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messwriting · 4 years ago

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Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg).

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the: 🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is! Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room.

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one.

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really.

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you.

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled.

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints.

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later.

He’ll make sure of it.

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance.

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but.

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action.

One dick for life. Ha.

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself.

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words.

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass.

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides.

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body.

So fucking pure.

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever.

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch.

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now.

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride."

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet.

Pliant.

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type.

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg.

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage.

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear.

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace.

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him.

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips.

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later.

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy.

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go.

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show.

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name.

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance?

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick.

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face.

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac.

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before.

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage.

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.”

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary.

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt.

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone. “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell.

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest.

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation.

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him.

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.” His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this.

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt.

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs.

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout.

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too.

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

“I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around.

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!”

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in.

And he loves it.

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him.

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done.

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls.

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from.

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab

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ysljoon · 3 years ago

Text

Daddy’s Favorite Student|DILF!Kim Seokjin x Reader

This fanfic has mature content so please avoid if you’re not 18+.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 18 and Seokjin is about 45 years old), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please use protection people!), creampie, spanking, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving)

“Little girl you have to be fucking quiet if you want to continue doing this.”

You are in the current situation of fucking your project partner’s dad while your partner left to go get food for the both of you. You will never deny the fact that older men have always been much more attractive to you then boys your age. This rendezvous started when your teacher partnered you together with a boy that you weren’t even aware that he was in your class. His name was Kim Taehyung and you had to do your senior project with him to ensure that you would be walking across the stage with your diploma in the spring.

Initially when you were planning out your project with Taehyung he suggested to do the project at his house since it was located right next to a plaza that had a craft store with extensive selections. You rolled your eyes at the suggestion because it definitely had underlying suggestions that you were not interested in. His suggestion was something that you will be forever grateful for. On the first day of working on his project you drove to his house and knocked on the door. You were slightly annoyed since you had a heavy backpack that you were itching to take off since its heavy weight was due to all the craft supplies you thought would be useful.

You knocked again with an even heavier fist to hopefully get a response and this time the door swung open. You were instantly faced with a gorgeous man that definitely was not Taehyung. His broad shoulders had your mouth watering and you were ready to jump this man’s bones. “Oh, you must be Y/N! Taehyung told me you were coming. Sorry for his awful manners, he's in his room right now and he seems to be deaf once he’s in there.” He moved his body to the side to allow you to come inside and you ignored anything he said about Taehyung. You just wanted to stare at his plush lips all day. “I’m his father,” He stuck out his hand for you to shake it and you were in awe with how big his hand was. You knew they were perfect to manhandle your smaller frame. “You can call me Seokjin or Mr. Kim. It doesn’t matter to me I won’t give you a hard time.” He gave you a warm smile and led you to the stairs and instructed you which door was Taehyung’s. You thanked him and wished that you could spend more time with him. You knocked on the door and saw Taehyung open up with disheveled fluffy hair and wearing a white shirt and sweatpants. Definitely a lot more casual than the vintage style he sports at school.

After brainstorming and getting a rough outline of the project Taehyung was generous enough to suggest getting lunch. He originally wanted you to accompany him while he drove to the fast food restaurant of your choice, but you came up with the excuse that you’ll continue to work on the project so there will be less to do after the lunch break. He looked like he was going to try again to convince you, but he just shrugged and went downstairs to get his keys. You spied through his bedroom window to make sure he was well down the street before you proceeded to make your advances towards Mr. Kim. Just the sound of his name gives you butterflies.

You got up from the bed and slowly started to explore the upstairs part of the house and you heard busy fingers typing behind a door and you figured it was Mr. Kim doing some work from home. You tried to suppress a grin from your impulsive thought of him fucking you against his desk and making a mess all over his office. You timidly knocked on the door and held your breath while waiting for an answer. He cracked open the door and made it wider once he saw you. “Y/N is everything okay? Where’s Taehyung?” You slipped past him into his office and he closed his door behind him. “Taehyung went to go get lunch for the both of us and I was bored so I wanted to spend some time while I was waiting!” You gave him a wide smile and he nodded at your response. “Well, I don’t think I can entertain you much since I’m doing work, but you can keep me company till Taehyung gets back.” He pulled out a chair for you to sit and you watched him type away on his desktop computer. After a couple of minutes you knew you had to speed up your plan especially if you wanted to get what you wanted before Taehyung came back.

“Mr. Kim, do you have a wife?” He suddenly spluttered at the sudden question and looked at you from above his monitor. “U-uh no she’s out of the picture.” He tried to keep the answer as vague as possible, but that was all you needed to hear. You got up and made your way around the table and started to rub his back in an attempt to do a faux massage. You started to press your breasts against his back to really get him riled up and this did the trick. “Y/N what are you trying to do right now? I am a father not a teenage boy that does hookups. If that’s what you’re looking for then please go look somewhere else.” His words did not match his actions though and this made you smirk while you continued to rub his broad shoulders. “Mr. Kim, if you really don’t want this you can kick me out right now, but I don’t think that’s what you want.” You purred into his ear and in result he got up and wrapped his hand around your neck. His mood took a 180 and you were getting wetter and wetter by the second.

“Y/N, you better be ready to take whatever the hell I give you since you want to whore yourself out to me. I will make you feel like a fucking whore since you want to be one so bad.” He flipped you and had your body pressed up against the wall. He pulled down your leggings and you felt him already pressing up against your ass. He tapped between your thighs to indicate for you to spread them and you did it with no fight. He started to rub your cunt agonizingly slow to tease you and he let out a low chuckle. “I barely even touched you and your pussy is already so wet and sloppy for me. Christ, you really are a slut. I wonder if Taehyung knows how much of a slut you are.” You shook your head and stuck out your ass to press further against him.

He ripped your panties off and with no warning he slipped two fingers into you with no resistance considering how turned on you are right now. “You definitely are a whore for me, you can take two of my fingers with barely any prep. I wonder if you can take more?” You nodded and this was not the answer he wanted. He removed his fingers from inside you and gave a loud slap to your ass. “Use your fucking words. If you wanna fuck a grown man you’re gonna answer me and give me the respect a grown man deserves.” “Y-yes sir. I want more of your fingers please.” He fulfilled your request and put an additional finger in your pussy and this had you screaming out in please. If he kept this up you would be cumming in no time. You were already starting to clench and Seokjin was having none of it. “You’re gonna cum on my fucking cock and that’s final.” He took out your fingers and he left you as a whimpering mess against the wall.

“Get on your knees and do what useful whores do by sucking my cock.” You obeyed and waited with baited breath. Once he pulled down his pants your mouth instantly salivated. He was so much bigger than you could’ve ever imagined and it had your whole body tingling with excitement. You took it in your mouth and instantly you knew that you couldn’t get more than half of him down your throat. Seokjin was definitely enjoying the sight of you struggling to deepthroat his dick. “Aw, poor slut can’t even take daddy’s cock. Looks like someone should go back to fucking stupid little teenage boys.” This lit a fire under your ass and you were determined to take more of his cock now. You needed to prove yourself to him. You started to gag around him trying to take more of him and this was enough to bring him close to cumming.

He yanked your hair to remove your mouth and he slapped your cheek indicating for you to stand up. He quickly admired your tear stained cheeks and the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. Your fantasies were coming true when Seokjin came behind you and took one of your arms to bend you across his desk. You spread your legs and felt the excitement inside you when you could feel him lining up against your pussy. In one swift motion he came close to bottoming out in your pussy and you let out a screaming moan that was out of pleasure and pain. “Little girl you have to be fucking quiet if you want to continue doing this.” You tried your best to try and quiet your moans, but he just felt so fucking good. Your pussy started to clench again and you knew the tightening in the pit of your stomach was about to pop. “Yeah, be the little fucking slut you are and cream all over daddy’s big fucking cock. You’re taking me so well baby.” His words of encouragement made you completely let go and you were arching your back from how strong your orgasm was. You knew Seokjin was also close because his thrusts were getting faster and sloppier. “Fuck your cunt feels so good wrapped around me. I bet you want me to cum in you. You wanna be filled with my fucking kids huh?” “Yes fuck please! I want your cum so bad!” This was all he needed to hear and he was dumping his cum deep inside of you and it felt so good.

Once you put your clothes back on you heard the front door open. The timing couldn’t be anymore perfect. “Hey Y/N I’m back! Sorry it took so long. The traffic was crazy. I hope you’re hungry!” “I’m starving! Thanks again for the lunch, Tae.” You scampered out of the office and gave one last wink to Mr. Kim before you went to eat.

Notes: I got really inspired to write a DILF fic after reading some of @taesinferno content (which is super good go check them out!). If you enjoyed what you read then please like and reblog. If you would like to support my work further you can give me a Kofi.

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin fanfiction #kim seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts jin #smut

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years ago

Note

Since we have the sdra2 boys being a big brother to the ultimate plushie maker child reader, may I please request the dra boys being a big brother for the ultimate plushie maker child reader? Thank you.

Finally done! I thought this request was gone for sure sjgjdhg

.........

Mitsuhiro

“What did you make me, shortstuff?”

“Just um..this.” You shyly held up a plush soccer ball that you made for Mitch, a bit worried about what he would think.

But he looked impressed as he took it from your hands, tossing it in the air and catching it, grinning. “I love it!" He laughed, before he looked down at you and ruffled your hair. "Yeah I might've gotten tons of gifts, but this is the best one!”

Relieved that he liked it, you smiled back at him. “I-I’m glad, big bro. Just..try not to kick it around too much.”

“Why would I do that? I’m treating this like a trophy!”

........

Haruhiko

“Oh my god dude this is the best thing EVER!!!!!!”

“Y-You really think so?”

“I know so!” Haruhiko had stars in his eyes as he gazed at the plush airplane you made for him. He hugged it to his chest, bouncing up and down as he chanted the phrase "I love it" over and over again.

You couldn't help but giggle over how enthusiastic he was over the gift. His reaction wasn’t the kind you were expecting, but you were glad he was happy.

Though it made you wonder who was the actual child here.

..........

Kinji

You weren't sure how Kinji would react to your handmade plushie, which was a simple blue, black, and white dove.

But as you handed it to him, the small smile that adorned his face made your worries go away. "This is a lovely gift, [y/n]. Thank you." He spoke, his thumb running over the soft texture. "I'll be sure to cherish it. But...what prompted you to make this?"

"O-Oh..um..nothing.." You smiled shyly, hands behind your back. "Just wanted to give my big bro a gift. For b-being so nice and caring."

The priest nodded, his smile only growing. He was used to receiving gifts from the children at the orphanage, but this is one he'll be sure to protect at all costs.

........

Tsurugi

"And if I catch any of you trying to steal from them again...you'll be sorry."

Tsurugi's trademark glare was enough to make the teens run away. Once they were out of sight, he huffed and turned back to you, kneeling down to make sure you weren't hurt. "It's alright. They learned their lesson and-"

He was surprised when you suddenly hugged him. "Th-Thank you big bro Rugi.." You whispered tearfully. "They were..j-jealous of my talent...that's why they tried stealing from me.."

The cop was unsure of how to react at first, but his arms slowly found their way around you. He noticed the police car plushie that fell out of your bag, though he elected to ignore it for now and held you close. "It won't ever happen again. I’ll protect you no matter what."

It would be a difficult promise to keep...but for you, he'll try.

.........

Yuki

"Wh-What? You're giving this..to me?" The lucky student was baffled as you presented the stuffed orange bear to him, smiling.

"Yeah..I-I'd like you to have it.." You insisted. “For being the..coolest big bro.”

He couldn't comprehend the idea of accepting something from an Ultimate--especially a child. But he knew it would be rude not to, so he took the bear and looked at it, seeing that the clothes mimicked his uniform, red tie included.

"Do you like it?"

"I do." Yuki smiled as well, hugging it to his chest. "Thank you."

........

Teruya

"C'mon!! I got just tha' materials ya need!"

"A-Ah!" Before you knew it, you were being dragged all throughout the Otori Mart while the Ultimate Merchant laughed as he ran with you.

Eventually he let go of your hand once you arrived in front of a bin, which he dug through. "So whatdya need? I got any color you can think of!" He starting pulling out felt material.

Once you caught your breath, you listed several colors that you wanted to use. And he piled the material into your hands, only stopping as you mentioned green, black, and red.

“..wait..ain't those my colors?" He looked at his clothes, then back down at you in question.

You just smiled. "I-I wanted to make a plushie for the best big brother. So I needed your colors."

For a second he stared at you, but it wasn't long before tears pricked his eyes. "Y-Ya wanted to make me somethin'..? Oh, I can't wait!" He grinned excitedly, almost jumping up and down. "Thank ya, thank ya, thank ya!!! Never had anyone make me anythin' before!!"

......

Kakeru

You knew Kakeru had dealt with a difficult case today, judging from how stressed he seemed when he returned home.

Fortunately you made him something while he was out to cheer him up. You had no idea what lawyers would like, so you crafted a fireball-shaped plushie inspired by the tank top he wore on his days off.

When you presented it to him once he was out of his “lawyer mode”, he was more tearful than you expected. But he grinned as he scooped you into his strong arms, hugging you and the fireball tightly.

"Thank you so much! I love it! B-But..you didn't have to go through the trouble of making this for me." He muttered.

"It..was no trouble for me, it's my talent after all." You reminded, hugging him in return.

You were glad you weren't intimidated by him anymore.

......

Yamato

"You know I'm always making stuff for people...but this is amazing!! I get something made by the Ultimate Plushie Maker!!"

"I-I'm glad you like it, big brother." You just smiled, happy to see Yamato hugging the robot plushie like an excited kid.

You figured the inventor could have a companion in the lab, since he sometimes got lonely working on projects for hours on end.

He was beaming as he set it on his desk proudly. "I promise I'll take good care of him! He shall be named...Yamato 2.0!!! Don't you agree?"

"A-Ah..haha...sure. That's a good name."

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demomonic-murmurs · 4 years ago

Note

Hii!! Can i make a request? I really loved your shimizu & yachi threesome!! Can i ask for a tribbing/scissoring follow up for it?

Another Lesson [Kiyoko × Reader × Yachi]

Yes hello anon I love you please always ask me for more wlw content.

This is a continuation of this story I wrote for my Kinktober prompt list.

Pairing: Kiyoko × Reader, Yachi × Reader, Kiyoko × Yachi

Summary: Kiyoko and you teach Yachi a few more things about the beauty of gals being pals. She is an eager learner.

Tags: Threesome, F/F/F, Kiyoko and Reader are in a steady relationship and Yachi joins in, Heavy Make-Out Sessions, Fingering, Tribbing, Scissoring, Sex Toys, Spit, Squirting

Yachi was adorable really. When [Name] and Kiyoko had invited her for an arts and crafts night, she had been ecstatic. They almost felt bad for using it as an excuse to indulge her again.

Sex with Yachi had been pleasurable for the three of them and [Name] felt oddly excited whenever she thought about the petite blonde joining them again. There was something about the way she could show Kiyoko's flushed face off, eyes red from crying and sobbing, mouth agape, drove running down looking absolutely fucked. Their first time with Yachi had been fairly vanilla, easing her into the idea that yes, two women could be together as well, a concept Yachi had been aware of and fantasized alone in her dark dorm room, desperately humping against the pillow for friction.

But [Name] wanted more. She wanted to show Yachi more. As much as she wanted to know. As much as she wanted to indulge them. As much as they wanted to induldge her.

The evening started off in a decent manner. [Name] knew about Yachi's love for scrapbooks and suggested it as an activity they could partake in over at her and Kiyoko's shared apartment. Such an innocent activity really. Yachi was nervous regardless, as if she was already anticipating something, hoping for something. She had been over at their place before. Kiyoko had been one of her best friends since high school and [Name] was someone she felt at ease with. The source for her anxiety was more so the fact that the last time she had been over they had done... it.

"Relax", Kiyoko murmured and rested a hand on Yachi's shoulder in a comforting manner before sliding down on the floor next to her, putting the plate of tea down on the table cluttered with various colorful pieces of paper, scissors and glue.

Yachi shuddered at the contact and thanked her upperclassman. [Name] returned as well, carrying a stack of pretty looking pieces of leftover fabric. The blonde knee that the taller girl liked to sew in her free time but was delighted all the same that she wanted to share something important to her with Yachi as well.

Yachi's instructions were easy to follow. It was easy for [Name] to understand why Yachi had been in a university preparation class. She carefully constructed ideas that seemed plausible to the two lovers. The way the usually meek and shy girl spoke with so much vigor in her voice was beyond endearing to see for the two of them.

Eventually, they began to finish their projects up and Kiyoko excused herself to the bathroom. [Name] understood her girlfriends signal and rested a hand on Yachi's thigh. She tensed up and flushed, hands gripping on the sheet of paper she was trying to put away. The blonde let out a squeak when [Name] began to draw circles, fingers dragging across her clothed thigh. Yachi could feel a weak spike of arousal shooting through her.

"I didn't mean to startle you Hitoka", [Name] murmured, her movements halting, "If you don't want to-"

"Please", Yachi yelled, shutting her eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"...no please continue... I... want to..."

[Name] smiled. "Can I kiss you Hitoka?"

Yachi nodded feverishly. [Name] cupped the petite woman's cheek and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, first softly before gripping at her thigh again, making Yachi gasp and granting [Name] access to her mouth. With her tongue moving against her own, Yachi could only squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to get some relief against the wetness forming between her legs. She leaned back, only to hit something soft.

"Oh. You have started without me."

Kiyoko's calm voice brought Yachi back to reality. She broke the kiss and turned her face to meet her upperclassman's gaze and Yachi could feel her words die on her still tingling tongue.

