid shots on the figures, but one got close, clocked him hard in the head-

And he woke up handcuffed to this god damn chair.

No identifying features. A metal folding chair, a metal folding table, another metal folding chair. Four walls, with one door. All in grey. He didn’t have his hat. He didn’t have his vest. He didn’t have his gun. His mouth still tasted of iron. Jesse had no idea where in the sweet name of sunset he was.

The blondie in blue with shoulders as wide as the doorway wasn’t help either, entering the room and ignoring Jesse until he sat down with some stack of papers. Asking questions, wouldn’t answer a single one, wouldn’t even tell Jesse where he was. Who he was. What the fuck was going on. “That’s classified information. Focus.” Yeah. That priss put the Ass in Classified, for sure.

Jesse told him where he could stick his questions. The man reminded him that his choice was cooperation or prison. Jesse told him he wouldn’t cooperate with people he didn’t know who the fuck they were. The conversation circled for a bit. Until Jesse hocked a loogie right into his eye. He laughed as the man stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

An empty room. Jesse snorted into the darkness. “Fuckin’ prick.”

The door opened again. Different man, same broad shoulders. Grey getup. He sat in the chair. Didn’t say a word.

Jesse paused. “...th’fuck ya waitin’ for. Ain’tcha got questions.” “Think you would have questions of your own.” “Yeah. Like where th’fuck am I, an’ who th’fuck you are, an’-” “Portland. A temporary holding cell near the West Coast operations center. And I’m Reyes.” Jesse blinked. “That was fuckin’ easy.” “I’m not here to make your life difficult, if I can help it.” The man offered far too easy a smile for a place like this. “Not anymore than I’m sure it’s already been, or is going to be.”

The stack of papers, shuffled. “McCree, I’m here to give you a choice, really. Join us, sling your gun at some people who deserve it. Or refuse, get the book thrown at you, and spend the rest of your life in a room like this, either very long or very, very short.”

Jesse met his eyes. “An’ who th’fuck are you? Blondie didn’ say shit. Or is that ‘classified information’?” The man snorted. “Jack’s always been a stickler for protocol. It’s why he’s running Overwatch.” Overwatch. Jesse’s mouth hung open, but the man didn’t stop. “And I’m a stickler for getting to the point, but to show you I’m serious. You took out three agents on your own, and then nearly evaded capture. You’ve got a bounty and a racket list a mile long at an early age. I know you’ve picked those handcuffs already. I want you for Blackwatch.”

A beat. Jesse pulled his hands up, cuff dangling from the left wrist, and set them on the table. “An’ what exactly does Blackwatch do.” The man smiled. “That’s classified.” He pulled out a pen as Jesse groaned, pushing over a paper with it. “Sign that paper and join, and everything you want to know is yours.”

Jesse sat up straighter. “Everything I WANT to know? Not jus’ what I need?” His hand drifted towards the pen.

Reyes smiled, looking right into McCree’s eyes. “We don’t keep secrets from our own.”

The page was signed before either of them looked away.

“Welcome to Blackwatch.”

#This Life's Never Uneventful : {Drabble}#The Man I Knew : {Gabriel Reyes}#You Know You Can't Shoot Him : {Jack Morrison}#Young And Dumb With A Gun : {Deadlock}#Do Something With Your Life : {Blackwatch}#It's High Noon : {Headcanon}

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bohica160 · 3 years ago

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I dont know if you do requests or not but if you do can you please do a Alpha Chris x Omega Fem! Reader who is in heavy heat but Chris was away for a bit for some of it? If you dont do requests that is totally fine! Your writing is so fucking awesome btw, it gives me life

Hewwo! This is request literally made me pause my current fic/drabble because I could not get this out of my head 😆

Also thank you so much for the kind words can't express how much it means to me 🥺❤

I honestly didn't think I was that good where people would want to request anything 😅 But if you have any or just want to simp asks and dms are always open. I will do my best 😤

I hope you enjoy this lil bit. Thank you for your support 🥺❤

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗMINORS GTFO, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Chris always made sure you had some sort of way to contact him if there was ever an emergency. However, you were always very hesitant when it came to calling him while he was away on a mission. Just the thought of interrupting something important, or possibly being the cause of a mission to go wrong, makes you anxious. You could never forgive yourself. But Chris always reassured you nothing like that would ever happen. It always felt like you were having a battle between yourself and your inner omega. It was even more of a challenge when your heat was coming up. You felt needier, even though that never crossed Chris’s mind. You figured if you were consistent with your heat medication, your heats won't be as bad if you had to manage them alone

You always thought every type of heat medication was all the same. The only difference was the name, the price, and the popularity of certain brands. However, you were so wrong when you bought some random brand you never used and your heat hit you like a truck this cycle. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, slick dripping out of your needy cunt, aching for any sort of friction. You grabbed every piece of clothing that had your alphas scent. His soothing earthy masculine scent only made your omega whimper with need. Your small soft hands couldn’t even compare to your alphas' big calloused ones. There was no way your small thin fingers could reach deep inside your core like he could. You kept glancing at your phone, desperately wanting to call Chris to hear his gravelly voice right against your ear. The thought sent shivers down your spine. You needed him so bad. You were barely able to get yourself to cum a few times with your toys, but none of them could ever compare to his thick member. Suddenly a little idea popped into your head. You grabbed your laptop from the nightstand, opened up the device, and started it up.