Kiyoko's colour was purple. A dark shade of purple. Alluring and mysterious. The thight lace hugging her skin looked divine, intended. The stark contrast of purple against her pale skin accompanied by her luscious black hair and storm grey eyes made her look even more like a goddess than she usually did.

"She is gorgeous isn't she?", [Name] whispered, hand resting on Yachi's shoulder just like it had earlier today. "I designed it myself. But if you ask me I would've gone for a see through fabric around her breasts. And something more thong like for her panties."

Kiyoko flushed before whacking her girlfriend on the head.

"You are definitely a reflection of Aphrodite my love. Absolutely and utterly horny", she uttered, rolling her eyes.

Somehow, they always managed to calm her nerves. Even now, with Yachi's arousal making her panties stick uncomfortably against her pussy and Kiyoko sitting behind her in the most gorgeous pair of lingerie she had ever seen, she felt calm.

"I could make you a set as well", [Name] stated casually, "I'd just have to take your size."

[Name]'s hand wandered alongside her waist before coming to a halt at her chest, gently cupping her breasts. Yachi let out a squeak and tried to spin around again, back to facing [Name] but was stopped in her endeavor by Kiyoko's plush lips.

Kissing Kiyoko was different from kissing [Name]. [Name] was wild. Her kisses left you breathless, yearning for more. Kiyoko's were slow and sensual, soft and gentle in their nature. Yachi felt as if she had ascended. Being trapped between the two hottest women she had ever layed her eyes upon fulfilled every fantasy she had developed after accidentally stumbling upon a yuri manga one of her teammates had left in high school. (She was still sure it was either Tanaka or Nishinoya, which made her wonder what they'd say seeing Kiyoko, seeing her like this.)

"I think you'd great in stockings. Something flowey and soft. A soft pastel pink would definitely be your colour", [Name] continued, thumbs brushing against Yachi's nipples. She moaned, muffled by Kiyoko's skilled tongue dragging across hers.

"I think so too", Kiyoko murmured against her neck after breaking the kiss, leaving Yachi gasping for breath, "maybe strawberries could fit her as a theme. Maybe a strapless bra with a heart cut out right here."

Kiyoko rested her hand right between Yachi's breasts, which were still pleasured by [Name]'s hands.

"I really don't- ah- know if that would look so- so good on me", Yachi whimpered self-consciously, tears forming in her eyes, a mix of pleasure and hesitation swirling in her hazed brown orbs.

"It would", Kiyoko said simply, grasping Yachi's shirt and pulling it above her head.

"I absolutely would", [Name] agreed and lifted her up slightly so her girlfriend could pull off Yachi's pants.

There was a dark wet spot on Yachi's white panties that she felt embarassed for possessing. Still dazed, Yachi barely even noticed [Name] opening her baby blue bra and letting it slide down her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air of the apartment.

"Your boobs are so cute Hitoka", [Name] squealed excitedly, "I can't get enough of them. So adorable and perky. Plus you have pretty nipples."

Yachi yelped out in surprise and felt the heat rise back into her face. [Name] was forward and it left Yachi more than breathless.

"Don't mind her. She just has a preference for... breasts", Kiyoko sighed.

[Name] laughed and nodded before turning to Yachi. "She says that as if she doesn't like the attention. She does. I made her squirt once after I sucked on her nipple. Ms. prim and proper is more into it than she allows herself to be."

Yachi let out a short, breathless snort that she would have normally felt embarrassed about but they put her at ease. Any feeling of isolation or anxiety vanished as soon as she heard [Name]'s teasing voice or felt Kiyoko's comforting touch.

"So now that the lust has temporarily passed should we change the setting back into the bedroom? I dunno if uh- the prospect of getting cum over our cute scrapbooks is a thing to look forward to", [Name] stated, her hands still resting casually on Yachi's breasts.

It was cold without them shielding her boobs from the cool temperatur, Yachi thought as they shuffled from the living room into Kiyoko and [Name]'s bedroom that felt all too familiar in that setting. It was messier than last time, which meant that they had probably been a bit anxious having her over as well. The thought comforted her.

"Come here Hitoka", [Name] said, pulling her out of her thoughts. After undressing, she had seated herself on the bed, Kiyoko behind her, her head resting on her girlfriends shoulder and [Name] was patting on the space on her lap.

Yachi gulped, her hands wandering to her underwear, before remembering how wild [Name] had gotten the last time when Kiyoko was still wearing her panties and decided against it. Trying it out couldn't hurt. She knew it was fine if she told them to stop at any moment.

"Good. One leg on each side of my thigh. Lower yourself into a comfortable position okay?"

Yachi nodded, though could barely contain a whimper as she felt her clit brush against [Name]'s leg. Her hands had found their way around her neck where Kiyoko had intertwined their fingers in a comforting act while [Name]'s had wrapped around Yachi's waist. From her position she could only look into Kiyoko's eyes, lust buried under a thick layer of reassurance for the sake of her comfort and feeling of security.

"Rub yourself against me Yachi. Your tempo okay?", [Name] said, her fingers running comforting circles on Yachi's thin waist.

Yachi nodded and bit her lip as she pushed herself against the older woman's leg. She let out a moan, her legs shaking, unable to stop her from falling forward, her head resting against [Name]'s shoulder.

"Is too much", Yachi whimpered, "Wanna move but its too difficult."

Her pitiful gaze locked with Kiyoko's who held her hands a little tighter, offering her words of encouragement.

"That's fine baby", [Name] said, her voice vibrant next to her ear, "Do you want me to move you?"

Yachi nodded furiously and the grip on her waist loosened as [Name]'s hand wandered lower.

"If it's too much, tell us", Kiyoko said as she scooted to them so she was now sitting flush against her lover's back, her face just a few centimeters away from Yachi's.

[Name] rested her foot at one of the wooden planks of their bed so Yachi was now sitting a little elevated and let her lower body slide down her leg.

Yachi let out a loud moan, the fabric of her panties rubbing deliciously against her clit. The noises were eagerly swallowed by Kiyoko who had let go of one of Yachi's hands to cradle her face instead as she moved her tongue against the blonde's.

Her mind was hazy as [Name] moved her up her leg again, this time pushing her down more firmly. Her pussy was aching, enjoying the friction but not satisfied, throbbing for something, anything inside, filling her up.

"Fuck you're so wet Yachi", [Name] groaned as she flexed her thigh sending a jolt through Yachi's core. Her pace grew rougher, increasing in speed. Yachi broke the kiss with Kiyoko and moaned, resting her forehead on [Name]'s shoulder. Kiyoko didn't rest however, sneaking her arms under her girlfriends to gain access to Yachi's nipples, pinching and groping them eagerly.

Yachi let out a shrill squeak when she felt herself growing close to her release, the familiar heat building up in the pit of her stomach. [Name] wrapped one arm around her waist, making her arch her back and her chest closer to Kiyoko's greedy hands, and let her now free hand wander down to Yachi's clit. Each grind allowed [Name]'s fingers to brush over Yachi's clit and ever so slightly push in the velvety warmth of her walls.

Trying to chase that feeling of satisfaction, Yachi steadied herself on her shaky knees and lifted herself up before beginning to shakily fuck herself on [Name]'s fingers, pressing her chest against [Name]'s, trapping Kiyoko's hands accidentally between them.

[Name]'s pushing and pulling stilled as she felt in amazement the way Yachi was rolling her hips against her, trying to rub her clit against [Name]'s wrist. Her thin cotton white panties were ruined by this point as Yachi desperately tried to push more of [Name]'s fingers inside of ger only to be obstructed by the devilish material in their path.

[Name] cooed and obliged Yachi's wish and pulled her panties to the side so her fingers could reach her properly.

Yachi screamed when [Name]'s fingers sheated themselves fully inside of her, the stretch of her two digits being too much for the petite blonde. Regardless, Yachi's grip on [Name]'s shoulders tightened as she continued her brutal pace, Kiyoko's fingers pinching and rubbing her and [Name]'s nipples together nearly enough to send her over the edge.

"Kiyoko", Yachi sobbed, tears welling in her eyes. The dark haired beauty stopped trailing kissing on her girlfriends naked shoulder and locked eyes with the wrecked blonde, who dove in to kiss her desperately. The kiss was clumsy and startled Kiyoko but she returned Yachi's eagerness.

[Name]'s fingers brushing against Yachi's sweet spot was enough to drive her over the edge. Yachi let out a loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, her cum splattering against [Name]'s hand and thigh.

Her chest was heaving rapidly as [Name] lowered her on the bed and Kiyoko cleaned the wetness on [Name] and Yachi with a towel. As her hand softly brushed against Yachi's abused cunt by accident while cleaning her thigh it twitched weakly and Yachi let out a small whimper.

"You're a horrible influence on her my dearest. Look at her already craving more again... she must have used you as an example."

"I think you're the worse influence."

"Says the woman who got off on watching her friend cum. You're close aren't you? I can't blame you, I'm feeling quite turned on myself. Do you want to-?"

"Yes."

"You're so cute when you're eager."

The conversation barely made sense in Yachi's hazy mind. Only slowly was she regaining her ability to think. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs not having quite left her body just yet.

Kiyoko's loud moan distracted her from continuing the thought, if you could really call it that, and she haphazardly pulled herself and to choke at the sight before her.

Kiyoko's legs were spread and she was laying halfway on her stomach, her bra and panties discarded to the side, her heavy breasts gravitating towards the soft mattress underneath them. [Name] was kneeling between her legs, trapping one of her legs while resting the other one on your shoulder.

[Name] was rutting against her and Yachi could see something pink entering and leaving their pussies. She was mesmerized by the fast and brutal pace [Name] was setting, much more feral than she was with her. Her gaze fell on Kiyoko and she felt a jolt of arousal shooting through her core.

Her face was erotic, something straight out of a hentai or porno, or at least what Yachi thought it would look like. Her hair was dishevled, her tongue was sticking out drool dripping on the soft matress underneath them, her eyes were rolling back in her head, her breast pouncing against the sheets nipples gracing them ever so slightly and her moans were titillating.

"She is so hot like that isn't she?", [Name] grunted out and doubled her efforts after Kiyoko let out a particularly loud moan after the dildo had brushed against her sweet spot.

"What... what is that?", Yachi asked, breaking her gaze with [Name], her eyes flickering to the pink monstrosity. [Name] smirked.

"Its a double headed dildo", [Name] explained,"We enjoy them a lot because we can do this."

[Name] pushed her hips down, forcing more of the dildo to be swallowed by Kiyoko's puffy pussy. She angled her hips and let their clits brush against each other, inducing a loud moan between the both them.

"Kiss her Yachi. Show us what you've learned", [Name] breathed out, rocking her hip against Kiyoko's, enjoying the friction this position was giving them for their clits.

Yachi nodded and crawled forward. She was wet again, the juices running down her thighs.

"Kiyoko", Yachi murmured, hands cradling her upperclassman's soft cheeks. Her eyes were hazy, almost unable to focus on Yachi, an almost dumb smile gracing her lips.

"Open your mouth", Yachi commanded, shocking herself with the authority in her voice. The black haired beauty did as she asked, opening her mouth eagerly for whatever the blonde woman had in store for her.

Yachi steeled her nerves and pressed her lips to Kiyoko's, her tongue twisting around hers just like [Name] had kissed her earlier. Kiyoko did not attempt to fight back whatsoever, enjoying Yachi's assault on her mouth. Yachi bit down on Kiyoko's lip until she could taste the blood on her tongue.

"Just like that Yachi", [Name] praised, the fingers of her free hand finding her aroused cunt and pushing two fingers inside of her.

Yachi broke the kiss and let out a moan, surprised by the sudden intrusion, the grip on Kiyoko's face tightening as their share spit ran down Yachi's lips, dripping into Kiyoko's mouth who eagerly swallowed it.

"Cumming", [Name] grunted, followed by a incohesive moan from Kiyoko and a yelp by Yachi as she buried her fingers deeper into her pussy.

"Holy shit Yachi", [Name] panted out, Yachi's head snapping back, "She is squirting."

Holy shit indeed, Yachi thought as she watched Kiyoko's juices squirt out of her, drenching not only herself but [Name]'s stomach as well. Then she went slack, panting heavily, trying to regain her breath.

[Name] pulled the toy out of her pussy but left in Kiyoko's side of it.

"She doesn't like to be empty immediatly after", [Name] explained, grabbing a paper towel from her night stand to wipe away Kiyoko's cum from her stomach.

"What exactly was that?", Yachi asked, her eyes still glued at Kiyoko's cunt which was red from all the abuse it had experienced today, now matching her swollen lips.

"Squirting", [Name] said, "One of the hottest things a woman is capable of doing. Kiyoko's a squirter. She's just too sensitive after all."

Yachi wasn't exactly sure what that meant but just settled on googling it later. She didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You didn't get to finish yet did you?"

"Ah, no it's fine-"

"Do you want to try it too? We have a smaller one we could practice with first and then", [Name] mused, glancing at her close to being passed out girlfriend, "you could take my position and I will guide you along. Poor Kiyoko didn't have her fill yet but she needs a moment."

Yachi shuddered, remembering the last time. They had been awake almost the entire night trying to satsify Kiyoko.

"I'd love to try out", Yachi said, trying to hide her excitement as her pussy twitched, awaiting the attention.

Girls love was the best in the end.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #kiyoko x reader #kiyoko smut #hitoka yachi x reader #yachi x reader #yachi x y/n #yachi x you #kiyoko x y/n #kiyoko x you #shimizu kiyoko x reader #kiyoko shimizu x reader #yachi hitoka x reader #yachi x kiyoko #kiyoko x yachi #yachi smut

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tigerseye46 · 4 years ago

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New prompts you say?? How's about #126,“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.” with Chimerashipping? Specifically with Red Son coming to realize he likes Mei and MK A LOT more than he planned to happen?

Ngl, I think this was one of my favorite fics to write. I’m going to apologize in advance to everyone again on how long this took.

126. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.”

They were in Qi Xiaotian’s bed having a nice relaxing time in those rare moments they had when they weren’t fighting demons or getting into trouble. Xiaojiao was lying on her stomach, her legs on Red’s lap while she scrolled through her phone. Xiaotian leaned up against the demon, facing away from Red, he had his nose in his sketchbook. Red, on the other hand, was tinkering with an old device in his hands. If he wasn’t fixated on his current project, his hair would have flamed up in embarrassment after noticing the domesticity of the scene.

He was puzzled when a single touch from them made his heart race, how protectiveness and jealousy sparked up in him when the two interacted with any person outside their normal group. He pondered that maybe it was just because they were his first real friends. He tinkered away at the machine and thought back to the past, how he used to fight the monkey king and almost won, his punishment as Guanyin’s disciple, going back to his mother, freeing his father then finally his second redemption.

The demon was grateful towards the two and their friends for accepting him, originally he had become their friend under a scheme, he pretended his parents had kicked him out. No matter how he refused their help and pushed them away, they never gave up on him and that was what made him defect for real. Now, his life was better than it ever had been before, he owed them. Red Son smiled as Xiaotian leaned up further against him, he felt his heart race.

He took a glance at MK, the boy’s tongue out in a concentration, the gentle strokes he makes with his pencil, the cautiousness as he erases a line, gently brushing away the eraser shavings. Red’s heart leapt, he loved seeing the other boy like that, carefully making sure every detail was beautiful, building up his skills despite the fact that he already perfected his craft.

He gazed at Xiaojiao, focused on her phone and swinging her legs back and forth on his lap. He held back the content sigh threatening to escape from his lips, this was bliss, this was peace. He pondered how he managed to get lucky enough to have friends like them.

Xiaojiao was rather beautiful and Xiaotian was gorgeous, they both were kind souls and wait what- what did he just think? Did he just think they were… okay so maybe his brain was fried from working on the invention, he put it aside, he really needed a break.

He glanced at them again, they were cute- and ack! He wanted to smack himself so maybe their physical appearances were a bit nice but it’s not like it meant anything. He ignored the thump of his heartbeat. People can like each other’s physical appearance just fine without being necessarily attracted to each other but they were his friends, he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized something. He enjoyed their kind nature, the way those two were practically in sync, how they cared for them, how they were both unique in their own way. His heart pounded and he was sure his face was pink.

He questioned it a bit more, how a single touch sent sparks up his arm, his envy when they associated themselves with another person, how they accepted him even when he had attempted using them as pawns in the beginning. Red remembered when his mother, back when they were a happy family, would tell him stories about how she realized she was in love with father.

The signs she told him had made him hold back a slight gasp. He was in love with Xiajiao and Xiaotian.

Red’s palms began to sweat, they were his first real friends and now it just hit him that he was in love. Would this ruin their relationship?

He didn’t want this to change anything between them. He could hide it. He would definitely hide it. They didn’t need to be bothered by unwanted feelings. Red felt Xiajiao swing her legs back and forth again and a gentle hum escaping from her lips.

Red sighed, his mood dampened and he clutched his chest. He wished the thought had never occurred to him.

Xiaojiao and Xiaotian noticed their friend’s contemplative gaze directed towards the plush sheets.

“What’s wrong, Red?” Xiaojiao asked.

He mumbled, “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” He hid his face away from them.

The two exchanged glances. MK tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just… I didn’t expect to find such good friends,” he excused. “You two are my first real friends.” He couldn’t just flat out admit he had feelings for them, that was crazy, he was still trying to sort it out in his head.

“Awww, Red,” MK cooed. “Well you have us now!”

“Yep,” Xiaojiao exclaimed. “You have us! We’re your friends now!”

The demon used his fist to hide his nervous cough. “Thanks.”

“So what do you want to do, bestie?”

“Huh?”

“Well as your friends, you should have an opportunity to pick what we’re going to do!”

“I… I don’t know. We don’t exactly share the same interests.” He was sure he was practically a tomato at this point.

“So? We still want to know more about you! What are you working on?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to know what I’m working on?” His mouth hung open in disbelief. They had asked him about his projects a dozen times before and even now, he couldn’t believe it. Usually when he got into a project, he loved to explain every little function, every little detail but his parents had never cared about any of that. They just cared that it was finished.

Xiaotian bobbed his head up and down rapidly. “Of course we do! It’s important to you so it’s important to us!”

The girl agreed with a “Yea!”

“Umm… well… okay. It’s not much.” He gestured to it. “Uhhh… Noodle Boy, Dragon Girl?” They looked at him expectedly. “Thank you. Thank you for being my friends.”

They wrapped their arms around his neck. “You never have to thank us,” She said.

“Yea! You’re awesome! We love you, Red!” That declaration made him turn to his attention back to the covers, his hair shot up a bit in flames.

His pulse quickened. It wasn’t an ‘in love’ confession but it was something, he was happy with this. “I… I… I love you too,” he muttered, continuing to gaze at the sheets, completely missing the blush on his companions’ cheeks.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #long xiaojiao #mei #red son lmk #red son monkie kid #red son #qi xiaotian #MK #chimerashipping #my fic

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quasieli · 4 years ago

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top six: fictional characters that give you gender envy, flowers, little things that make you happy and d&d moments :D

Ooh lotsa questions!

Gender Envy:

1) Bow from She-Ra (2018). Something about buff athletic dude who wears crop tops and is soft as hell is very Gender to me.

2) Vax from Critical Role. Pretty boy, kinda goth rogue? That’s sexy as hell and I wish that was me.

3) In a wildly different idea of gender envy, I’ve been thinking about it lately and @quantum-lesbian’s character in the Frostmaiden game I’m in with them, Ambrose, is Big Gender. Beautiful non-binary drow with a starry and kinda witchy aesthetic that dresses super grandly and ostentatiously no matter the occasion? Yes please.

4) Pete from The Unsleeping City, specifically season two. I adore season one Pete but season two Pete that works in a queer bookshop and has a teapot arcane focus, is artsy and is unapologetically a trans man who doesn’t give a shit about gender roles? Sign me the fuck up.

5) Beau from Critical Role. Buff GNC lesbian mixed with academia, but like academia from the prospective of a grad student with ADHD trying to learn everything about their special interests? A+, I love her and I’m jealous.

6) I’m gonna cheat a lil bit for this last one. I know the prompt is fictional characters, but Julia Lepetit and Jacob Andrews in their Hitman streams? Simultaneously both of them were Gender for me. Jacob esp felt like that for me, which is weird cause dresses can make me dysphoric, but I am also slightly envious of the Dude in a Dress type of gender presentation.

Can you tell that I’m a confused trans masc enby

Gonna put it under the cut from here cause oof, there’s still a lot more.

Flowers:

1) Big slut for Sunflowers, always have been, always will be.

2) Fun fact, my dad’s family used to own a flower shop (in like the 70s, so I never got to see it :(), and one of their big things was hydrangeas. My dad has always loved them and now I love the snowballs too!

3) A recent favorite, the Baker’s Globe Mallow. It’s a type of flower that only grows from the soils of forests that have been affected by wildfires. It’s a simple little flower but I love the idea of something beautiful rising from the ashes after tragedy. A little dramatic, but I’m queer, ofc I’m dramatic.

4) Roses are another important flower to my family (Rose was a family name for a couple generations), and ya know, they’re a classic.

5) There’s this beautiful magnolia tree in front of my house that blooms with the most beautiful white and pink flowers every spring, and it’s one of my favorite things to see every year.

6) There’s so many different types of Lillies and they’re all very pretty, but the Purple Stargazer is prob my favorite.

Little Things That Make Me Happy:

1) My cat, Maddie. She may be a cranky girl at times, but she is also very sweet and will always be my baby (even though she is 12).

2) Not a little thing really, but my best friend. Just getting a sweet/silly text from her or the two of us chilling in a room, sitting in a comfortable silence because we just like being together, nothing better.

3) Baking, esp if I’m doing it for others. I’m not much of a sweets person myself, a little treat every once in a while type person, but I love baking. It’s a very relaxing process for me, even when it can sometimes get stressful, but seeing people enjoying something I made, especially something that brought me great joy to make, is simply the best.

4) In the same sorta vein, crafting and other art, but that’s a bit more personal. I love making things for others, but art, particularly drawing, is something I do more for me. It’s such a great feeling when you can get into a really good art mood and just sink yourself into a project. I love it.

5) My plush toys. Yes, I am a 23 year old, no I will not stop loving my plushies. I just got a few new friends, which I made a post about recently, and they such good cuddle buddies. However, there is one king amongst them all. I have this old, beat up christmas puppy beanie baby, on his tag named Jingle Pup, but I just call him Jingle. I had one version of him since I was like 6, but he currently lives on a shelf cause he is very beaten up and fragile, but his “brother”, who I got when I was 8, is still in kinda good shape and is currently chilling on my chest as I type this lol.

6) Again, not a little thing, but it’s important to mention; D&D. The game itself is such a joy, but truly the best part of it is the people. I love creating stories and memories with people through this weird little game. Truly one of my favorite things to do.

D&D Moments:

These are all gonna be personal moments, rather than anything from actual play shows/podcasts. RC is Reforged Campaign, where I play Saube, and FM is Frostmaiden, where I play Sparks.

1) RC - Meeting Mahety, Saube’s girlfriend. We met her way back in session 12 and we are now up to like session 73. Saube saw her and was immediately big heart eyes at her but also felt a bit awkward and shy. So, being a game a dice, I decided to roll. 10 or higher, Saube would talk to her, 9 or lower, she’d stay put. I rolled a 17, 17 is now a lucky number for me. I love Mahety and I’d die for her.

2) FM - This was an insane fight that should not have been so crazy, but in a fairly early session, my group went up against an angry druid and her awakened animals. So much batshit stuff happened in that fight, and we unfortunately lost our bread loving bard (RIP Agneyis), but one of my favorite combat turns happened in this fight. Our artificer, Omaren, has a robe of useful items and one of the patches on it creates a large pit. Thinking quickly, Omaren tore off the patch, slid it under one of the dire wolves we were fighting and created a looney tunes style pit under it, allowing us to take it out easily via pot shots. Such a clutch move and such a funny visual, especially because the dire wolf kept failing the checks to get out of the pit.

3) RC - Saube’s Zebrith (I will never remember how this actually spelled RIP). So, for context, Saube ended up with a death curse (long story) that mechanically meant they had disadvantage on any death saving throws. Scary as hell, need to get that fixed! So, Saube and their party had to be smuggled into another country to talk with some religious leaders of a goddess known as The First, the goddess of death. They were told that Saube would have to go through the aforementioned ritual, which included her soul leaving her body for a short period of time. During this ritual, her friends had to call back to her, to say things that would bring her back to her body and I still cry thinking about that game. That ritual was not only important for Saube bodily, but spiritually as well. After that ritual, Saube officially became a cleric of The First!

4) A real sappy one, RC - Saube meeting all of her friends. Anyone who follows along with the rantings on my blog probably knows how important this game is to me. I met this random group of strangers on tumblr and formed a D&D party with them and now, a year and a half later, I honestly think it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I know that sounds silly and dramatic but not only has this game brought me so much joy and comfort, but I also gained a group of really amazing friends who have been nothing but amazing since day one. As much as Saube knows she can depend on SICL, I know I can depend on my group of weirdos lol. We both love our friends very much and even though we’ve all been through some crazy shit, we wouldn’t change it for the world.

5) RC - Just playing Saube in general. I really didn’t intend for it to be this way, but Saube is very much a reflection of myself. She is the first long term character I have ever played and so much of me is in her. I try not to treat D&D like therapy, because that’s unfair to my DM and fellow party members, but playing Saube has allowed me to work through some of my own problems, especially social anxiety, in a lot safer of an environment. It isn’t so much that I’m asking this game to help me fix my life, but playing out these scenarios that, in the real world, would make me anxious or make me freak out, I can stop, take a moment to breathe and work out these issues in a way that makes sense to me. Playing her has led me to understanding myself a bit better, as well, and that’s truly such a wonderfully unexpected gift from this whole experience.

6) Lastly, a silly one: RC - Getting a crit 6. The last session of this game got real interesting. Saube’s party ended up in the ethereal plane and magic got real fucky there. So, any time any of us tried to cast a spell, we’d roll a d20, not look at the result, and then try to guess what number rolled. The closer to the number, the better the result. A few times, a few people managed to get within like 3 or 4 of their roll, but oh the power I felt when I rolled a 6 (on Saube’s die!) and guessed it correctly! So, not only did the spell (Bless) work, but it worked super well. So instead of getting +1d4 to attack rolls and saving throws, Saube and two other party members got +2d4 to attacks, saving throws and skill checks. So powerful I broke the rules of D&D lmao.

#asks #ask games #floralprintshark #D&D #Flowers #Saube #Sauhety #SICL #Sparks #long post #thanks <3 <3

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sagesparrow394 · 4 years ago

Text

One Night of Normalcy

This is my @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift for @anyarally! I wish you a happy New Year, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Ship(s): Analogical, background Moceit

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, and Virgil is spending the evening around his boyfriend’s house, and meeting Logan’s parents for the first time. All he hopes for is one night of normalcy, and to stay out of yet another of his parents’ fights.

Warnings: This fic contains domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. There is a gay character who is heavily implied to have been forced into a straight relationship.

----------

Virgil took a deep breath, adjusting his flannel shirt in the mirror. Today was the day: Christmas Eve, and he was meeting his boyfriend’s parents.

Virgil knew there was no reason for him to be nervous. When planning for the day, Logan had frequently reassured Virgil that his parents were kind and warm-hearted people, and they truly were according to Remus and Roman. The two twins had worked with Logan on a science project once and, having gone around Logan’s to complete it, knew Logan’s dads well.

Virgil went to his dresser, checking his reflection in the mirror, before reaching for his make up. After putting on foundation, he reached for his black eyeshadow, only to pause. Would black make him seem too angsty and edgy? He didn’t want Logan’s dads to think he was some evil bad boy - what if they thought Logan could do better and convinced him to break up with him? Maybe he should go for his purple eyeshadow… But what if they thought the bright glitter was too much? Maybe he should just not wear anything. But his face looked so bare without it!

He groaned, holding his head in his hands, before reaching out. If he grabbed the black eyeshadow, he'd use black, if he grabbed the purple eyeshadow, he’d use purple, and if he missed both, he wouldn’t wear any.

He felt something in his hand and opened his eyes. Purple it was.

When he finished applying it, he pulled on his hoodie, before heading to the door of his room. He gently pressed his ear to the door.

Things were quiet. Goo-

SLAM!

Never mind. He stood corrected. He stayed listening, trying to work out where in the house his parents were going as he heard their voices yelling.

“I can’t believe you!”

“It was nothing-”

“Nothing?! NOTHING?! Thomas, I told you one thing, one rule! And you fucking broke it!”

“Nico and I are just friends, we ran into each other in the food court, we were just talking. I don’t see what’s-”

“Just friends?! That’s not what it looked like! And by talking, I know you mean flirting, you fucking slut!”

Virgil winced as he heard the sound of a sharp slap. Maybe he shouldn’t leave. It would be safer to keep his door shut and not risk passing his parents. He’d text Logan, telling him plans were called off and apologising. Then, he’d curl up in bed and hope his dad was okay, and that his mom wouldn’t come and take his wrath out on him instead.

And that’s when there was a vibration in his pocket from his phone.

Logan: Dad wants to know what your favourite cookies are - I’m assuming he’s planning on baking some. I’m warning you in advance, he is very excited about tonight

And then another message came through.

Logan: Though I must admit, I am too. 💙

Virgil couldn’t help but smile a little. Okay, he’d risk it. He’d have to be quiet, but he’d sneak out and would make sure he got to Logan’s right on time.

He responded to the message and then pocketed his phone, before slowly pushing his door open. He tiptoed down the hall and then down the stairs, making sure to avoid all of the squeaky floorboards and steps. Then he tiptoed towards the front door. As he went, he passed the kitchen and couldn’t help but peek through the doorway. His mom was still screaming as his dad, who was nursing a red bruise on his face. He held his breath, quietly tiptoeing past, and heading to the front door. He opened it as quietly as possible, stepping outside, before closing it equally silently. He paused for a moment, and then quickly hurried off.

Knock knock!

Logan looked up from his book at the noise, before hurriedly placing his bookmark in and putting the book on his bedside table. He got up from his bed, before running downstairs, where he caught his dad just about to open the door. “Dad, wait!”

Patton turned around. “What is it, kiddo?”

“I… It’s just… I don’t want you to come on too strongly. No offence, Dad, but you are… a lot. And I don’t want Virgil to feel overwhelmed straight away. So, maybe just head back to the kitchen for now, and I’ll bring Virgil in to meet you and Pa, okay?”

“Okay, okay, kiddo. But don’t leave me waiting too long,” Patton said as he began heading back to the kitchen. “You know how excited I’ve been to meet him!”

“I know, Dad.” Logan nodded. He turned back to the door when Patton was gone, opening it. “Hey, Verge.”

“Hi, Lo… I’m not too late, am I?”

Logan chuckled. “You’re early, actually.” He stood up on his tiptoes, pecking his lips to Virgil’s. “Come on, you can dump your stuff in my room, and then I’ll introduce you to my dads.” He took Virgil’s arm and gently pulled him along, heading upstairs.

When they stepped into Logan’s room, Virgil found it to be almost exactly how he’d imagined Logan’s room to be. There were glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, arranged to form constellations. He had a bookshelf against one wall that was crammed with books - too many to fit properly on there. He had a desk, his laptop resting on it along with a bunch of papers strewn around and quite a few empty jam jars. A telescope was set up by his window. The sheets of his bed had a pattern of planets and stars.

Logan sat down on his bed. “You can put your bag down anywhere. By the way, if you want to wait a bit to meet my parents, I don’t mind. You can take as long as you need.”

Virgil smiled, dropping his backpack on the floor after getting something out. “Thanks. I think I wanna just spend some time with you for a bit.” He sat down beside Logan, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy before pulling him onto his lap. “Hey, Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.” Virgil handed a present he had gotten out of his bag to Logan.

Logan smiled, before reaching over to his bedside. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a wrapped gift as well. “Merry Christmas to you too.” He handed it to Virgil. “You go first.”

Virgil pulled open the wrapping, chuckling as he saw what was inside. “Oh my gosh, I love it…” It was a plush spider with cute little fangs, and purple patches that matched his hoodie all over it.

“I made it myself. Well, with some help from Roman and Remus as well,” Logan explained. “They’re much better at arts and crafts than I am. Though Remus did almost stab himself in the finger with the sewing machine…”

Virgil pecked a kiss to his cheek. “It’s perfect. Thanks, L. Now go on, open yours. I’m sorry if it isn’t as cool as what you got me…”

Logan rolled his eyes, tearing the paper. “Virgil, I’m sure, whatever it is, it’ll be perfect.” He pulled the last of the paper away, eyes lighting up as he held up a soft blue turtleneck sweater. “I love it! Thank you so much, Verge.” He pulled the sweater on. “How does it look?”

“Perfect.” Virgil hugged Logan close, smiling. “So soft… I love how you act so stoic and smart in front of everyone, but you turn into a cute little soft teddy bear when it’s just the two of us.”

Logan’s face burned a little. “Oh, hush…”

Virgil pressed a small kiss to his neck. “Love you.”

“... I love you too.”

They stayed there together, cuddled close. Virgil’s hand slipped under Logan’s sweater at one point, tracing the stretch marks on the other’s stomach, and Logan nuzzled gently into him in response. Unfortunately, however, the moment was ruined by Virgil’s phone blaring his ringtone - I’m Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance. Virgil pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What is it?” Logan asked.

“My dad…” Virgil frowned at his phone. He didn’t want to get involved if his parents were still arguing… His mom might be even angrier if she’d found out he’d sneakily left. He declined the call. “It’s probably nothing.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You just hung up? My dad would freak out if I declined a call from him. He’d get scared I’d been kidnapped or something.”

Virgil shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, I don’t want our time together interrupted.”

Logan flushed. “Sap.”

“You love it…” Virgil grinned, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek lightly, causing Logan to gently shove his arm.

“Me being chubby does not entitle you to be able to do that kind of stuff.”

“Hm… I think you’ll find that’s exactly what it means.”

Before Logan could react, Virgil’s hands slipped back under his shirt, pinching his love handles. Logan let out a small squeal, erupting into giggles. “Virgil!! Stop!”

Virgil grinned. “Ticklish, huh?” He continued tickling Logan’s sides, the other quickly going red in the face as he collapsed back on his bed.

“Virgil! Stop!”

“But your giggle’s so cute… I rarely get to hear it. Let me have this? Please?”

Logan frowned. “‘M not cute…”

“Sure you’re not.” Virgil leaned over and pecked his lips. “Definitely not the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as his face burned even redder. “Is your goal for today just to fluster me as much as you can?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t until you said that. Now, maybe it is.” He ran a hand through Logan’s hair.

“You have to be careful, Virge. If you make me look all flustered and unruly, my dads will get the wrong idea when we go down and meet them.”

“... Good point.”

Logan chuckled as Virgil leant back, and he sat up. “So, do you want to go down and see them now? My dad will probably combust if I have to keep him waiting much longer.”

“... Sure.” Virgil paused. “You won’t leave me alone with them at any point, right? Nothing against your dads, but I just-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Good…”

Virgil stood up, before offering Logan his hands, pulling him to his feet. The two left the room, starting to head to the kitchen.