It had been a few days since Chris last heard from you. He figured you were busy with work or focused on one of your hobbies. Thankfully it was an uneventful day for him and his squad. He called it a day dismissing everyone before going to his hotel room. Chris seemed to be a tad distracted while he typed out his daily report. He normally wouldn’t be this worried about you while he was away on a mission, but since he wasn’t even on the same continent, the distance made his inner alpha a bit antsy. He decided to give you a call after he sends in his report, to somewhat calm his mind. The moment he hit send, a picture of you filled the screen. ‘Incoming Video Call’ He clicked on the answer button right away “Hey sweet girl, I was just thinking of you” He smiled sweetly at the camera. He quickly noticed you had the camera pointed just high enough to barely get the crown of your head. “Hey is everything okay?” Only your heavy breaths came through the speakers on his work laptop. “Honey?” You cleared your throat, “S-sorry I-....,” “Baby I need you to tilt your screen just a bit”.

“I uh,” you take in a sharp inhale. “I can’t” Thankfully Chris had his earbuds connected to the laptop, making out the small noise of you shifting back and forth on the bed. He leans back in his seat, studying your raspy breaths. “Love, show me what you’re doing.” “O-oh it’s nothing. Just uh, just -” “Show me. Now.” He commanded with a firm tone. A small whimper escapes between your lips. After a pregnant pause, Chris lets out a long sigh, crossing an arm over his chest, rubbing his palm over his face. Once you saw Chris’s blue eyes look away from the screen you slowly tilted the screen before scooching back on the bed. “Omega I’m no-” just as Chris dragged his hand down his face, he looked back at the screen. Luckily for him, his hand was covering his mouth, holding his jaw from dropping to the floor.

You were a sight to see. The man on the other end froze in place, trying to drink everything in. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, a deep flush dusted across your cheeks. Your skin glistening from the soft glow of the lamp in the bedroom. Chest heaving as you slowly grind on one of your toys. Chris slowly shifted in his seat. “Baby….. It’s too much” you whined, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from pure frustration. He leaned forward, noticing how unbearable tight his pants were getting. He cleared his throat, “Use your words baby. Tell me what’s wrong". He was doing everything in his power to try to stay in control, palming his hardening length through his slacks. “I need you” you pleaded between pants as you continued to slide the silicone cock into your needy whole. “Fuck baby girl,” he groaned.

He felt terrible at the thought of not being around during your heats. So in an ‘emergency’, he had one molded to be similar to Chris’s member, knot included. Except it was a few inches shorter and slender all around. There was no way he was going to make it an exact copy of him. The only cock he wants to completely stretch out your tight cunny is his fat cock. “Are you using the special one sweet girl?” You nodded as your glassy eyes looked at the screen. You saw Chris shuffling a bit before pushing his seat back and shoving his pants down, allowing his shaft to spring free from its confinements. Throbbing in need of your soft touch. Getting comfortable in the desk seat, he spat in his hand, rubbing it at the tip before coating his length in it. “Come on sweet girl show me. Show me how much you miss me,” he hissed through clenched teeth

You laid back onto his pillows with your bent legs spread wide, giving your mate a perfect view of your dripping slit. With the skin-toned sex toy, you rubbed the head along your sex collecting your slick. You ease in the first inch at a steady pace, giving your alpha a little show of you taking each inch in strides until the knot pressed against your lips. You pulled the firm toy from your heat until the head barely passed the first ring of muscle, then sheathing the dildo deep into your core, slamming the knot into your lips. Once you found the perfect rhythm that slowly built up the pressure deep in your pelvis, you could make out the heavy panting coming through the speakers. You tilted your head to the side just enough to see the screen, noticing Chris fisting his cock in sync with your toy, almost as if it was him who was stretching you out.

“Fuuuck, that's right, sweet girl. Keep fucking yourself on that like it's my cock. God, I want to stretch that tight cunt”, he growled mesmerized by your slick dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. Any sort of dirty talk that falls from his lips always sends ripples of pressure through your pelvis. The two of you never tried video sex, but you would both be liars if you said it wasn’t hot. Knowing you had your alpha all worked up while he was away during a mission was teetering you closer to the edge. “Shit baby, I want to see you take that knot. Can you do that for me?” he purred tightly, squeezing himself. The sounds of your wet cunt were getting him impossibly closer to his end. As you continued to pound your pussy, soaking the knot in your slick, you reached down drawing circles on your bundle of nerves. “Come on baby. Come on baby. Fuck! My sweet omega.” His fist desperately trying to match your pace.

With Chris’s words of encouragement, they pushed you to your breaking point. The knot slipping past your puffy lips, completely plugging up your cunt. The pressure bursts into euphoria in a blink of an eye, causing you to lift your bottom up from the bed with your back arching. Your clit pulsing against your fingertip, your heat squeezing the toy. Once when Chris saw the silicone knot popped into your sweet cunny, he could no longer keep himself together. Imagining it was his knot plugging you up as he paints your insides, shooting rope after rope of his thick seed. He clenched his teeth as he let out a low growl, throwing his head back, feeling himself spill all over his hand.