“By the way, you know how your dad asked what cookies are my favourite?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t trust me when I told him chocolate chip, and insisted I ask you to be sure and show him your response.”

“Well, you might be happy he didn’t trust you.” Virgil smiled. “I lied and said my favourite was Crofters cookies, since I know you love them. Surprise.”

Logan smiled back. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

The two arrived at the kitchen. Logan took Virgil’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly as he led him inside.

And there Logan’s parents were. One of them was standing at the kitchen counter, humming to himself happily as he made the cookies. He had ginger hair, freckles across his face, and was wearing a light blue polo shirt, khakis, round glasses, and had a grey cardigan tied over his shoulders. Sitting at the table, Logan’s other father was drinking a cup of tea while reading a book about Immanuel Kant and his work in philosophy. He was wearing a yellow button-up t-shirt and black pants.

“Dad, Pa? This is Virgil. Virgil, meet my Dad, Patton, and my Pa, Janus.”

“Hi…” Virgil awkwardly waved.

Janus gave him a gentle smile, nodding in welcome. “Hello, Virgil. I like the eyeshadow.”

Meanwhile, Patton eagerly turned to face Virgil. “Hey, kiddo! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Lo’s told us so much about you!”

“He has…?” Oh god, what kind of things has he said? What if Logan made him out to be really bad? What if he was about to be kicked out or, even worse, hurt-

No, Virgil, calm down. This is Logan, your boyfriend who loves you. He wouldn’t make you look bad. Not to mention, Patton looks excited to meet you, so it’s unlikely Logan has said anything that would make them hate you.

“Yep! He’s always talking about fun things you’ve done together, and things he loves about you. It’s so nice for him to have someone - he’s been a lot less closed off since you two started dating.”

“Dad…” Logan muttered, face burning red.

“Oh, it’s okay, you know I’m just teasing you. Anyway, you two came down just in time! The cookies are about to go in the oven and I was thinking, while they cook, we could play some board games. Just some nice family Christmas Eve fun!”

“Family?” Virgil could help but repeat that in disbelief.

“Yeah, kiddo. You’re part of the family now. So, any games you like in particular? We have Clue, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, Sorry, The Chameleon, Spyfall… and quite a few others! We always get at least one new one each Christmas, so we’ve gathered quite the collection.”

“I’ll show Virgil the shelf of games and we’ll pick one out together.” Logan took Virgil’s hand, before leading him from the room. He led him into the living room and to a bookshelf in there. He opened cupboards at the bottom, revealing board games stacked upon the shelves inside. “Take your pick. Personally, my favourites are Clue and any trivia games.”

“I, um… I don’t really know board games too well.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

Virgil shook his head. “My family aren’t exactly the, uh, sit and play and have family time kinda people… I only really know the games that the YouTubers I watch play. But I have a feeling your dads aren’t really the types to play Cards Against Humanity.”

Logan chuckled a little. “No, they are not. Well, maybe Pa would, but Dad, definitely not. But are there any games here you recognise from YouTube that you would like to play?”

“Um, I’ve seen people play Clue, the Chameleon and Spyfall, and they looked cool.”

Logan nodded, picking up the three games. As he did, Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, you really, like, see me as part of the family? I mean, your parents barely know me…”

“Of course.” Logan stood up straight, the games in his arms. He paused. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”

“No! No, the opposite actually… It’s nice.”

Logan smiled. He gently pressed a kiss to Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s head back to the kitchen. Then we can set up the games, and I can wipe the floor with you all and win them all.”

Virgil smirked. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that, L. I’ve watched enough videos to know the strategies. You’re going down!”

“We’ll see about that.” Logan grinned, heading back to the kitchen. Virgil was about to follow when his phone rang yet again. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning at his mom’s name. “Sorry, Mom, I’m having a fun night. I’m not getting into a fight with you.” He declined the call, before putting his phone on silent. Then, he headed to the kitchen.

Playing board games with Logan, Janus and Patton was so much fun! Virgil had honestly never felt so comfortable around a group of people.

They played the Chameleon first. Janus had little to no competition, winning every single time he was the Chameleon, no one suspecting him at all.

“How are you so good at this?” Virgil had asked.

“I’m a lawyer,” was Janus’ only response.

Then it was Clue. Logan had been the winner of this one. He had gone full Sherlock mode, using deductive reasoning to slowly whittle down the options until he had the murder, the weapon and the place. All three games of Clue they played, he had won.

“You’re so good at this,” Virgil had sighed, staring at him admiringly.

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Logan had replied, before pecking a kiss to his cheek.

Then, finally, they played Spyfall. Somehow, he didn’t know how, Virgil was the winner of this game. He expected to be a terrible spy due to his very clear nervous fidgeting. However, he was able to blend in pretty well - mostly due to the fact he was equally fidgety when he wasn’t the spy, fearing that his answers weren’t as convincing as they should be. Therefore, no one could tell the difference in his body language between games.

The whole evening had just been so fun. Virgil didn’t want it to end. He got to spend time with the adorable and smart love of his life, and experience what it was like to have parents who actually loved each other through Janus and Patton. The two of them had such a pure, loving relationship with the quick hugs and kisses they shared as they passed each other.

As they’d been playing, the cookies were baked and then left to cool. Once the games were done, Patton placed the cookies on a plate and put them on the table.

“Dig in, kiddos!”

Logan didn’t hesitate to take one, and Virgil did the same just after. He took a bite and his eyes widened. “Whoa, these are really good.”

“Aw, thanks, kiddo! My very own recipe. Logan asked me to try making cookies with Crofters, and he was my taste tester as I tried different recipes.”

Virgil chuckled. “I’m not surprised with his sweet tooth.” He smiled down at Logan, who flushed a little.

And then Virgil felt his phone vibrate in his pocket yet again. It had done so a couple of times while they were playing, but now Virgil was getting sick of it. Why were his parents so desperate to drag him, their teenage son, into their bullshit?! What was he supposed to do about it?!

He pulled his phone from his pocket, going to turn it off. Only to pause. It wasn’t his dad’s number, or his mom’s. It was an unknown number. Usually, he declined unknown numbers. Talking to people he knew on the phone was scary enough. Strangers? No way in hell. But… something about this felt different. Weird.

He gave Logan, Patton and Janus a look that said “excuse me for a moment”, before standing up. He pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s head, before heading out to the hallway.

Once he was gone, Logan turned to his parents. “So… what do you think?”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so happy for you!” Patton smiled. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

Janus nodded. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter what us two think of him. The two of you seem very happy, and you clearly love each other very much. And that’s all that matters.”

Logan smiled. He got to his feet, walking around the table, before hugging both Patton and Janus close. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us, Lo.” Janus reassured as the two fathers hugged their son in return.

As they were hugging, Virgil came back in. He was as pale as a sheet.

“Verge?” Logan pulled away from his fathers, frowning. He went up to his boyfriend, who was trembling in the doorway. “Are you alright?”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat, looking between the three faces staring at him, concerned.

“My dad’s in the hospital and my mom’s been arrested.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #c!thomas #remus sanders #roman sanders #tw abuse #tw domestic abuse #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #ash's fics #sanderssidesgiftxchange

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sapphosvioletts · 4 years ago

Note

Awwww my god I can’t- your literally like one of the nicest and understanding people I’ve ever met, accept I haven’t actually met you we just talk on tumblr with me using a butterfly emoji to represent myself-

Me thinks I should stop over analysing everything and just be happy for one—

But that aside, that sounds really fun actually!! My great grandad used to run a show that sold sewing machines, fabric and the stringy wool stuff and it was always really nice to go!! The place just radiated calm and so often when I was young me and my cousin would go over for a day, because our great grandad ((despite his old age, bless his soul)) was always really sweet and would always try to get involved in activities and would take us down into the basement and then get worried cause he thought he lost us 😂

That being sad, I still don’t really understand how shops like that work in a sense? Like do you have to know what fabrics you need in advance or do you just browse until you find something that’s right and works?

- 🦋

awhhhhh omg you're so kind!! i'm really glad you think so 🥺 you're so sweet too shsjsks

and omg that sound so fun!! i've never been to anything like that before and it sounds soooo coooool oh my goddd i would love that! and he sounds really sweet🥺

and you don't have to know in advance! the one i usually go to is like a kind of craft store but mostly is known for their fabric, so it's pretty big. it does help to know what you want in advance because there's so many options that if you don't know it's easy to get lost or you end up choosing wayyy too many because you want all of them lol i usually go with a general idea of what i want, like i know for the stuffed animals i'll probably want some minky fabric (faux fur of course, not real mink from the animal) or maybe a type of plush felt fabric. it helps to know what colors too, i still need to figure that out actually before going lmao but for more specific things like clothes usually i'll know exactly what i want in what patterns and colors.

but for the most part if it's not a specific project, like with stuffed animals where i'll need a lot of different colors and fabrics, it's more of a just figure it out when you get there as long as you have a general idea of what you need. there's tonssss of rows of fabric so i'll usually look for the color first and then whichever one feels the best i'll choose, like is it too stretchy or not stretchy enough, how thick is it, and most important for my autistic ass, does it feel nice to touch lmaooo

they usually come wrapped around these cardboard square holders and each one has around 40-100 yards of fabric on it (i think you guys use meters, so it should be around 36-91 meters). so you choose which one you want and then once you have all of them picked out, there's an area where people will cut the fabric for you. i usually get around 1-2 yards of each fabric and they measure it and cut it for you, and then they put the rolls back on the shelves later. then they give you a receipt so when you pay up front at the cashier they know how much fabric you have and can pay for the right amount

they also have scrap fabrics that they sell for super cheap, there's a couple bins that just have random fabrics like the ends of fabrics that don't measure up long enough, or returns, or i think some are also from extra from their sewing classes they have, and i find a lotttt of good stuff in there and it's super cheap! and a lot of them are pretty long too like half a yard to sometimes even 4 yards

i hope that explained it well 😅

#violet replies #🦋 anon

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

Text

eye on the prize

summary: commission for astrid, who asked for chris evans x reader interview fluff.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3,006

trigger warnings: RPF, slow burn, heavy flirtation, idiots in love, nondescript mentions of misogyny in the media as a business, a likely poorly reconstructed timeline (time fake and reality is a construct!)

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The hotel bed is large, big enough for four of you. The blankets are thick and the soft, the pillows a perfect balance of structured but plush. Sunbeams stream onto the mused sheets, warming your face. It’s nice, but only as nice as the calm before a major tropical storm can be. As your phone alarm blares next to you, you start to wonder if being caught in a category five hurricane would be better than press junkets.

A whole day talking to people about a movie you made months ago that you know jack shit about. Sometimes you have nightmares about giving a book report on a novel you’ve never even opened (you’re how old? And high school is still haunting you? Jesus, you need to go back to therapy) that cause you to break out in a cold sweat and kick all the covers from your bed and buy a bunch of stuff online to distract yourself from your racing heart and shaking hands.

Still, those are never as bad as interviewers asking about character arcs and plotlines and your relationship with actors you’ve barely (if ever) met and whatever else a normal interviewer would ask a normal interviewee when all you know is your character, the fact that she does shit with magic, and she’s Dr. Strange’s daughter. Anything other than that is anyone’s guess.

Your stylist and makeup artists are the ones to eventually drag you out of bed and plop you into hair and makeup after squeezing you into an incredibly tight pair of jeans and a non-controversial sweater. The forty-five minutes are a complete blur, but then again, nothing feels real until Sebastian hands you a large coffee in a travel cup that bares no logo or other kind of copywritten signifier – your knight in shining…cardboard? What are travel coffee cups even made of? Paper? Can paper even “shine?”

You’re nearly purring when the taste of caramel macchiato burns your tongue. “Ah. Thanks, Seb. I appreciate it.”

Sebastian shrugs, sipping at his own drink masquerading as generic brand. “No problem. I didn’t want you to bite an interviewer’s head off this morning. Or worse, mine.”

You play-hit him in the face and laugh with him, making small talk and trying to kill the time before the mind-numbingly long day really begins. You’re halfway through a rant about the woes of make up artists trying to put you in a full face of makeup to a man who barely has to put on concealer, the fucking asshat, when Chris makes an appearance.

“Hey, guys,” he’s is also drinking coffee from the unmarked travel cups. He looks you up and down before taking another sip. “You look really nice today.”

You blush, smoothing out your sweater – one of the color-blocked ones that sits at the intersection of casual, feminine, and not-intimidating. “Thanks, you too.”

Sebastian’s about to say something snarky when someone wearing a headset calls upon the three of you.

“Let’s get going, people!” she calls, ushering you into three barely-comfortable seats. You’re between Chris and Sebastian, the sheer mass of them making you feel approximately three feet tall. It doesn’t take much to forget how large they both are – even if Sebastian doesn’t weight two hundred pounds anymore and Chris was able to tone down his exercise regime since finishing Infinity War, you still feel like you’re sitting at the big-kid table for the first time.

The first interviewer is from some YouTube channel you only know because your fourteen-year-old niece gushes about them every family dinner. The woman who sits in front of you is young, cute. Dresses trendy, dark eye makeup and red lips.

She’s nice, too, along with being knowledgeable about the projects of each of you. She banters with Sebastian about his seven million movies before turning to you.

The interviewer turns to you. “And you! You’re nominated for some pretty major awards!”

You smile wide, unable to help yourself. “Yeah, best actress and best original score.”

“That’s so cool,” Chris mumbles. You blush and pretend not to hear him as you speak again.

“It’s just super crazy,” you tell the interviewer. “Not even gonna lie. When I was younger, I would look at stars who like, cried when they found out they were nominated. Not even winning, just their name shows up on the ballot. But now I’m like, it’s me, two-time Grammy nominee! I was nominated for a Grammy, twice!”

Sebastian chimes in, laughing. “When we were at bunch together, I got there early and the caterer showed up and they were like, we’re here for the two-time Grammy nominee?”

“You had a brunch?” The interviewer asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I bunch of the Avengers cast and the cast from my last movie were in my hometown, which is super rare, so I hosted this giant brunch-”

“As one does,” Sebastian chimes in with a crooked smile.

You nearly hit him. “Yes! As I do! I wanted to see all my friends, whom I love, so I host a brunch. Sue me! Anyway…I hosted this brunch and invited a bunch of people over. Just a bunch of my favorite food from my favorite restaurants. Everyone I’d wanted to see for such a long time was there. It was amazing.”

The interviewer paints a faux frown across her face, looking at the man on your right. “Chris, you look very sad.”

“I didn’t get invited to the brunch,” Chris frowns. Unlike the woman in front of you, he looks genuinely sad. A twinge of pain bounces in your ribcage, and you rub his cardigan-clad back

“You were out doing Broadway shit!” you laugh. “You were halfway across the country!”

Chris continues to frown, staring at the printed-out pictures from the social medias of various guests. A few are from yours – you in a flowy sundress with your head thrown back laughing, a shot of you and a few of your friends from college drinking alcohol in the bright mid-afternoon sun. One you recognize from Sebastian’s Instagram, another from Hemsworth’s. A few from Twitter of a few of your non-movie-star friends. You look so happy in all of them, so beautiful in each shot. “I still wanted to be invited.”

You just roll your eyes. “Okay, call me when you’re in my region of the country and I’ll host a brunch,” You touch your forefinger to his nose. Chris blushes, profusely, in his cheeks and his ears. “just for you and me.”

You don’t hear much after that, too focused on Chris’ eyes meeting yours and his small smile. You’re taken aback by how sweet, tender he looks, and before you know it the interviewer is saying goodbye and the next one is taking her place.

It’s a man this time, a little older than the last one with artsy facial hair and a button hip. He mostly pays attention to the two men and soon your brain goes on battery-saver and you’re lost in your own thoughts.

Are hipsters still a thing? Is that what this guy is trying to be? Do hipsters even like Marvel? Is that too “mainstream for them?”

Eventually he asks a question about you, your recent entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, your music, your composing. You’d be happy to talk about your passions, of course you are, but the first genuine question of the interview is positing towards…not you. You’re about to tune everything out again, but then Chris speaks and you snap back to attention.

“It’s always interesting to meet people who bring something new to the art form, ya know? A huge part of acting is learning and evolving and all that, especially from other actors,” Chris avoids your gaze, and the gaze of everyone else, as he speaks. “If you stop learning, if you stop growing, what’s the point? Why would I do this job if I didn’t think it could change me for the better?”

There’s a moment of thick silence, the heavy weight of Chris’ introspective answer settling over the people in the room. It’s one of the things you lo-

It’s one of the things you enjoy most about Chris, how dedicated he is to acting as more than a job. It’s amazing, truly, how much he adores what he does. You could spend the rest of time with him, a plate of cheese, and a bottle of wine; listening to him talk about how he thinks of acting as an art, how that art can impact people and society, how actors have a responsibility to that art (that is, of course, after you mock him endlessly for Not Another Teen Movie and Fantastic Four).

You feel like a high schooler again, doodling your first and his last name in hearts in your math notebook with your favorite pink glitter pen. You’re an adult, why are you blushing red as a raspberry every time he says something smarter than a fast food order?!

The rest of the day goes down in a blur, the only time you start to care again when someone on the production staff calls for dinner (yeah, no lunch on press junket day. You can ask for a light snack, but you learned the hard way a full meal is “bad for your figure” and “makes you likely to burp on camera” and a bunch of other stuff you care very little about).

All three of you groan in happiness when you enter the room designated as craft, the thick smell of barbeque hitting you like a baseball bat. But a good baseball bat, though, like…one you ask to be hit with. Honestly, you have no idea what you’re talking about because you’re so hungry.

When you finally manage to scavenge food, Sebastian’s right behind you as you stare at a very delicious looking tray of pulled pork. Your plate is already full, but what if they take the food away? And then what if you get hungry later?

“You know he’s flirting with you, right?” he whispers as you watch the man in question scroll through Twitter on his phone. Chris is eating about the same thing you are, plus celery. You almost make a quip about it being “nature’s floss,” but then you realize that would be dumb because Sebastian definitely wouldn’t find it as funny as Chris would.

You shrug, picking up a French fry from your plate. “Yeah, but you were, too.”

He scoffs into his second Americano of the morning. “Nah. Not like that. He likes you! He like likes you!”

“He does not-“

“And you like-like him!” He boops you on the nose and pinches your cheek like some sort of grandmother who hadn’t seen her fifteen-year-old son since he was five. “My little baby has a cruuuush!” he coos while making small kissy noises.

You’re about to bite back about how you’re not that much younger than him, but then the sound guy on the other side of the meat tray glares at the both of you. Looks like, while Chris couldn’t hear your bickering from the across the room, this dude definitely could – and he’s not very happy about it.

“Sorry,” you both mumble, shrinking away from the persecuting techie and his judgmental eyes.

Sebastian only talks again when you find an unpopulated corner, devoid of prying eyes and anyone who could be annoyed with the two of you gossiping like high schoolers.

“You know I’m not wrong, right?” he says around a bite of crisp apple. What is up with this guy and fruit? Sure, he’s on a restrictive diet for a role to keep him from bulking up (something at the intersect of keto and vegetarian but able to eat lean meats) but he’s can’t eat like, the vegan stuff? Why must he always eat like rabbit in your presence? “Have you not seen what he says on Twitter?”

You scoff. “No, because I don’t have a Twitter. And neither do you!” You narrow your eyes accusingly. “How do you know what he posts?” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I see screenshots on Instagram, first of all. Second, he could be complimenting your music on the inside of a cave. It’s about the principle.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you hiss. “Also, I’m done arguing with you about this. Let me find a cheeseburger and eat in peace. Is that too much a woman to ask, Sebastian!?”

He just laughs you off and lets you eat in peace, eventually getting his own food. Though, you suppose the meal was specially timed, because then Chris Evans is sitting next to you.

He’s about to say something, too, and you’re about to listen, but then you get called for an individual interview for a women’s health magazine and you have to leave him and you plate of food and fuck…you hate this job. A lot.

The interview is boring, once again, and the next time you have another coherent thought you’re taking the elevator back up to your hotel room and waving off your manager, who is telling you to be downstairs by seven tomorrow to catch your flight back home.

You’re just kicking off your heels when you hear a faint knock at the door. When you look through the peephole, you see a very sad-looking Christopher Evans. With his small frown and hunched shoulders, he looks like a kicked puppy; and even though all you want to do is take your bra off, you let him in.

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking as if he was a child preparing to be scolded.

“I lost my hotel key. And my backup got demagnetized.”

You bite back a laugh, trying to seem sympathetic. “Do you want to chill in here until security brings you another one?”

Chris nods solemnly as he steps through the threshold. “Thanks.”

Neither of you speak for a while, instead Chris looks around your quite messy (or “homey,” as you call it when you FaceTime your best friend and she scoffs at how easy you can make a room look like a hurricane tore through it) room and you…find an outfit for tomorrow?

You’re the first one to speak, only breaking the quiet after changing into fuzzy socks and sneakily taking off your lacey bra (and tucking it under the covers of the bed for you put away later).

“Well, that was excruciating,” you mumble. All you want to do is change into your biggest, most comfortable hoodie and your cotton panties and order room service and ignore humanity until you leave for a flight the next morning, but a man you’ve had a crush on since he appeared as Johnny Storm is right in front of you and after that talk with Sebastian your world is kind of shaken to its core and should you make a move? Is he the kind of guy to not like that? Would you want to be with a guy that doesn’t like that? What if he-

“Always are, I guess.” Chris interrupts your train of thought, saving it from going off the rails. When you at him he looks just as, if not more than, exhausted than you are. “That’s one of the things that you forget, I think. How hard it is to talk about these movies.”

You snort. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Chris smile a little wider as you laugh. “Yeah. Other movies I can talk about like, characters and plots and shit. With these I live in constant fear I’m gonna pull a fucking Ruffalo and get my ass fired from the best paying gig I’ve ever had.”

Chris laughs with you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Word.”

An awkward silence fills the room and you find something, anything to do to avoid his heavy gaze under those thick eyelashes and his thick beard that you just want to run your fingers through or his even softer hair that you want to mess up while you-

“Do you want to get dinner together sometime?” you blurt. You’re ready to take back the words as soon as you say them, wanting to backtrack or say “just friends” or “ha-ha, just kidding!” or something else that absolves you of non-platonic commitment.

By a long stretch of luck that you can’t even begin to thanks a long number of deities for, Chris doesn’t laugh at you or turn you down or even walk out of the room. He meets your gaze with excitement in his eyes and a smile wider than your home state. “I’d love to,” is all he says. It’s all either of you get to say before his phone rings loudly, and the name of the head of security flashes on his screen. He sighs loudly, apologizing as he takes it. Somehow, you feel more awkward as he turns away and answers the call. You fidget with your hands, with a loose thread on the sweater you’ve come to hate more than anything else in the world, with your phone. Nothing makes it easier to face Chris again once he hangs up.

“That was…,” he laughs lightly. Not laughing at you, maybe at life or how weird his life is, but never at you. “You know. They fixed my key and want to give it to me in person.”

You swallow and nod. “Yeah, understandable. I’ll, uh,” you clear your throat. “I’ll see you…”

Chris finishes for you. “How about we find a good restaurant near here after I’m confirmed to actually be me by the private security detail our employers hired to make sure no one kills us? We can have that second dinner I’ve heard you always eat late at night.”

Holy shit…he remembered that time you vaguely mentioned how much you enjoy staying up late and eating lots of food. It makes you blush as you respond.

“Yeah that sounds,” you sigh happily, smile just as big as his is. “That sounds great.”

#chris evans x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff #chris evans imagine

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Amaryllis: The Future || JHS

For the @bangtanscenery - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Everything always comes full circle. A soul falls into the ether, hoping to be reborn in the next cycle. If a desire is strong enough, it can manifest across space and time. Two souls reunite and are given a second chance, hoping that their love will be rekindled even stronger than it was before.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: soulmate!au | reincarnation!au | angst | romance | drama

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Female OC (Erica Bronwyn/Bayaraa Ehri)

Warnings: Mild language, angst, identity crisis, fluff, mentions of religion and mental health

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 9.0K

AN: Y'all. I just can't with this story. Part of me is glad it's over. Part of me is upset I didn't expound on this more. But they say that every writer should know when to let a story finish. So with this second part, this tragic story now has a happy ending. Thank you everyone who was patient with me and adored my work. It means so much to me.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Present Day Gwacheon – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

Hoseok stared at the paperwork in front of his desk. Every so often, he would blink at it before shifting to the next page. He had so many questions, but the main one sat at the forefront of his mind. He turned another page, this time with photographs showcasing various pieces of art by a specific artist; the artist in question whose portfolio was sent to him earlier that week.

“What do you think?” asked Namjoon.

Lifting his eyes to meet Namjoon’s, Hoseok raised a single brow. “I just have one question.”

He watched as Namjoon leaned back in the plush leather chair. “What?”

“Why me?” Hoseok returned his gaze back to the photos. “Why us?”

He heard Namjoon sigh as he readjusted himself in his seat. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

This pulled at Hoseok’s curiosity. Namjoon was the Archivist and assistant Director to the art gallery they owned while Hoseok served as both the Curator and Director. In all the years they’d been opened, they never came across a situation like this. Their gallery wasn’t a well-known venue for art exhibitions. In fact, it ranged on the small side. Not many people knew about them and they focused on Indie Art and lesser-known artists to be able to give them a chance to be recognized and gain some viewership from the public.

But as Hoseok looked at the works in the photographs by this particular artist, he still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Erica Bronwyn,” he murmured, but loud enough so Namjoon could hear, “a young, up and coming glass and metalworks artist who has gained much popularity in Italy, France, and England. Every gallery that has showcased her work has garnered a lot of success and positive response. Her stylistic focus on ancient Asian culture is a keypoint in all of her artwork, always adding a specific floral motif for each of her collections.”

“Too much?” Namjoon brushed some of his hair out of his eyes.

Hoseok shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I just don’t get it, Namjoon-ah.” Again, he met his friend’s gaze. “Why us? Compared to the other galleries in South Korea, we’re nobodies.”

Namjoon barked with laughter as he raised his brows slightly. “I know, right?”

Unlike his best friend, Hoseok didn’t find this funny in the slightest. As he looked back at the portfolio, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was trying to pull a fast one on him. Had he missed the memo where he signed up to be part of a prank cam show? He wouldn’t put it past Namjoon, but with Winter winding down and yielding into Spring, Hoseok wasn’t in the mood to play any kind of games.

He didn’t know why, but this time of year alwaysleft him feeling especially melancholy.

One of the assistants at the gallery, Jisoo, came into their office with a tray of tea. They thanked her and she quickly excused herself, stating that she was going to do her rounds before closing up. After she left, Hoseok curled his fingers around his chin, his brows furrowed in thought. He just didn’t understand any of it.

“And no other galleries made any offers?” He reached for his teacup. “We don’t have much in terms of money. I mean, we are able to comfortably get by but I would think other curators would be dying to get their claws into any exhibition she would bring to the table.”

Namjoon swallowed a bit of tea while humming. “Oh no,” he said, setting the cup down on the saucer, “there were offers. Really nice ones, in fact. I talked to a few of the other archivists and directors from the more well-known ones in Seoul. Her agent turned them all down on her behalf.”

“But why, is what I’m getting at.” He could hear the exasperation in his own voice. “Why us, Namjoon? I don’t get it.”

“Y’know, Hoseok-ah, I don’t know.” Namjoon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small business card. “But her agent did say that if you had any questions to contact Miss Bronwyn directly.” Hoseok took the card from Namjoon and studied the labeling on it which had a copy of her elegant signature on it. “Her cell number is on the back.”

Hoseok stared at the number on the back. He wasn’t sure why there was a sense of reticence swelling inside of his chest as he stared at the handwritten phone number. It looked like every other scribble in a long list of scribbles he’d looked at. But as his eyes lifted to peer back at Erica’s portfolio, an ache sat in the center of his lungs and made it difficult to breathe. His vision blurred momentarily and it wasn’t until he felt Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder that he realized what happened.

He was crying.

Reincarnation was a strange subject matter. Many religions spoke of the phenomenon differently. Not all of them were wrong, but not all of them were right either. If Erica had to pinpoint which faith got it right, it would discount them all. So she simply chose to believe what was the correct one from her interpretation.

In this life, her name was Eric Bronwyn. It was the name that her parents gave her when she was brought into this world. She believed that her name was Erica Bronwyn.

But at the age of seven, a different truth came to light. Suddenly, she was flooded with memories of a life that she didn’t recognize. People spoke to her in a language Erica didn’t understand and the faces of those people were warm and affectionate. Over the years, she studied and tried to piece together the meaning behind all of these occurrences. Studying foreign languages and focusing on the scenes that flashed in her mind’s eye.

At thirteen, Erica realized who the people were.

Her parents. Her sisters. Her family.

And a name. Her old name.

Ehri.

Honing her talent for arts and crafts, Erica began breathing life into the images. She painted portraits of her parents, her sisters, and the close friends that she had in that world; in that life. Erica’s mother asked her where she was painting from; the portraits of the individuals of a completely different ethnic background and culture than her own. Part of her wanted to tell her parents in this life what it meant, but Erica also didn’t want to concern them over the minor details.

Year by year, Erica lived two lives. One was her everyday life in the current time period and the other cycled parallel to the present. Every step she took, she could see both her path and the path of Bayaraa Ehri simultaneously. When Erica walked through a busy city street and concrete sidewalks, she could also see the grassy hills and mountain krags in tandem. When it rained outside at night, Erica also saw a colorful twilight sky free from a torrential downpour.

Every single day and every single moment, Erica and Ehri existed at the same time.

For a while, Erica believed that something was mentally wrong with her. Was she deranged? Did she need medical attention for this? How would she even begin explaining the cycle of reason without sounding ludicrous herself?

On her 22nd birthday, everything came to a head.

Erica just graduated and was starting out in the world. She knew she wanted to be an artist. But she couldn’t determine which medium suited her the most. Skilled in oil painting, sculpting and watercolor, she decided to visit a few art museums and galleries across Europe. While in Italy, she saw a small gallery that happened to be open on that particular day. Upon entering, only one other patron was visiting at the same time she was.

She couldn’t see him from the back and he was staring at a large oil painting of a spider lily. It was the gallery’s main showcase and Erica felt herself drawn to the piece more than the person looking at it. The two of them stood a few feet apart from each other, eyes locked onto the painting; unable to avert their gazes for even a second.

And then the young man finally spoke.

“Have you ever heard of the legend of the Spider Lily?”

A sharp pain struck Erica’s chest at that moment. Clutching at the front of her shirt, she turned to look at him. His face looked so familiar and everything in her mind seemed to rush forward all at once. When he asked if she was alright, a different face overlapped the man’s. Before she realized it, Erica burst into tears as her heart flooded with a turbulent storm of emotions.

The man she remembered was Hoseok. The man she met that day was Benjamin Reinhart.

Benjamin stayed with her for years and he was the first person Erica told her secret to. But he didn’t react the way she feared others would. He was calm and understanding. And then he was determined to help her find the man that her soul remembered.

In another year, Ehri and Erica were truly one and the same person. All of Ehri’s memories were now Erica’s, nestled safely beside the ones she made in her current life cycle. It was a terrifying transition, at least at first. Erica feared that the person she was would be erased by Ehri's own memories. They were powerful, passionate, and something to admire. But Erica went through her own struggles in her life. She didn’t want those memories to be destroyed.

When it became clear that Erica wouldn’t disappear, relief washed over her. She could access Ehri’s memories at will, wanting to know more about her past and the man who encompassed all of Ehri’s heart.

It took Erica three years to find the one called “Hoseok”. Using a good chunk of her money and resources from showcasing her work throughout Europe, Benjamin’s search bore fruit. When he came back with several pictures, she was able to point out the one from Ehri’s memories.

There was a part of her that hesitated, however. Mostly because her physical appearance didn’t match Ehri’s. Couldn’t that have been the case with Hoseok? What if the person in the picture wasn’t the Hoseok from Ehri’s memories?

The problem called for more research. Erica threw herself into studying the various forms of reincarnation and which cases were similar to her own. There weren’t many and while most of them were informative on the person experiencing the soul rebirth, it didn’t speak much on those who may have been reborn but had no memories of their old lives. Many texts referred to it as “drinking from the Spring of Forgetfulness”.

There was a passage, however, that gave Erica some hope. As stated in folklore, anyone who was set for reincarnation and drank from the Spring of Forgetfulness, would retain the form they had in their previous life to make themselves recognizable to those who did not drink from the spring. If Ehri’s memories were inside of Erica, then that meant Ehri hadn’t drank from the Spring of Forgetfulness.

The caveat? Her physical appearance changed.

Everything else would be left to chance.

Cradling the coffee mug between her fingers, Erica could hardly contain her excitement. Elation mixed with anxiety created a stormy cocktail of conflicting emotions within her. Jung Hoseok, curator of one of the smaller art galleries in the Gwacheon area, finally agreed to meet with her. She honestly wondered if he would bother giving her the time of day, even with her popularity in Europe with her works. Any art director would be suspicious since her agent made it clear that she would not want her pieces showcased anywhere in South Korea. If he didn’t accept her offer, then she wouldn’t be displaying her work in any art gallery in the country.

Her PR agents were curious why she was so hellbent on making sure her pieces were showcased at Hoseok’s gallery. Erica didn’t have a definitive answer. Just that it had to be his. The reasoning wasn’t as important as the need for them to be placed there. Her agent, Benjamin, didn’t question her further. He knew how eccentric Erica could be and as a woman of color in the metal works medium of art, it was a constant uphill battle for her. Pressing her on minor details would be pointless.

Besides, who would take her reasons seriously?

It wasn’t like she could tell just anyone that she wanted to see the man who was her soulmate.

When the small bell chimed as the door opened, Erica felt her heart slam into her chest. As she looked up, she could see Hoseok slowly enter the cafè. She held her hand up to him, waving to get his attention, and he spotted her fairly quickly. He smiled back, waving and quickly crossed the small space to reach her.

“Hi,” she said while standing, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Hoseok reached out to grasp her hand, shaking it politely. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

Erica smirked, shaking her head as they sat down. “Not at all. I wasn’t sure if you would accept my offer in the first place.”

A waitress came by, offered Hoseok a glass of water, and then he placed his order: an iced Americano. He met Erica’s gaze as he brushed some of his fringe from his brows. “Well, you didn’t make it easy for me.”

“What do you mean?” Erica canted her head slightly. “Was I asking for too much?”

“I wouldn’t call it asking for too much as I would asking for not much at all.”

She was genuinely confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand…”

For a moment, neither of them said another word. The waitress brought out Hoseok’s drink and he took a generous sip before clearing his throat. Again, he lifted his gaze to meet hers and there was a heavy ache that seemed to hollow out the lower portion of her stomach. Ehri’s feelings were on the brink of overwhelming her and Erica had to clench her trousers to keep herself from spiraling into an emotional outburst.

“It’s been bugging me. You’re such a well-known, up and coming artist. Why are you so adamant about showcasing your work at my galleria?”