Both rooms filled with heavy panting as the two of you came down from your highs. He slung his head forward to see if you had calmed down, but was blessed to see you push out the knot from your core, slowly withdrawing the dildo. Just from seeing the silicon cock covered in your milky slick and your wet cunt clenching and unclenching, got his member twitching again for more. “Hey, love. I’m going to jump off and head home on the next flight” Your head shot up, hair all disheveled, “But honey, you’re at work” you let out a small giggle. You saw your man wipe his hands on a dirty shirt before he sat up to pull his pants up, “And my mate is in heat. I’m not going to let you go through it alone. I’ll text you when I’m about to leave the hotel, okay?” You shook your head with a smile before falling back against the pillows, “Don’t get in trouble Capitan Redfield” you teased. “Like that will change my mind” he replied with a chuckle.

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ°˖✧.*:･ Tag list: @thatgoblin

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #alpha chris redfield #chris redfield x yn #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x yn #resident evil x reader #omega reader #omegaverse #fem reader #request #answered asks

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years ago

Text

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 3

This fic assumes Mishima isn't a confidant, the reader is the Moon arcana instead, keep this in mind.

word count: 6.3k words, SFW

- Admin Myah

Over the next few weeks spent with Akira, or… Joker, as he seemed to be called when the situation demanded, you learned that the world was much more complicated than you ever could’ve dreamed. Sure, you praised yourself for being a little less of a sheep than the idle-brained teenagers of your everyday life who thought of nothing but gossip, status and appearances, but now you felt insignificant, like you’d been asleep all this time until Akira, Ryuji and Ann had placed six symbolic hands upon you, and shaken you to life. Layers upon layers, he explained the subconscious world that lay beneath, which ached to be revealed, only to those who’d open their eyes.

＊

It’d been a rush, your first time in the Metaverse. You’d insisted to Akira, though he protested, that you wanted to see what all of this near-unbelievable nonsense he was explaining was all about. He’d never taken non-Phantom-Thief confidants into the Metaverse, and he was hesitant, silent for a long while before deciding that your help was worth the risk. After all, he’d already told you everything, and they had no way to erase memories… yet.

You remember Akira taking your hand, the skin on skin contact. Up on the school’s rooftop with Ryuji and Ann flanking you, Akira had told you it was a precaution, to make absolutely sure that you transferred into the Metaverse with them and landed in the same place. You had to be touching one of them, for your safety, and he’d eagerly volunteered. With the cat in his bag seeming to smile at you over his shoulder (an occurrence which made you feel like you were going looney already) he tapped an app icon on his phone, some scary red little square, and with that, your body lifted, began to float, or so it seemed. Red completely consumed your vision, red and black ink like those blobs you’d seen the Phantom Thieves appear from when this all began. You gasped, stumbling back a step as if you could escape the all-encompassing wave, and Akira, sensing your trepidation, squeezed your hand slightly.

The rooftop faded, and you felt like a character from a videogame fast-traveling to their destination. Almost as fast as it appeared, the trippy red and black sludge subsided, and before you sat a dark, dreary scenery. A castle, one that obviously belonged to a malevolent ruler sat amongst a purple sky and the smell of despair.

“What the…” your mouth hung agape for a second, taking in your surroundings before letting your eyes trail down to where your hand met Akira’s. Assuming you no longer needed it, you shook him off gently, not even sparing a glance his way, and his eyebrows creased just the smallest amount, not that you noticed. You were too focused on the giant cat before you, knee-height, with a round, bulbous head. “Is… are you-?!”

“Much more handsome and dashing in this form, wouldn’t you say?” Morgana - now confirmed - gave you a sly look as you leaned down to his height to run your hand along the fur on his head.

“Wow… so cute!” You cooed.

“Hey! Stop it! Stop it! I am a warrior and to be taken seriously!” he whined, shooing away your hands, his fur on end.

“Ha!” a sharp laugh rang out behind you, and you turned to see that Morgana wasn’t the only one who’d made a drastic change. Ryuji was now clad in some kind of leather pirate’s uniform, his demeanor far more fearsome and a skull mask across his face. Ann donned a skin-tight body suit and cat mask, and Akira wore a lavish long coat, red gloves, and a masquerade mask. He looked like a magician from some fairytale, or perhaps the leader of some band of Robin-Hood-inspired band of vigilantes… although you supposed that was kind of what he was now… either way, he would make amazing source material for your main protagonist. Such swagger, a commanding presence… he didn’t seem to exactly be the same Akira you’d met earlier.