Erica bit back a sigh of relief, feeling the need for an outburst starting to melt away. “You really take the time to focus on lesser-known works of art, as well as artists. And you take pride in making sure that the best representation is given to those artists.” She pressed her fingers along the sides of her cup. “Anyone can see how much you care. It isn’t about making a profit for you.”

It was only a half truth. Erica couldn’t bring herself to dump everything that slowly filled up inside of her over the years. Not only was it not fair, it was illogical. No one wanted baggage dumped unnecessarily into their laps unexpectedly.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she watched as Hoseok seemed to openly gauge her response, as well as her reactions. He took another sip of his coffee and Erica fidgeted with her nails along the surface of her coffee mug. The sound of ice clinking together kept her tethered as she waited for him to say something; anything.

“Alright,” he said finally, reaching across the table to offer his hand, “then I guess we’re partners for the time being.”

Unable to mask her joy, Erica grasped his hand with both of hers and shook it. She flashed an open-mouthed smile when she saw the surprise on Hoseok’s face. It quickly melted into amusement, but Erica didn’t mind if he thought she was silly. This was just the first step. A first of many.

After they finished shaking hands, Hoseok pulled out his phone. “I’ll have the assistant director forward the paperwork to your agent.” She waited for him to send the message and then he politely set his phone on the table. “So, can you tell me what the theme of your showcase will be this time?”

This was the moment that would help determine the way the course of events would unfold. This very moment. Erica knew it and so did Ehri. She had to choose her words wisely. She had to make this count for all that she could hope for.

She lifted her cup to her lips, took a generous sip of coffee, and set the cup back down on the saucer. Her eyes lingered on Hoseok’s for a few more seconds before speaking, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Have you ever heard of the legend of the Spider Lily?”

Lycoris radiata.

Bulg-eun Geomi Baeghab.

Manjusaka.

Higanbana.

Amaryllis.

They were all names referencing the red spider lily.

Hoseok found it a little strange that Erica wanted to showcase an Autumn Equinox flower in the middle of Spring. Even stranger, this was a flower that often was used to symbolize death. When he thought back to her portfolio, none of her pieces were quite as somber in tone as the red spider lily. In fact, in the language of flowers, Erica seemed to use positive terms in each of her collections. Nothing as melancholy or tragic as the spider lily.

When he thought back to the conversation he had with her a week ago, Hoseok couldn’t quite shake the feeling of nostalgia that blanketed over him. She spoke of the spider lily’s legend in a way that almost made one think she believed such a tale. He’d heard the story a long time ago - a story his great grandmother once imparted to him. But it was just a story about star-crossed lovers. There was nothing exciting or happy about it, so he quickly pushed it from his mind.

Hearing Erica’s version, however, left him feeling unsettled. Was it the sincerity in her voice or was it something else? He wanted to know why his heart felt such a heavy weight of sadness when he thought of her face as she spoke of the flower’s legend.

Her pieces were set to be displayed at the end of May. That would give her just over three weeks to complete her showcase. When he asked why Erica chose to make her art pieces after signing contracts, she said that it was simply a way to push her creativity to the limit. Knowing there was a set deadline prioritized her pacing and helped to generate a more stylistic approach compared to the normal methods.

Erica seemed open, honest, and didn’t appear to have anything to hide. Part of Hoseok thought this trepidation was silly and unwarranted. When he brought up his concerns to Namjoon, he encouraged Hoseok to just talk to her. He didn’t think the solution would be something as simple as that, but he couldn’t refute it until he actually tried it.

So he waited to gain access to the workshop that Erica was currently renting out to put her pieces together. In truth, Hoseok never showcased much in the realm of glass or metal art pieces in his gallery. Most of it was the traditional watercolor, oil painting, or even sculptures of clay or stone. This was a new subject, even for him.

When the metal doors slid open, a rush of heat immediately pressed against his entire body. Hoseok coughed from the suddenness of it, using his forearm to shield the lower half of his face to keep himself from breathing in the heat. Sweat slid down his neck and bubbled along the bridge of his nose. Hoseok’s eyes began to water in response to the stifling heat.

Something cold touched his neck, causing him to jump slightly from shock at the sudden sensation. When he turned, he saw Erica holding out a bottle of water for him. He gave a sheepish smile as he took it from her. She helped herself to a generous swig from her own bottle and he couldn’t help but admire her rugged appearance.

A thick leather work apron was wrapped around her body, a pair of thick gloves stuffed into the large front pocket. Her jeans were worn, stuffed into a pair of combat boots. Erica’s shirt was a black, loose fitted tank top, showcasing the muscle definition in her arms. There were a few scrapes and telltale red marks that indicated she’d suffered a few scorches from the flames she used in her work. He wouldn’t have guessed she had such a physique after having seen her in person for their casual business meeting.

There was a sheen of sweat along her olive skin, giving it a warm glow. Hoseok’s cheeks flushed slightly when he realized she was now looking back at him just as intently.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, averting his gaze, “I didn’t mean to intrude during your work hours.”

Erica waved off his apology. “It’s fine. I was just about to call it a day.” She turned toward the direction of where the heat was coming from. “Douse the furnace, guys!”

Within a few seconds, hissing noises were heard and the heat radiating from one particular area began to dissipate. A few metal shutters were slid closed and lights began to blink off one after another. Only one section was still lit and it was to the far left of the warehouse. Hoseok only managed to blink a few times before he heard Erica laughing beside him.

“Would you like to take a peek?” she asked, gesturing to the cluster of things covered with simple sheets.

“If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” she said, motioning for him to follow her to the far corner.

Erica reached for the switch to one of four standing lamps. One by one, she pulled to turn them all on, then grasped a corner of one of the sheets. With an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, she lifted the sheet up and off to let it flutter to the floor.

What was revealed from beneath had Hoseok’s lips parting in awe. Glistening under the amber lighting were various glass and metal pieces situated on pedestals. All of them contained an element of the red spider lily. There was a glass orb with a spider lily design blown across the surface, coloring the opposite side with the reflection from the light. A traditional looking Asian fan containing glass and metal had the red spider lily emblazoned along the spread. Around the edge of the fan were clusters of glass spider lilies.

There were easily twelve pieces already completed. Each a different shape, style, or ornament with the red spider lily as the focus or accent to the work. But what had Hoseok pausing in mid-swig of his water was the metal spider lily that sat on a white satin pillow. He wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or the type of metal Erica chose to forge with, but the flower had an ethereal sheen to it that nearly mesmerized him. He unconsciously began reaching for it, stopping just before his fingers could actually touch it.

A sudden shock rocketed up his arm, startling him. Recoiling, he pulled his hand back quickly. He managed a few short breaths before collecting himself. “I’m sorry…” Hoseok pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “I don’t know what came over me just now.”

Erica said nothing. She just looked at him, her expression giving away nothing. Hoseok wasn’t sure if he'd made her mad, but she didn’t appear to be upset with him. After a moment of unbearably awkward silence, she smiled and moved to pick up the sheet from the floor.

“I’m glad you like them,” was all she said before covering up her artworks with the sheet. Wiping her hands along the front of her apron, Erica reached into the front pocket and pulled out a hair tie. As she pulled her thick curls back into a low ponytail, she glanced over her shoulder back at the concealed pieces. “I should be done in another week. Just in time to get everything set up for the showcase.”

Something inside of Hoseok mourned their absence once they were completely hidden from view. There was a soft ache nestled at the front of his chest and he absentmindedly rubbed at it. Erica seemed to sense a shift in his demeanor and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Are you tired?”

A flash of white erupted in his line of sight, almost blinding him. Hoseok’s ears began to ring as different voices seemed to jump around in his head. Replacing the white void was a lush green field and when he next looked up, he was staring face to face with not Erica, but a different woman. She blinked up at him as she lifted her face from her forearms, looking a little sleepy.

Her lips parted and she leaned back quickly, gasping a little as he blinked curiously at her.

“W-What?” she stammered out, heat rushing up her neck and spreading over her cheeks. “What’s the matter?”

He was crouched down on the ground, his elbows resting on his knees. But he didn’t move any closer to her. “I was asking if you were tired.”

And in a flash, it was gone. He was back in the world he knew, his eyes wide and staring straight into Erica’s face. She was close, as if inspecting his features, and he felt her press the back of her wrist against his forehead.

“W-What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice trembling.

She frowned, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I was asking if you were tired.”

Hoseok’s heart practically lodged itself in his throat.

“But now that I’m getting a better look, you don’t seem so good. It might be the heat.” Erica took a step back while reaching into her apron pocket. “I’ll call a cab for you.” Turning her back to him, she shifted her focus to her phone, leaving Hoseok dazed and confused.

His body reacted before his mind could. He quickly closed the distance between them, slamming his chest into her back. His water bottle clattered to the floor and he heard Erica gasp, feeling her back muscles tense up as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Hoseok felt vibrations along his skin and it was hard for him to tell if Erica was the one shaking, or if it was him.

“D-Director Jung?”

Her voice brought Hoseok crashing back to reality. He promptly released her, taking several steps back as he held his hands up. “I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Erica turned to look at him. However, instead of an expression of rage or confusion, he could see something akin to sadness. Why was she sad? Had he somehow damaged something that he hadn’t intended to? And why had his body reacted in such a way? It felt natural. Being that near to her felt right and safe.

Yet he couldn’t ignore the heavy despair that sat at the bottom of his lungs.

He quickly pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the entrance of the warehouse. The echo of his footsteps reverberated off the walls, but only his. Erica made no move to chase after him.

“Do you have to go?”

Her voice blanketed every square inch of him, halting him in mid-retreat. Craning his neck slowly, he glanced over to see that Erica was holding her phone at her side. Her expression never changed, still showing that sad sense of longing that he couldn’t quite understand the reasoning behind it. Her entire being was a mystery and one that he didn’t think he’d be able to escape from.

Another voice echoed in his mind.

“I don’t want you to go.”

It was his own.

Something was wrong and he didn’t know how to fix it. All he could do was run for now. It was the easiest solution, even though he knew it probably wasn’t the best one.

“...I’ll see you when it’s time to prepare for the showcase, Miss Bronwyn. Have a good rest of your evening.”

And without wanting to risk looking back, Hoseok quickly moved down the sidewalk. There was no way he was driving back home. Not with his nerves this severely rattled. Pulling out his phone, he was already dialing Namjoon.

He needed a drink.

The showcase was successful and received tons of recognition and positive feedback. It was to be expected. Erica was far from arrogant, but she was completely confident in her own skills. If anyone had anything negative to say, it was usually in reference to her chosen style and medium than anything else. But even the harshest of critics would finally admit that her talent was forged from years of practice, study, and due diligence. She should have been proud and, in some measure, she was.

But surface level pride could only do so much to nourish her spirit.

Erica could feel her determination starting to wane. The encounter she had with Hoseok at her warehouse caused a surge of hope to ignite inside of her. But following his hasty retreat, she hadn’t been able to get in touch with him. All calls were forwarded to Namjoon and while he did his best to reassure her that everything was fine, Erica could hardly take comfort in his words.

The way he embraced her in the workshop fueled something inside of both Ehri and herself. While the passion simmered on the surface from Ehri’s memories, Erica felt drawn to Hoseok as well. Her own affection and longing to understand him stayed hovering above the surface. She wanted to know him and empathize with him, not because of the past, but for the present.

Ehri’s feelings coincided with her own. They both wanted Hoseok to heal and feel the beauty of reconnection. But it wouldn’t be possible if he kept keeping her at a distance. She didn’t know when she would be able to talk to him again outside of work-related subjects. Would there be an opportunity to bridge the gap before she was scheduled to head back to the United States?

She wanted to be able to impart something to him before what little development happened disappeared into a puff of smoke.

Her phone buzzed on her nightstand and Erica absentmindedly looked at the screen. It was Namjoon, reminding her that there was to be a celebratory dinner being held in her honor in a few hours. Benjamin told her that it would be in her best interest to attend, regardless of the outcome and of the events that transpired prior to tonight. Erica wasn’t sure if she wanted to go, but she also knew that there was a level of professionalism and decorum that needed to be adhered to.

Picking up her phone, she texted Namjoon that she would meet them there. Sighing, she looked back at her reflection in the mirror. Erica’s appearance was so different from Ehri’s. Being half Korean and half African American at least blessed her with Asian eyes and a Korean button nose. But her olive skin, thick curly hair and heart-shaped face helped to differentiate her from the rest of the crowd. Not belonging to one community or the other, it took a lot of struggles in her life to accept and respect her origins.

Having the soul of a Mongolian woman from centuries in the past made adjusting to her life in the present a little bit harder to deal with than she would have cared to admit.

“May as well try to enjoy myself,” she muttered, moving from the vanity to begin getting ready.

Erica opted for a simple hunter green cocktail dress. It was safe, eloquent but not too gaudy to bring a lot of attention to herself. Dolling up her face with natural makeup and a soft bronzer for the finish, she chose gold hoops and a simple gold necklace with a flower pendant to finish the look. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail placed on the side to accentuate her high cheekbones. Slipping into a pair of simple, black strappy heels, she grabbed her purse and dialed for a cab.

It didn’t take her long to arrive. This particular lounge was a comfortable bar and restaurant. Reservations were required to enter, as well as an appropriate dress code. After she gave the host her name, she was escorted to the back to a private dining area.

Her assistants at the shop and Benjamin greeted her warmly. Namjoon came and shook her hand, as well as giving her a hug. Hoseok was the last to speak with Erica and his appearance seemed serene and unsettled. It was a stark contrast to the last time she saw him, having seen his visibly shaken countenance soon after he embraced her. But now he conducted himself like a professional in every sense of the word.

She was smiling on the outside, but on the inside Erica could feel the distance growing even more between them.

Everyone cheered and congratulated Erica on her endeavors. It was a grueling two and a half weeks, but everything was complete and they all reassured her that the showcase went off without a hitch. She smiled and laughed when it was appropriate, downing flute after flute of champagne. It was the only way she could keep the pain in her chest at bay. Bellies full with food and booze, Erica quickly excused herself so she could enjoy the evening air on the lounge’s back patio.

The cool breeze soothed her warm skin, allowing her a small respite from her thoughts. Smiling sadly to herself, she had to admit that the evening was fun and her time in Korea was also enjoyable. There was no sense in rushing anything, even though she could feel Ehri’s desperation to reunite with the man she loved. But didn’t Erica have a say as well? This was her life just as much as it was Ehri’s. It was unfair to push all unresolved feelings of yearning onto someone who wasn’t prepared for it.

Things had to be taken slowly. Patience needed to be grasped.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” a voice said from behind her.

Erica turned, surprised to see Hoseok standing out on the patio with her. He handed her a glass of water and she politely accepted it. Turning back to face the city, she leaned against the metal railing and looked up at the sky. Hoseok sidled up next to her, taking in the fresh air and the landscape as well.

“Thank you for hosting this party for me, Director Jung.” It was the only thing Erica could think to say at that particular moment. She didn’t want to create any awkward tension between them.

“Please, just call me Hoseok.” Erica turned to look at Hoseok, blinking in semi-shock to see him actually looking back at her. His brows furrowed and he seemed to be battling internally with something. “I want to apologize for my behavior. It was rude and uncalled for.” She opened her mouth to speak, but Hoseok shook his head, silencing all protests she might have had. “No. Truly, it was unacceptable. Instead of rationalizing what happened that day at your workshop, I let my emotions get the better of me and pushed you away.”

Her shoulders sagged as her expression darkened. She didn’t want this kind of apology. She wanted understanding and to have a conversation about what happened. Apologizing for it meant that Hoseok most likely wanted to sweep it under the rug; to forget about everything. But if his response was anything remotely close to what she was hoping for, a type of awakening, then the last thing she wanted was to have him ignore it.

“There are these feelings I can’t shake when I’m around you.” Erica saw a pained look cross his features as Hoseok reached up to grasp at the front of his shirt. “Hell, even when I’m not around you, I’m overwhelmed. I hear my voice and I see you.” He paused long enough to avert his gaze. “But then I don’t see you. I can’t figure out the meaning behind it all and it's haunted me every waking hour since we separated.”

Erica felt her lips part slightly, wanting to reach out and hold him close. She wanted to let him know that everything would be fine. He just needed to take it slow. He just needed to breathe.

Instead, she smiled and grasped his hand in her own. “It’s okay to be scared, y’know?” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I was scared too.”

Hoseok blinked, his confusion obvious. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read about this sort of thing happening. It could transpire in a variety of different ways. Every case is different.” Erica squeezed his hand, pressing her thumb into the center of his palm. “What you’re experiencing is the direct result of having met me. Your mind is starting to process what your body already accepts and understands.”

This was probably too much at once. Erica could sense it from the cold sweat forming in Hoseok’s palms. But every time she felt him beginning to pull away, she continued to hold his hand even tighter. Running from this wasn’t an option. He would either choose to submit to this ideology or deny it altogether.

Running was out of the question.

“E-Erica-ssi,” he stammered, his eyes widening with every word she spoke. It broke her heart and fueled her determination simultaneously. “I...I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Hoseok-ah,” Erica said slowly, dropping the honorific on purpose. It startled her more than it did him, despite it visibly showing on his face. “When you look into my eyes, what do you see? What do you feel when you look at me?”

Silence swirled around them, the ambient noise of the city a mere whisper on the cusp of how much energy was radiating between them. Erica maintained eye-contact with Hoseok and the intensity of her gaze was enough to keep him from looking away. She needed him to see what was buried in the depths of her soul; the very person who wished so hard to be reborn just so she could be with the man she loved so much.

The transition would be terrifying to experience, but at least he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

She watched him swallow the lump in his throat and for a split second, her vision blurred from the onset of tears she was fighting so hard not to shed. Erica couldn’t afford to break down now. Not when he was so close to voicing the truth he wouldn’t be able to escape.