＊

The trip to the Metaverse was almost completely uneventful… almost. Just once, when you’d begged Akira to press forward and show you the inside of the castle, something called a “shadow” attacked, and you got to see the band of thieves in action. It was shocking, leaving chills running down your spine. Here were your classmates, people your age with ghost-like spirits materializing at their backs, flipping through the castle’s corridors, shooting guns and slingshots and magic at terrifying beasts. It was all so fast-paced, so stunning, that your body locked up witnessing the battle. A shadow spotted you in the background, defenseless and clearly not part of the Phantom Thief entourage, and taking the petty opportunity only a sore-loser on the ropes would take, struck out against you. You shrieked, your hands uselessly coming up to defend your face as if it would help. Akira’s eyes widened, his reflexes so much faster in this realm, and turned on his heel, diving in front of you to deflect the blast of frosty energy swirling toward you. It bounced off of the side of his large steel dagger and ricoheted back at the shadow. After assessing the situation and asking if you were okay, Akira decided it was time to return you back to the real world. It was too dangerous for someone without a persona to wander here. The thieves would return later, once you were safe at home.

＊

Anyway, now you believed him, you knew everything he was saying, about Kamoshida and his fucked up mind, about confidants, personas and metacognition was real and very much a serious matter. Now all that was left was to decide just how you could help them, what kind of deal you could strike with the clever leader of the Phantom Thieves. Of course, he didn’t expect you to get something and give nothing.

It was decided that you’d offer your knowledge as a writer to help with negotiation and charming shadows in the Metaverse. You’d turn those golden lines you wrote on the pages into real-life lessons, and Akira would learn to seduce shadows, to out-smart them, to persuade them to give up everything they had: their money, precious belongings, even their very selves. He would flirt, threaten, intimidate, any honeyed word or silver-tongued method he could use to make deals with shadows go along more smoothly. Perfect. It would help him out immensely. But, what did you want, he’d asked again.

It felt embarrassing, now that you were put on the spot, forced to disclose it, but although those “golden words” translated well into lessons for others, you found that you couldn’t as easily take your own advice. You struggled with human interaction in your real life, especially of the romantic kind. You could write a healthy relationship out on paper, create the ideal love interest from scratch for a story, but stumbled along words like some socially incompetent fool once it came time to apply that knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, these days even getting true, realistic romantic moments down on paper was a struggle. The well was drying up, writer’s block, as you’d explained it to your online friends. It was near impossible to make something from nothing, and you had nothing. No real romantic experience. You couldn’t help but think this was the route of the problem. Your writing, your precious romance novel would flourish, if only it’s author wasn’t completely clueless.

“Date me…” You mumbled, surprised out how your long moment of pensive introspection had accumulated into this clunky statement.

“What?” Akira let out a breath he’d seemed to be holding the entire time, just watching you think on what method of reciprocity was worth your help. Losing your nerve at the incredulous tone of his voice and the raise of his brows, you shrunk back a bit, ready to defend your words.

“W-wait!” You held a hand out between you. “Not really. I mean…” how to word this…? “Like, fake!” He looked even more confused than before. You released a noise of frustration. “What I mean is, you take me on dates - fake ones - stupid little stuff couples do, for my writing, of course…” You looked toward the ground, suddenly extremely interested in your shoes.

“How does that benefit you in any way?” He smiled, a bit forced, a blush dusting his pale cheeks.

“Well I- I’ve been having writer's block lately. I mean sure, I can give you lines and lessons from my previous works, drabble and things I’ve learned, written down in the past, but I have no fresh material. Stagnation is every writer’s downfall, but I have no experience, I need more to go off of… and then maybe I can even transfer what I discern from our… interactions - er… dates I mean - to you. Does that make sense?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Uh… no,” Yeah, you knew it didn’t, but that’s all you had for him. His hand shook, much less confident as Akira than Joker, and he shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s hard to explain, I just… that’s my deal. Will you take it?” You clutched your bag a little closer to your body. “We don’t even have to tell anybody. I just want to experience it… going out… with someone…” It sounded a little more pathetic now that you were actually hearing yourself. You both stood in silence, Akira contemplating your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you as a person… it was just… complicated…

“Give me a day to think about it,” he spoke quietly, giving you a polite send off before parting ways.

That night, anxiety set in as you rolled around in your bed restlessly.

Did you sound like a creep? Were you being unreasonable? Was this asking too much of him? Does he think you’re crazy? You’ll probably never hear from him again. He’d probably rather find a way in that crazy Metaverse to erase your memories so he can forget the awkward exchange ever happened. Maybe he’ll kick your shadow’s ass one day.

You debated going to school the next day.

＊

Akira’s night, though not as horrendous as yours, was not a peaceful one. Like so many nights, he found himself awoken to the clink of a ball and chain, dressed in striped rags as he stood and walked to the bars of his cell. The twins were waiting, as always, anger in their eyes.

“Look alive, prisoner!” Caroline spoke.

“Our master would have a word with you!” Justine chimed in. Akira looked up, meeting Igor’s large grin.

“You’ve forsaken a bond, Trickster. One must ask, why?” Igor’s hands splayed over a deck on cards on his desk.

“Huh…? What do you mean?” Sleep lingering in his mind, and confused as to why he was here this time, Akira replied.

“I’ve told you, the bonds you strengthen over time and the new bonds you form, they will be what wins this fight. You can only complete your mission, save all that is, through the support your confidants provide, so why have you abandoned this bond?” Igor’s fingers folded together, hands clasped, a show of disappointment. “Now is not the time to not try hard enough.” Was that a hint of frustration in his tone? If so, he didn’t show it.

“...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Akira rubbed one eye lazily.

“You’re not trying to understand, worm! Wake up!” Caroline’s fist banged down across the bars, startling Akira slightly. He looked to Igor again, who held up a single card between two fingers. On its face sat two wolves, both howling up at a glittering moon.

“The Moon.” Igor stated plainly. “Illusion, fear, anxiety, intuition, uncertainty, complexity, secrets, the unconscious mind. A friend, a possible lover, someone unsure of themselves and others. Creativity, shadowed by doubt. Someone who supports others but not themselves.” As he spoke, images of your face flashed in Akira’s mind. Igor threw the card into the air, catching it upside-down, letting the wolves fall into the moon, swimming in its glow. “Reversed: release of fear, repressed emotion, clarity, misinterpretations overturned. Someone who can fix what was upright. But you’ve passed over the opportunity.” Igor swipes his free hand in front of the card, and it disappears.

Scenes play out in Akira’s head. Confrontation with shadows, confrontations with real people, but these aren’t real… or rather, haven’t happened yet.

He receives clarity.

The Moon has more to offer than lessons on charisma, seduction, trickery, persuasion. His intuition will grow, his ability to perceive things before they happen, the ability to read and understand people, and be understood in return. Other bonds will grow, empathy will grow. More friends, closer friends, a flash of blue hair, white uniform, red hair, headphones, then a tidy uniform, a Shujin uniform, gloves, a beige jacket, and finally bouncy curls and a soft, high pitched voice. With your help, the Phantom Thieves can grow. Bonds will strengthen. Complexity, Igor had said. More than meets the eye. Was there more to you? You weren’t too bad, obviously intelligent… a bit odd, but kind enough, and he did find you cute… but pretending, a fake relationship? How could a fake bond strengthen

The card reappears, as if out of thin air, and Igor points to one upside down wolf.

“Me.” Joker whispers, as if guided by an unseen force. Igor points to the other wolf.

You.

He awakens with a start, nearly knocking Morgana off the bed. He has an answer for you now.

＊

He finds you at school the next day, huddled in the library and not where you’d said you’d meet him. You’d been dreading this, waiting for the rejection, your hand trembling slightly on the book in your hands. He sits across from you, a look of determination on his face. Waiting for him to speak was torture.

“I’ll do it.” He holds out a hand, waiting for you to shake it, seal the deal. A contact has been signed.

＊

Your first date with Akira is clunky, unpracticed, unprecedented of course. He doesn’t know much about what to do, either, so he takes you to Le Blanc for dinner. Some coffee and curry, maybe a soda and some conversation on the side? It couldn’t be too bad, right? That’s what dudes do, he thought, bring their... pretend sweetheart somewhere for dinner, right? Sojiro is teasing, of course, wondering who this new person was, why Akira was holding their hand. He smirks like a dad proud of his boy, and Akira, too embarrassed under Sojiro’s scrutiny now to sit down and serve you curry, rushes you upstairs.

After being dragged by the hand up rickety old stairs, you end up in Akira’s room alone. You look around, taking in his sparse decorations, humble belongings. It then strikes you that you are, in fact, alone. Alone with a boy in his room, for the first time in your life. You didn’t know how you got here, and so fast. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe you just needed to calm down. This was part of the process, right? Real couples did this, to get to know each other. He beckons you over, gestures for you to sit on his bed with him. You’re hesitant, but Akira isn’t making a big deal out of it, and you’re not really alone, with Morgana right there, so you sit, as far from him as you could be on the surprisingly soft bed. Struggling for words and new to dates himself, Akira decides to treat you first and foremost like his friend. That makes this all easier.

He spends the next hour or so describing Mementos, his mentor Igor, the twins. He wants you to know everything, and it surprises him. His other confidants, save for the actual Phantom Thieves, don’t know anything about the hidden world their bonds are healing. He describes the arcana to you, the tarot, the way his soul resonates with The Fool, Ryuji The Chariot, Ann The Lovers. His doctor friend is Death, Sojiro the Hierophant. Morgana here is the Magician, and proud of it. He explains how he feels a bond with them, as he now does with you. They make him feel like he can do anything. You’re included in that now. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. How could he say that so casually? It wasn’t like it was a love confession or whatever, but you had trouble seriously telling your online friends you appreciated having them in your lives without adding a joke or meme in there somewhere. Why did he even need your help? He seemed well spoken. You said so, voicing these opinions aloud.

“Huh.. you know, I actually don’t usually talk this much,” he smiled. “Must just be you.” He was only half teasing. You looked away nervously, feeling the need to change the subject.

“S-so, what am I?” You began to stroke Morgana’s fur, and this time he didn’t seem to mind.

“You mean your soul?” He scooted a bit closer.

“Yeah.” It didn’t go unnoticed.

“The Moon.” He replied softly.

He spent the rest of the night explaining the levels of Mementos, and some of the wicked people whose hearts he’s had the displeasure of seeing inside, but the absolute pleasure of changing. You say you aren’t surprised so many people are walking around so hurt inside or eager to hurt others. When the “date” ends - neither of you having even gotten that promised coffee or curry downstairs - you’re touching, sitting shoulder to shoulder looking at the moon outside his window with Morgana on your lap. The room seems a little warmer, a little less humble. Akira mentions with a sheepish grin that it’s getting late, and offers to walk you home.