“I see you. But a you that isn’t you.” Hoseok bit his lower lip and she could feel his body trembling as she continued to hold his hand. “I feel like I know you. But the me that knows you isn’t someone I recognize.” He held a hand to his forehead, his hip leaning against the metal railing for support. “He has my voice...but there’s something off about it.”

“It’s not off. It’s just different. What else?” Erica rubbed comforting circles with her thumb along his knuckles now to ease the tension. “Do you remember anything else?”

“A name.”

Erica’s heart hammered like thunder against her ribs. “...a name?”

With his hand still pressed to his forehead, he peered into her eyes and something different swirled in his dark depths. It was clarity and resignation, albeit fearful. But it sat confidently in his gaze, his eyes taking on a glassy sheen under the fluorescent bulbs from the street lamps.

“Your name.” He took a step forward, twisting his hand so that his fingers were laced through hers. “I see you, Bayaraa Ehri.”

The tears she’d been holding back mercilessly fell, streaming her cheeks. She dropped the glass of water from her hands, letting it shatter around her feet. She didn’t care that her feet were wet or that she’d broken something. The sound barely registered in her mind. Erica never imagined this feeling of reconnection would explode inside of her. It was like Ehri’s soul was singing with renewed vigor; her second breath of life finally given the opportunity to breathe ; to be.

She smiled through her tears, relishing in the feel of Hoseok’s hand resting against her cheek. His thumb stroked affectionate circles beneath her eye. The look on his face mirrored the face of the man Bayaraa Ehri loved so much.

A face that Erica Bronwyn loved as well.

“I see you too, Wang Hoseok…” She reached up to brush her fingers through the fringe of his hair. “And I see you, Jung Hoseok.”

Not wanting to destroy the moment, all Erica could do was bask in the glow of her own feelings. Not Ehri’s, but her own sense of joy and fulfillment in that very instant. Hoseok pulled her closer and she felt her heart rate escalate until she was forced to close her eyes. She felt his breath along her skin as her body pressed against his; melding into it.

And then his lips brushed against hers, sending her whole world into a tailspin.

Her mouth parts slightly at his silent insistence, tasting his lips. It was a mixture of champagne and her raspberry lip gloss. Erica’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, nearly causing her legs to buckle in agony. She felt Hoseok’s fingers curl even tighter through her own, his other hand having vacated the planes of her face to press along the curve of her lower back. Erica’s own hand gripped at the base of his neck, the roaring thunder of her heart exploding in her ears.

Until there was stillness. Silence. So quiet that both body and soul could savor the moment; to, once again, garner meaning to their existence.

Erica Bronwyn was scared.

Bayaraa Ehri was terrified.

Both were elated beyond measure.

“Oh, that?” He stood from the small stool situated at her bedside and retrieved the box from the table. After he sat back down, he opened it and showed her the metallic spider lily inside. “Do you like it?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad.” He closed the box. “It was supposed to be your wedding present, but I figured this would help lift your spirits some.”

Ehri sighed a little, her brows furrowing. “But didn’t you say that the legend of the Spider Lily is a sad story?” She pouted again. “Why would you give me such a thing as a wedding present?”

Hoseok reached out to pet her head. “I bought this from an artisan who claimed that this flower is different from the actual spider lily.”

“Different how?”

Again, he opened the box to show her the lovely flower. “He said that anyone who possesses this flower is guaranteed to be reunited with their love in the next life. It will not come to pass like in the tale of Manju and Saka.”

“How can he guarantee that?”

“I asked the same thing,” Hoseok said while laughing. He closed the box. “But we will just have to see when we are reborn again, hm?” He stroked her cheek with his fingers. “I want to love you again in our next life, Ehri-ah.”

Hoseok cried out, gulping a lungful of air as the sheets clung to his upper body like a second skin. Bolting upright, he stared wide-eyed at the space just below his wall clock. The ticking of the second hand sounded like muffled gunshots in his ears. His breath came in heavy, short intervals and it took him a moment to actually calm down.

Groping in the dark for his phone, he barely managed to snatch it off the nightstand. The screen instantly lit up to show the time in blinding white numbers.

4:37AM.

Everything felt like a dream. Or, rather, like he was dreaming while still awake. When Hoseok was asleep, he didn’t feel like he was actually sleeping. Instead of dreams, his mind was filled with memories in colors so vibrant they were nearly blinding. His world, the world he’d always known, felt so faded and seemingly colorless in comparison. This was a life; his life. His old cycle that was now blossoming with life and fervor, threatening to burst clear from his body and soar to the skies.

Hugging his chest, he leaned forward and shuddered. A cold sweat peppered across his back and neck, dripping from his nose. His hands felt clammy and cold, no matter how much he rubbed his arms up and down to soothe the overwhelming sensation wrapping around him.

He needed to get up. He needed to move. His body would lock up and go into shock if he didn’t.

Stumbling from his bed, Hoseok felt the sheets wrapping around his ankles. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, his breathing escalating as he tried to sit back up. A spike of pain struck at the forefront of his mind, causing him to cry out. Fluttering petals swirled around the bedroom as a ray of morning light seemed to spread in a cone through the large bay windows.

“Seobang-nim?”

Hoseok hummed.“Yes, what is it, Pu-in?”

She smiled, closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” Ehri gripped her fingers a little tighter around his. “Thank you for everything.”

Hoseok moved, causing Ehri to lift her head up so she had to look at him. While one hand held hers, his other rested along her neck. “Pu-in…”

“I love you,” she whispered to him, leaning forward to press her lips against his.

White heat burned his eyes, causing him to cover them with both hands. He screamed, the painful throb beating mercilessly against his temples. All he could do was curl up into a ball, writhing in agony as the images continued to flash in rapid succession like a camera shutter.

Laughter.

So much laughter.

Worry.

Hope.

Determination.

Resignation.

Overwhelming despair.

Rolling over onto his side, he clutched the letter in his hands as his tears soaked into his silk pillow. “No,” he whispered, his voice barely recognizable, “I don’t want to be here to see it alone. I don’t want to see it march on without you here with me.”

And then, the proverbial dam inside of him broke. Everything surged into him all at once. Every single memory of the past pulsed through him. He remembered everything.

His life as a member of the royal household’s branch family.

His parents.

His brothers.

The street market vendor who sold him the spider lily forged in metal.

"I find it hard to believe that you don't," teased the vendor, which caused Hoseok to cant his head slightly, "but let's just say that this flower isn't an ordinary spider lily. The one who forged this flower said that the tragedy still exists inside, just as the legend dictates. But unlike Manju and Saka, the one who holds this flower will be able to reunite with their loved one in the next life. Guaranteed."

And the moment he first laid eyes on Bayaraa Ehri, the woman he loved.

The woman he would continue to love even into their next life.

Sobbing into his hands was all he could do at that moment. In the midst of his pain, he was experiencing everything simultaneously. It was sensory overload at its finest.

And then there was absolute quiet.

Still. Quiet. Clarity.

Jung Hoseok and Wang Hoseok were now truly one.

Clambering to his feet, he quickly made his way to the bathroom. He showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. Faded jeans and a gray hoodie comprised his attire, but he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. As he left his apartment, the security lock beeping as the door closed, he beelined for the elevator. He was already dialing for a cab before the lift dinged to signify he was on the ground floor. The driver greeted him warmly, despite the late hour, and Hoseok did his best to remain polite. But desperation nearly superseded his need to be amicable.

He gave the driver the address to Erica’s hotel and as they made the drive, he called her. Her sleepy voice answered and Hoseok felt like he’d grown wings. Erica’s voice, to him, sounded like Ehri’s. And Ehri’s voice was now Erica’s. He finally understood what she meant when she said she’d been afraid too.

It must have been like this for her. It must have been like this for her for a long time.

“Erica, it’s me.”

“Hoseok-ssi?” He could hear shuffling on the other line. “Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

He smiled, unable to keep his joy hidden. “I’m almost at your hotel. Can you meet me in the lobby?”

“Uh, sure. Let me get dressed…”

They said their goodbyes just as the cab driver announced they would be arriving shortly. He quickly paid the man, dashing toward the front entrance of the hotel. The sliding glass doors barely had time to open as Hoseok squeezed his way through them. The elevator dinged and the doors parted to reveal Erica dressed in a large sweatshirt and leggings. She was barely able to open her mouth and say his name before he pushed into the elevator, knocking her back against the wall. His lips immediately sealed over her own and she gasped, reaching up to grip at his shoulders while steadying both of them at the same time.

He broke the kiss, allowing them to breathe, and he couldn’t help but admire the pink tinge settling along her olive skin. She huffed, her chest pressed against his. He was having a difficult time discerning whose heart was beating the hardest.

“H-Hoseok,” Erica managed to say, her brows lifted in surprised, “what’s the matter?”

“I remember it all.” Hoseok watched her eyes widen even further and he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I remember everything .” She moved to cover her mouth with her hand, but he grabbed it, keeping it away from her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to breathe in her scent; her very soul into his being. “I’m me. I’m the me of today and yesterday.”

Hoseok watched her bottom lip quiver as tears filled her eyes. “E-Everything?”

He nodded. “Everything.”

They both inhaled sharply, their lips seeking eachother out. He could feel her body trembling as he held her tightly against her, not caring that he was shedding tears himself. And as their lips parted once more, he leaned down so their noses were barely touching - the swell of her mouth still so close to his own.

“Wang Hoseok missed her desperately,” he whispered against her lips, “and Jung Hoseok needs you desperately.”

He could see the trepidation visibly fleeing from her gaze. It must have been the one thing that she was still fearful over; the one thing that she didn’t want to give a voice to. Because he was afraid for the same reason.

If one spirit had more power over the other, would the other cease to exist?

But he could sense it. His consciousness and the consciousness of his old self were nestled side by side. They were choosing to coexist in this moment and for every moment that would transpire after. Half of his heart longed for Bayaraa Ehri and the other half was pulled in Erica Bronwyn’s direction. Two halves of a whole begging to be acknowledged and listened to.

Again, Hoseok kissed her full lips; drank in her very being. She didn’t have the same face as Ehri, but her soul was there - standing alongside the woman who lived in this life.

The life of Erica Bronwyn.

“You’ve dealt with this longer than I have.” He smiled against her mouth. “I’m afraid that I’ll have to request your assistance on the matter.”

Erica pulled back a measure and he took a moment to sweep his hands over her tear-stained cheeks. She did the same for him. “That’s fine,” she whispered, shifting forward so he was forced to move in the opposite direction with his back pressed against the wall. Her hand reached over to the different buttons on the elevator’s panel and she hit the one for her floor. The lift shook and then moved upward. “There’s no rush.”

Hoseok smiled openly and she, in turn, smiled as well. They were still themselves. But they were also two people pulling the past behind them. With Ehri’s illness came a sense of despair that was often smothered with the hope that a miracle would transpire. But when the end came, it was swift and merciless. Their time was short, but their love was magnanimous. Everything felt rushed, just like the manner in which he’d regained the memories of his old life.

There was no sense of urgency present. Erica and Hoseok could both take their time as pieces of their souls found solace in reuniting again. They had the opportunity to love and fall in love all over again.

The true miracle was now.

He pulled her close, nestling his face into the crook of her neck as she wrapped her arms around his. Again, he drank in her scent, pressing a hand against the back of her head - his palm resting along the thick nest of curls. For a small eternity, Hoseok held her in his arms. And seconds before the elevator dinged for the appropriate floor, he lifted his head back only to turn his face to meet Erica’s lips again, savoring the taste of her as if for the very first time. The steady drum of their hearts beat in time with one another.

Now that we have the time...

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caspian-skye · 5 years ago

Text

The Apoptosis Project Ch.1, Darkness Returns

Heya! I figured I’d start uploading my series directly to Tumblr too, rather than just linking. So this is The Apoptosis Project, a series that takes place 25 years after the events of RWBY. It’s the sequel to GRAE/Twilight Crusade that follows the main characters’ children and a few more characters, but you can definitely read it without ever reading the former series.

“Twenty-five years after Salem's defeat, twins Caspian and Lazula Skye are finally of age to attend their father's academy; just in time for the Creatures of Grimm to return. While fighting the revived horror alongside Frontline Biomedical's controversial Organic Androids, they begin to unravel a web of secrets ensnaring more than they could have ever known.”

Now initiating The Apoptosis Project...

On a clear night, sailors off Vale's coast swore they could see the lights of Port Cyrreine from fifty miles away. A rainbow of hues, from thousands of windows and holographic ads within the glimmering maze of skyscrapers, reflected in ripples upon the placid black waters off the city's Southern shore. In front of the wall of light was a lively boardwalk; the vendors stands, restaurants, and crowds of people barely visible in the shadow of a ferris wheel lit bright blue for the night. From a distance, a muffled chorus of sirens could be heard.

Two airships jetted toward the city, the air in their wake tearing the water's surface.

"Reports on the ground indicate an attack by the Creatures of Grimm," a man's voice scratched through the radio. "I repeat, eyewitnesses are reporting an attack by the creatures of Grimm!"

"Grimm?!" Another voice repeated. "No way in hell, those things have been gone for, what? Thirty years now? You sure it's not Sentinel's animatronics?"

"We've established contact with Headmaster Skye of Sentinel. He was at the academy's practice grounds when the incident began, and has confirmed all animatronics are in place," a woman reported.

"What do we know about the incident so far, then?"

"Just under a hundred port workers were laid off, and replaced with a couple dozen of Frontline's organic androids. A peaceful protest turned violent when the Red Claw showed up. Right after that is when reports of Grimm started coming in," the woman replied.

"Griswold Baine has sent his son and a team of organds to help sort things out on the ground over there. ETA: less than five minutes," the man on the radio concluded.

The two airships landed on a flat slab of concrete near the docks, lit by the shipyard cranes above. The door to one lifted to reveal a golden-haired warrior. His armor, fixed over a jet black bodysuit, was dozens of silvery white plates covering chest, shoulders, waist, hips, and legs; the edge of each plate gilded with a shining trim. His eyes were obscured by a knight-like visor, with a single light blue band to ensure vision. Behind him, a score of armored huntsmen.

"There have been reports of deaths in the area," the man assessed. "All of you. Secure the entrances to each building. Search for survivors, and ensure their safety!"

"Yes, sir!" the huntsmen shouted in unison. They began to pour out onto the streets, save three.

"Desmond, Lavender, Nikole! You three are with me!"

"Yes, sir!" a broad-shouldered man, and two women confirmed.

The street before the huntsmen was a hellscape, far from the peaceful mundanity typical of the city's port district. To each side of the street, flames leapt from shattered windows, dumpsters, and the hollowed-out remains of cars and shipping equipment. Smoke poured into the alleyways, shading the entire area an eerie shade of orange.

The golden-haired warrior held his wrist out in front of him, projecting a holographic screen from his Holoband, a watch-like strap around his wrist. With two fingers, he zoomed in on a map of the area. A yellow marker indicated his position on the water's edge. Several blocks away, a zone was highlighted a bright red.

"Looks like the Red Claw's taken control of a warehouse two blocks Northwest. Our mission is to clear them out, and secure the area. Move out!"

"Midas! Look!" One of the huntsman's allies interjected, pointing ahead.

He raised his head. Through the smoke, he could make out several black forms. Though on all fours, they stood nearly his height. Their claws scratched viciously at the pavement as they charged forward, their hungry snarls audible above the breaking of glass and crackling of flame.

"Beowolves."

Without a second's hesitation, Midas charged forward with Desmond, Lavender, and Nikole in tow. From his back he pulled a beautiful halberd, taller than he and crafted from the same steel as his armor. He plunged the tip of his weapon into the open jaws of the first beast, and flipped through the air. He flung the unfortunate Grimm backward into a shield bash from Desmond, and brought the axe's head down on the next beast as he landed. A pair of swift spins despatched two more Grimm before he ducked, deflecting the swipe of another across the shaft of his weapon. Lavender, his teammate in purple, pounced with a pair of bladed tonfas.

The four continued on, clearing out a handful more Grimm on the way to the warehouse. As Midas approached a corner, he held an arm out, indicating his teammates to stop. "The Red Claw's stronghold is just ahead. Post up here, and defend my flank from Grimm. I'll be fine alone."

The three filled into the street; Desmond in front, posted with his shield. Nikole and Lavender to his sides. Midas stepped forward. The smoke and uncanny glow of the main street grew more intense as he pressed on. From the fog came the scratching of countless feet, their claws impaling concrete with each heavy step.

A stark white pincer, as big as Midas himself, burst from the smoke. He held his weapon up to block the attack, but was forced backward by the power behind the strike. Another pincer attack was met with his weapon's axehead, and forced into the ground. Two lines of beady red eyes glowed behind the pair of claws, and the creature scuttled into view. Its body was the length of a school bus, low to the ground and clad in bony spines for armor. The scorpion's tail curled over its body, ending in a malicious golden stinger.

The deathstalker screamed with rage. Midas spun with the momentum of another blocked claw swipe, and thrust the tip of his halberd into the stinger as it bore down on him. He gripped his weapon's handle as the beast hoisted him into the air.

He cracked a grin as the tip of his halberd unfolded, freeing him from the monster. His weapon's shaft folded backward, until it had transformed into a bow. Still in mid-air, he pulled back on the string of hard-light dust. The vibrant arcs of electricity crackling around his body became one with the bolt of focused energy forming at his weapon, and he let fly.

The deathstalker halted in sudden stiffness as the bolt shattered the armor at the back of its head, a shockwave rippling through the smoke. The beast's tail uncurled and slammed to the ground next to the huntsman as he landed. It began to dissolve into the night.