Rank Up!

＊

You sit in your bed that night, Akira now having returned to Le Blanc, and think about if this will make good writing material or not. You had to have learned something, right? There was something to be gained from every experience… but you can’t help feeling like you’ve warmed up to the thought of Akira a bit more… not too much, however. You smiled to yourself at the thought of The Fool, tricked into dating the Moon, for all it can offer him.

He’d been so awkward at your front door when he dropped you off. You could tell he had no clue what to do. He was frantically looking around. People in movies kissed their date at this point, cheek or lips, depending on how the date went, right? He confessed that he’s one of those people who truly don’t know anything about romance, like you’d mentioned earlier in one of your conversations. You tell him it’s fine, that you didn’t expect anything, that you just met the other day. He thought he was being clear, dropping hints that he might want to peck your cheek, just a quick gesture to kick off your fake relationship, but maybe he wasn’t as slick as he thought. The hints seemed to go over your head. Maybe he really did need help.

＊

Your second date comes in the form of you begging to go back into the Metaverse for some inspiration. He fights you, bringing up the last time a shadow attacked you, but you are persistent. He gives in, taking you to the highest rung of Mementos, where the shadows are weak and he can keep you safe adequately on his own. It is a date, after all, no Phantom Thieves tagging along. Mementos is a bit more frightening than Kamoshida’s Palace, you mention, and he eases your fear, promising to protect you here, always. You take in his Phantom Thief uniform in more detail as you walk the long corridors of the realm of the subconscious and decide he looks quite handsome in it.

You watch him battle a demon that is the personification of lust, a succubus-like creature dripping with temptation and love, or so it thinks. Joker uses all that you’ve taught him so far, which isn’t much, and cons the false idol of love out of their money. It was quite comical yet a bit sad to watch the shadows expression fall from a cocky to a defeated one, but preformative love you’ve decided, is doomed to lose. The irony flies over your head.

From this experience, watching Joker fight with speed and grace, you settle on a genre for your novel. It will be a high-fantasy romance. Joker will inspire your main character, of course, but the love interest… was still undecided. You started drafting her to look like Ann, act like Ann, give off the energy and power Ann does. Ryuji was an option at first as well to inspire the love interest’s personality, but he was a bit too brash. You wanted someone strong, but soft and elegant at the same time. These characters were loosely based on the Phantom Thieves, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

＊

When you leave the Metaverse, though Akira is a bit exhausted, he takes you to a local casual restaurant to make up for the last time at Le Blanc. There, sitting across the counter from you two is an older gentleman. Yoshida, Akira whispers, is a friend of his, another confidant. The Sun. Yoshida makes small talk, asking politely if you’re with Akira, and you feel your stomach clench. You knew this was fake, the agreement was clear, but hearing it aloud, the awkward ‘we’re just friends’ that was coming made you sweat. It still felt like rejection anyway. When Akira confirms that yes, you are in fact dating, your eyes widen, the coil in your stomach releasing. He smiles, taking your hand. This has to be an act, a show to play up the relationship. He’s just performing his duty, his role, holding up his end of the deal in order to simulate a real relationship and give you worthwhile source material… right?

Either way, you appreciate not being publicly humiliated, and smile back. That night, you write down everything, and what it’s like to not be alone.

Rank Up!

＊

Days pass, Kamoshida coming and going, justice being served, and you spend more and more time with your fake boyfriend. Your parents let him come over, and in your room you let him read some of the old poetry you’ve written, some lame pining drabble from your younger years, and some more recent things you’re proud of. He scours your room, digging up old hobbies and photos. You tell him all about them. He tells you he enjoys learning these things about you. You simply smile. It doesn’t seem to be the reaction he was looking for. Not liking the small frown that adorns his features, you pick the conversation back up, asking if he thinks you’ll ever have a persona. He smiles, maybe someday.

Rank Up!

＊

The Phantom Thieves are gaining fame, only more fodder for your writing. The more you hang out with Akira and his friends, the more real it feels. Your online friends can feel it, too. They sense you changing, talking less of writing and more of Akira. They tease you, of course, but they don’t get it. He’s just a main character… just a muse.

This time, Akira walks home to Le Blanc alone, wondering if he should tell you how he feels. He doesn’t like it, holding up this pretense of a fake relationship, pretending the glances and touches don’t matter. He wants to tell you…

...that he’s slowly falling.

You receive a little gift in the mail the next day. It’s a deck of tarot cards. The return address is blank. You call him to tell him all about it, and end up discussing the pros and cons of each card all night. What a coincidence that you should receive your own deck all of a sudden.

Rank Up!

＊

There are moments where you’re afraid you may be falling, too. There was the time that a blue-haired young man stalked you and your friends through Shibuya, turning corners when you did, always on your trail. When Ryuji finally got fed up and confronted the weirdo, asking why the hell he was following you guys, he’d revealed that his name was Yusuke, a student of a painting master, and that he was simply following inspiration where it lead.

“Your friend there, I was drawn to them,” he points elegantly, like some manga bishounen, past Ryuji and toward you. “I beg of you, allow me to paint your form. Something about your normalcy stands out. What I mean is, there is beauty to be found in not standing out, a silent grace in being so plain.” You could tell Yusuke meant no harm, that he simply may be a bit socially inept with his words, as well, but the way he was talking about you set something in Akira on fire. He stood in front of you, shifting until his body blocked yours from Yusuke’s sight.

“They aren’t plain.” He spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone, and you felt your heartbeat speed up. The hint of jealousy in his voice at Yusuke’s request for you to model for him, and anger at him calling someone he found so fascinating plain was evident.

＊

Yusuke seemed to be in denial in the coming days. Though your little troupe seemed to constantly be bumping into him, offering him sound advice and trying to awaken him to the mire of corruption that was the truth behind his mentor, Ichiryusai Madarame, he refused to see reason. He dove further into his art, but you could tell he was hurting. You used your time with Akira these days to teach him how art, much like film and literature, can reflect false truths and influence people. The deception, corruption and shallowness of the media extended to the art world, as he learned after one or two gallery visits with you.

It was then, in a gallery displaying Yusuke’s work, as you sat in a secluded corner alone discussing ways to take down Madarame, that Akira started to flirt incessantly.

He takes your hand, bringing up romantic tropes in movies he’s seen that seem so forced, one-sided, cliche, uncomfortable. He mentions that he would’ve done better, explains how those scenes would’ve played out if he had any say.

“Is that so?” Your brow raises, amused by how animated this usually quiet boy could be when he was passionate about something.

“Yeah! Of course! What, you don’t see me doing that?” he laughed breathily, going on about how the male lead of some high-school romance film Sojiro rented for him was clumsy, forceful, and didn't give his lover time and space to think about their feelings. “I would’ve treated them much, much better… “ his words trail off, as if lost in thought.

“...Is that so?” You ask again, studying his face and asking yourself how you didn’t notice before how beautiful the hue of his eyes were. You sure as hell were noticing now… steely grey, sharp, deep, purposeful. You’d have to write that down… for research purposes of course. When you pull yourself back to reality, no longer lost in the swirl of his irises, you realize he’s staring at you, and has been for some time.

“Do… can I-” he speaks, throat dry, and scoots himself closer. “May I kiss you…?” His voice is soft, so soft, scared.

“...Yes.” You answer, naturally, impulsively, voice just as soft. When Akira leans forward, and softly presses his apprehensive lips to yours, you feel like you’ve been set on fire. Your mind begins to go crazy, while your body is frozen. It’s not that you didn’t like it, some part of you did. You wanted more, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t real. You didn’t truly like him… right? This kiss was fake, for research purposes… to cure writer’s block…

...right?

You were frozen more from guilt than nerves. Weren’t first kisses supposed to feel like little butterflies in your stomach? Did he think he owed you this? Were you taking advantage of him at this point? Did he feel forced to kiss you to keep up his end of the bargain?

Akira deepened the kiss, a hand on the back of your neck, guiding you, begging you to reciprocate. When you didn’t, lost in your own head, he pulls away, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“W-we… we should head home. I’ll walk you…” he sighs. You both stand, make your way back onto the main street from the museum, and are silent the entire walk home.

You think he’s silent because you’ve forced him to think he needs to kiss you, and now regrets his decision. He thinks you’re silent because he’s just forced a kiss upon you, just like some Chad from a movie who can’t understand boundaries. Neither of you know your silence is for the exact same reasons.

Akira drops you off at home with a quiet ‘goodnight,’ and walks home, clearing his head in the cool night air.

“Stupid… jeez… fuckin’ stupid,” he huffs, repirmanding himself. This wasn’t real. You’d stated that from the beginning. This relationship was to benefit your writing, to help him in the Metaverse, nothing else. Nothing else.

Nothing. Else.

It was his fault he let himself develop real feelings. He has no right to be sad, to blame you, to get upset. You’d stated the terms from the very start…

Maybe he really was The Fool.

Rank Up…?

＊

The next few weeks are awkward.

Both of you think it’s your fault.

You go on dates like usual, but they are strictly business. You get writing material, he gets advice, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Yusuke joins the group. Things are great… friendly… strained, tense. Akira wonders what the hell he’s doing, if this bond is even worth it. Weeks pass. He feels your bond with him growing, but not in the way he wishes. It felt like all of his other confidants: visit, gain, rank up, gain power, learn. He wonders if he can keep this up. His heart aches. He wants to touch you more, but can’t, wants to tell you more, but won’t let himself.

＊

One rainy night, he calls you, like he often does when you can’t meet up in person, and tells you he can’t do this anymore. You lie, and say you agree. The guilt won’t let you tell him the truth, that you want to end the farce, move onto something more real. You can sense your feelings for him growing stronger each day, and it’s not fair to him. Without fighting, without the big “it’s not you it’s me you” you’re used to reading about in books, you tell him you respect his decision, and it’s over. When Akira hangs up, he finds himself a bit angry inside. You didn’t even try to fight for the relationship. There was a tiny little part of him that hoped you felt anything for him, that maybe it meant something to you. He cries that night, for the first time in a long time. They are angry tears, frustrated ones.

＊

In your bed, you find yourself sitting upright, dead inside, unfeeling, empty. You feel like a part of you is gone, but can’t pinpoint why. You don’t even notice the tears sliding down your own cheeks as you sift through the pack of tarot cards that mysteriously came into your life. You find The Moon, and play with it, twisting it between your fingers before sending it flying across the room like a paper dart. Did this mean you couldn’t hang out with the Phantom Thieves anymore? Were you losing your only in-real-life friends and… boyfriend(?) all in the same day?

You sifted through the cards and gently set aside the Emperor, the Lovers, the Chariot. Then your hand drifted over the Fool. You held it out in front of your face. A dancing man looking up at the sky with a jesters cap perched upon his head smiled back at you.

The start of a great journey, freedom from constraints. Each day is an adventure. Courage, anything can happen. There is a need to experience new things, to let yourself experience the love you deserve. Be willing to take risks.

A sad, thoughtful smile crosses your lips. You turn the card upside down.

If you disregard the repercussions of your actions, you are the Fool. You cannot see the position you’ve put yourself in. Is everything what it seems to be?

A breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea hitting you. You scramble for your phone, and dial a number.

Silence, ringing, silence.

“...Yeah…?” Akira sniffles. He’s been crying???

“I want… can we talk… can I come over?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not, we came home way earlier than usual. You’re just using that as an excuse.” You were feeling a little braver than usual, the spirit of the Fool within you. You heard him thinking, a sigh that came through as static.

“Yeah… fine, I’ll be waiting.” Relief washed over you.

＊

When you knocked on the door after speed-walking to Le Blanc, Sojiro let you in with a warm smile. He obviously didn’t know about your falling out with Akria, yet.

“He’s upstairs,” he gestured, exhaustion evident in his voice. You rushed past, thanking him with a small bow of your head. Only now was the inevitable fear starting to sink in. Akira heard footsteps creaking on the stairs. Sojiro never came up unannounced, and with that realization, his back stiffened. Morgana picked up your scent, excusing himself, passing you on your way up the stairs. He could take a hint.

He stood immediately, stepping toward you, stopping halfway. You shrunk into yourself, unable to meet his eyes.

“Akira… I wanted to talk…” you muttered.

“You said that… about what?” He was more than a little pissed, but he was always one to hide his temper well.

“Can we sit…?” You gestured to his small sofa. It didn’t feel right to sit on the bed. He hesitated, before shuffling over and sitting next to you. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Oh, there were so many things, but he wanted to know what you thought was worth apologizing over. Maybe he wasn’t being fair, he dialed back his attitude a tad.

“For… making you enter into the agreement in the first place. Someone’s affections, their love, their touch and body… it’s not something that can be forced. It should never be pretend.” You felt like the biggest hypocrite ever right now. His head shook a bit in disbelief, blinking hard.

“I wasn’t pretending!” His hands flew to his hair, mussing it. “That was the problem.” He sighed heavily.

“What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I wasn’t being forced… are you… you must be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” He laughed cynically.

“But-”

“Wait, wait, why did you think I ended our” he put air quotes up, “ ‘fake’ relationship.” He needed this clarification, now. For closure, for redemption, to fix things, whatever may come next.

“Because… because I was forcing you to date me! You were uncomfortable?!” You could feel your voice begin to break, tears clawing to escape. You’d never felt so disgusted with yourself as you did right now.

“Are you serious?” He took both of your hands, looking you in the eyes. You nod. “Answer truthfully. Do you have feelings for me? Real ones?” You bit your lip, that feeling of selfish guilt creeping like bile up your throat. You nod again. “This whole time?” Another nod. He releases you, turning away. “Sheesh, maybe I’m the oblivious one here…” he spoke more to himself than to you. You both sat in tense silence, not sure what to do, what to say.

“Akira…”

“It was real to me,” he moved closer, trapping you against the end of the couch.

“Really?” Your heartbeat was going crazy, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, his hand on the back of the couch for support. “I broke up with you because it was hurting me to pretend I didn’t have real feelings for you, and to think you didn’t want me back, not for real. I thought… that you’d always think of me as just some character for your book.”

“No… Akira… had I known you felt this way…” He leaned in further, your noses bumping slightly, clumsily. This time, he felt no discomfort, no hesitation from your side. His heart fluttered in excitement. You could feel his breath on your warm cheeks.

“May I kiss you?” He asked again, a secondary, unspoken question sitting beneath his words.

“Yes.” Your voice was shaky, but you were sure, for once, of what you wanted. His hand went to your back, cradling you into his chest to lay down flat against the couch. With a passion he’d been holding back, he pressed his lips to yours without reservation. You sunk into the warm, plush feeling, tilting your head at a better angle. He kept the kiss soft, shallow, low pressure, looking for you to give him the signal to stop. When your arms reached upward, snaking around his neck and pulling him harder down into you, he groaned softly, barely audible, before passing his tongue over your lips a single time. You parted your lips, allowing him access, and his hand, pale and trembling, came up and found its way under the hem of your shirt, splayed nervously against the smooth skin there.

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