The huntsman paused, eyes fixed ahead. He had only taken two labored breaths before two men leapt into view, blades prepared to kill. He swore, and electricity coarsed its way through his halberd just before he raised it to block a vicious overhead axe swing. Static worked its way down his enemy's weapon. The faunus seized up, and Midas freed his weapon. Aura crackled around the assailant's gut as the tip of Midas's spear was thrust forward. Midas set his feet, once again transforming his weapon back into a bow. He let fly on his second enemy with a point-blank jolt of dust.

The smoke began to clear.

Two dozen feet ahead, a truck had been tipped onto its side, blocking most of the lane. On the edge of the cab sat a bald-headed woman, clad in leather robes of black and white. As her eyes met his visor, a broad, serpentine tail pulled up from behind her, and settled in her lap.

"Red Claw commander!" Midas called. "Who are you working for? He's here, isn't he?!"

"And why would I tell you, prettyboy?" the commander mocked, her tail lashing once. "Although, by the way you asked that, you already know the answer."

A young woman's voice faded in and out. She seemed to want something.

The morning light pouring in the window was far too bright. The plush bedcovers weighed the boy's body down, sinking him deeper into his mattress. He groaned, and rolled over.

"Come on, get up. My breakfast is getting cold."

"Go away, Lazula," the boy mumbled, feebly shooing her away. He gathered his pillow in front of his eyes.

"Lilly's gonna be there..." the young woman teased, her voice softening. "Sleep much longer, and you won't be able to shower."

Lilly. Lilliane Corvis-Braun. The very image of beauty, kindness, and feminine grace, in the boy's eyes. Sure, they had been friends for the longest time. She probably wouldn't judge him for one morning of disheveled hair. But still. He couldn't stand the thought of questionable hygiene on a day he would see her. He worked his way upright, shivering as the blankets fell to his waist. He turned to look at his sister with an exaggerated look of bitterness.

Though the two were twins, the young man and Lazula bore little resemblance. Lazula had inherited her father's strong chin; dark, full brows; and long, straight nose. Her eye color was difficult to discern. Though mostly a green-heavy hazel, transient flecks of nearly every color seemed to come and go, by lighting and by the minute. Her hair, a vivid electric blue, was swept to one side in front, tied into a messy low bun in back. Rebellious strands of hair fell to each side of her face, the biggest running down the bridge of her nose. Caspian guessed she had snuck in some early-morning training.

Between the young man's soft, kind-looking face, large round eyes of a vivid blue, and button nose, he was quite obviously his mother's child. His hair was coarse yet voluminous, falling in fluffy layers to eyebrow level in front, and chin level in back. His deep blue roots were visible at the crown of his head, but faded to silver further away.

"Good morning, Caspian. You slept for seven hours and thirty-seven minutes," the automated voice of a woman reported from the headboard. "Would you like to see this morning's top news stories?"

"Yes," Lazula cut in. She nudged her brother as he began to doze off again.

A holographic screen flashed up across the foot of the bed, displaying an aerial view of a street near the docks. Between the stacks of shipping containers and open flames, three beowolves and a hulking, ursine form ran. "Darkness returns: eight are confirmed dead and fourteen have been wounded in a Port Cyrreine Grimm attack overnight. Authorities confirm this is the first Grimm attack in twenty-five years," the voice stated. "Vytal Tournament champion Midas Baine was dispatched to the scene with his team and several organic androids, but was ultimately unsuccessful in apprehending the woman believed to be behind the attack."

"Jeez... Looks like Ichigo was right," Caspian said, putting on the round lens, wire-framed glasses that rested against his bedside lamp. "He told me Grimm were sighted, and I... well, was I supposed to just believe it?"

Lazula sighed. "Looks like this huntsman education will do us some good after all." She stood, and walked to the door of Caspian's room. She rested one hand on the doorknob and turned around. "We have to pass the entrance exam first. You should start getting ready."

"Of course you'll pass..." Caspian muttered, watching Lazula leave. He switched off the holographic screen, which had changed stories to show a bald, bearded man in a tailored suit giving a speech. After grabbing a bite to eat, throwing a few last-minute items into his suitcase, and grabbing his pre-planned outfit of a blue knit sweater and khakis, he made his way to the shower.

The water scalded his back, but he paid no mind as it drained between his feet. "Today is the day," he thought. He took a deep breath. The final entrance examination. His written scores, apparently, had been on par with the top percentage of Sentinel applicants. He scraped by the physical tests, but today...

Every time he thought about it, it made him feel a little sick.

Caspian turned off the water. One typical morning routine later, and he opened the door, giving himself one last look in the mirror. Yet as he turned to the doorway, he started.

His eyes locked with a colorless stare. Not silver, not even a light blue. Her irises were entirely devoid of color. Her matching hair was styled neatly, bangs sweeping across her forehead and tucking under the locks that framed her doll-like face. Her hair in back tapered to a single point at the nape of her neck.

"Oh! Snow. Thank you, for the jumpscare," Caspian said, grinning with embarrassment and holding a hand over his chest.

Though Caspian's heart was one beat from leaping out of his throat, the girl was entirely unperturbed. Her gaze followed him. "Your mother told me to tell you she would like to leave in twenty minutes." Her eyes cast downward, looking to the holoscreen she projected from the band at her wrist. "This was two minutes ago. Will you be ready in eighteen minutes?"

"Eighteen?" Caspian repeated. He pursed his lips, and grabbed several items from the bathroom counter. "I guess I'll have to be. Oh, if you're here, is Uncle Doug around?" he guessed.

"He's working this morning. He said he will try to attend the Final Examination," Snow said. Her voice was soft, hardly ever carrying much more strength than a whisper. Words followed each other in disengaged monotony.

She turned, beginning to walk down the hall. Caspian admired her combat outfit, which she had already changed into. A snow white vest made of neoprene met her skirt at belt level, on which she holstered the handle of her weapon. The skirt was patterned into the interweaving fractal arms of a snowflake, layers underneath, visible in the gaps between the snowflake's arms, a shade of light blue. She wore a collared shirt of the same shade beneath her vest, the tight sleeves coming down to her wrists. Black socks were the only hint of darkness to her outfit, starting at her knee and feeding into her glossy white boots.

The hum of the airship's engines was all Caspian heard. It was the perfect background noise for his thoughts, all blending together into one monotonous drone. Snow sat beside him, her vacant gaze matching Caspian's out the window. Lazula sat a few rows behind the pair, watching a video from her last tournament, playing and replaying to study each of her moves meticulously.

The city of Port Cyrreine was founded on two peninsulas, jutting out into the ocean like a massive pair of jaws. The Southern peninsula, further from the airship window, held the city's downtown. Closer to the mainland, the skyscrapers tapered off into a maze of dingy mid-rise buildings, an area of town Caspian intended to avoid.

Toward the peninsula's tip, a magnificent structure of glass and steel. The apexes of two black towers, one just half the height of the taller, skewered the sky. A golden ring circled the neck of the giant, holding an airship platform several hundred feet above the ground below. A shell of smooth, silvery-white encased the Northern side of the structure, which loomed above the mouth of the bay. Etched upon it in thin black lettering, "Frontline Biomedical."

Snow's eyes seemed intent on the building.

The Northern peninsula; the tract of land the airship carrying Caspian, Lazula, and Snow, descended over; was a mish-mash of residential areas and small businesses. Frontline's main hospital sat on the tip, directly North of corporate headquarters.

"Perks of being the Headmaster's kids," Caspian noted, sticking a finger to the window and peering down. "We don't have to sit in that."

Lazula appeared, leaning over Caspian's seat and looking to the city below. Seacrest Bridge, the lone road between the two halves of Port Cyrreine, was packed bumper to bumper.

"Lilly's there, she said she's with Rowan and Ichigo," Lazula said. "Laurel's on her way, but the traffic doesn't look bad from the North. Still, I don't envy whoever's stuck in that mess."

A few minutes passed, and Caspian looked away from the window and into his lap as the airship slowed to a stall. He felt it begin to descend upon a mile-wide cape that stuck into the bay from the city's Northern half.

The campus of Sentinel Academy.

#rwby oc #rwby #rwby fanfiction #writing

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ysalamiri-queen · 5 years ago

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2019 Fic in Review

Inspired by @myevilmouse I’m going to sum up all the writing I’ve been up to the past year. I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished, and thanks to you all for the encouragement to put my ideas out into the world! This has been a year of trying new things, and really growing as an author I feel… And wow according to AO3 I’ve written about 400k words in the past 12 months, damn. So let’s get to the list, going from the beginning of the year to the end, and as always please heed the tags on these before reading.

Note: As I go back, I’m realizing a lot of the links were messed up or are just straight missing. I am on the Mobile App so things can get messy. Please visit my works page on AO3 HERE to see all of these on my page under JessKo and my other pseuds.

1 Late Night at the Slab

Idea: Filling a prompt for the Thryce server in which some, uh, unique Chiss anatomy was assigned.

Result: A 3-way with Thrawn, Arihnda, and Eli and my first foray into the more Xeno side of things in a Modern AU setting. Yeehaw!

2 The Trouble With Free-Roaming Ysalamiri

Idea: Based on some adorable ysalamiri cuddles art by @strength-through-order I wanted to write some Thranto fluff.

Result: Ysalamiri-filled Thranto fluff X’D

3 Inquisitor’s Debt

Idea: What if the Grand Inquisitor changed sides at the end of Rebels season 1?

Result: Some fun throwbacks with Obi-Wan and Caleb Dume leading up to Quizzy defecting with Ezra.

4 Ancient Stems

Idea: Eli Week drabbles based on the Vanto Week prompts.

Result: A silly buzz droid narrative with Thrawn and some cute slice of life Eli backstory/Ascendancy days bits.

5 Charnsuka

Idea: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai.

Result: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai. Sorry Zane!

6 Caged Like Prized Birds

Idea: Again inspired by the awesome Chiss anatomy and Thrux drawings by @strength-through-order , I wanted to craft a narrative around Armitage, as a young man, stumbling upon a clone of Thrawn.

Result: Man, this might just be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, had so much fun plotting it out and the smut is mmm! Tentacles everywhere~ I’ve gone back to re-read this a lot, I’ll admit it. I hope you all enjoyed it too.

7 Quiet On Set

Idea: Must. Write. Talos.

Result: A cute little platonic x-reader with everyone’s favorite Skrull. This was my first MCU fic too.

8 Diagnostic

Idea: Wanted to apologize to Zane for the damages done in Charnsuka with some Glacier shipping fluff.

Result: A silly glacier thing leading to a bit of foolery. I’m happy with it!

9 Heron Soaring

Idea: A continuation of the plot line from Heron Rising with Kanan and Thrawn.

Result: Too many feels… but some great sex to soften the blow, Kanera too!

10 Patron

Idea: Responding to a tumblr prompt from @wukeskywalker regarding Thrawn commissioning LOADS of artworks of Eli.

Result: More Thranto fluff! I see a trend here…

11 Black Heron

Idea: Kanan x Pryce for @myevilmouse , I think this was our first ‘collaboration’ on something!

Result: Juahir hires a special someone to show Arihnda a good time!

12 Red Heron

Idea: @star-wars-rebels-4 is always an amazing wealth of ideas for Grand Inquisitor, and encouraged a work featuring him and Kanan.

Result: Delicious back alley smut when an undercover Jedi is caught!

13 Warm Homecoming

Idea: Give my and a friend's OCs some cute fluff.

Result: OC fluff and a vacation to Hoth!

14 sowing the seeds

Idea: Add something cute to the spank war project.

Result: Another contender for my ‘favorite thing I’ve ever written’ rank. Two chapters of pining, cooking lessons, and sweet slick smut.

15 Red Frost

Idea: After watching “The Evil of Frankenstein” with @sneakybunyip ‘s amazing movie night group, I wanted to do something fun with Victor and Hans.

Result: A fun little adventure fic with some huddling for warmth to boot. Victor and Hans are the hammer-horror-verse Thranto send tweet.

16 a setting sun to hide the ruins

Idea: What if I tortured Kanan to the point he turned evil and joined the Inquisitors (and went a little insane in the process)

Result: Instead of torture, let’s just use some serum that drives him mad. Perfect. Smut ahoy, pretty much a dead dove type fic.

17 Pinktown

Idea: When browsing abandoned towns in Florida, I came across Flamingo… what if Thrawn had been exiled here instead.

Result: An alternate history of Thrawn’s exile and eventual discovery by the Empire. Huge thanks for @badgerandk on this one for the perfect epilogue and beta.

18 the sun rises to only illuminate the stranger i have become

Idea: Setting sun… part 2! But it’s actually what happens before sun?

Result: How Kanan ended up where he is for ‘a setting sun’... lots of imp smut and again, it's sort of a dead dove style fic.

19 Frozen Over

Idea: Ar’alani x Eli Vanto

Result: Somehow me and my writing partner ended up at sensory deprivation focus on this one.

20 Shape of Honor

Idea: Well, this one started in 2018 but ‘finished’ in 2019. Still working on the epilogue. Lots of tweaks… If you are not familiar, this is my AU in which it explores how the Thrawn novel and Rebels show would be altered if Palpatine distrusted Thrawn from their first meeting and accused him of being a Chiss spy. Vaguely inspired by the film The Shape of Water.

Result: Well it's nearly a novel now, isn’t it. This was a great adventure in learning how to create compelling story arcs. I’m extremely satisfied with how it is shaping (lol) up.

21 Datura Stamonium

Idea: Thrawnbine ovi smut.

Result: Oops it has plot now, a whole backstory with Eli and such and so fourth. Will need further stories told…

22 Desert Entropy

Idea: Luke/Wedge modern AU shenanigans.

Result: Also pulled Nath/Wyl and the Rogue Squad/Alphabet Squad peeps into this. Set in Vegas, Luke and Wedge meet and have a cute little romance, but some legal troubles set them back (Palpatine, as always, is That Bitch™) Very happy ending!

23 The Great Eli and Thrawn Prank War

Idea: See Chapter 1: Mullet Thrawn

Result: This thing really grew up, and thanks to all the contributors for allowing me to join in! My contributions were: 7-Bombs Away! In which a bit of drama brews and Thrawn makes a paint bomb that forces him and Eli back into being roomates. 11-Tooka Troube 2: Electric Boogaloo in which Eli finds his quarters slowly filling up with Tooka plush toys, and then something huge goes off in supply. 17-The Bitch is Back In which who knew Thrawn could sing?!

24 Clipped Wings to Keep Us from Flying

Idea: Continuing the story line from Caged Like Prized Birds

Result: Dragging Eli and the OG Thrawn into this, seeing that their stories were left untold in the first work. Also Armitage and the clone are up to all sorts of cool things. Still a WIP, on the list to keep working on this year!

25 I’ll do what I can.

Idea: Some Ronan/Krennic feels post Treason

Result: A Ronan character study that I really needed to get out of my system and finally a stable alliance between Krennic and Thrawn!

26 Purple Heron

Idea: @punk--kenobi and I concocted some fun Kanan/Zeb/Hera smut featuring Lasat heat cycles.

Result: Ah this came out so cool, full of emotion and wonderful imagery. Massive kudos to @punk--kenobi for beta-ing my portion and contributing some of the best smut one can find!

27 Ninjago Angst Week 2019

Idea: Do some 1-shots for Ninjago Angst Week

Result: ow right in the feels. Each character got a highlight in their own ‘dark retelling of a canon or canon adjacent event’ chapter.

28 Vertigo

Idea: Thing’s don’t go right planetside for Eli, Pik, and Waffle in Treason.

Result: Big oof. I hope Eli can one day forgive me… I even put strain on the end game Thranto! Bittersweet ending and lots of angst.

29 More Than Just a Treat

Idea: What is Obi Wan up to in the desert…

Result: Aunt Beau and baby Luke baked him cookies obviously!

30 Datura Metel

Idea: Continuing the Datura cycle…

Result: Just how Eli ended up where he did in the first installation.

31 Here & Now

Idea: Some Thranto Fluff! For @jewelliffer

Result: A camping trip for shore leave! And a marriage proposal for extra sugar.

32 Monster Under the Bed

Idea: Benevolent Boogeyman Chiss

Result: Modern AU Thranto spooky sillies. Bit of an intense climax but they talk it out!

33 Haunted by Sentiment

Idea: Nath is in denial of being the Squad Dad for @glassprowlers

Result: Nath’s very bad no good oh so terrible day! It's very silly and I really like how it ended up, the title is way more serious than the story itself XD

34 Pulse

Idea: Werewolf AU Lavashipping

Result: Oops Kai is a werewolf! Good thing Cole is here to help him figure out how to press on.

35 Stories from Area 51

Idea: remember the raid Area 51 meme? I do! Gotta clap them alien cheeks!

Result: Oh no it got PLOTTY! Pretty much all of my favorite characters and ships cherry-picked and plopped down into a Men In Black style facility in the middle of the desert. I really have a thing for the desert huh…

36 Good Day

Idea: The “truth” behind the “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto” from Thrawn in Treason.

Result: Oh stars the FEELS! Thrawn is in deep water and he KNOWS IT! GAH!

37 Fur Ball

Idea: Chiss are mogwai/gremlins…

Result: Silly Thranto fluff. Thrass shows up too! Feeding them after midnight is actually a good idea here… Grow your own ideal man!

38 Came Back Haunted

Idea: A mission fic centered around the @peters-pumpkin-day prompts.

Result: Ice planet survival with Tarkin, Krennic, Galen, and Ronan.

39 Sewn Together

Idea: This drawing actually is what lead to the fic-

Result: A fairly unique reuniting of Thrawn and Eli after both return to the Ascendancy.

40 Spiked Heron

Idea: Oh no… Kanan gets himself in deep poodoo this time.

Result: Devaronians really like humans huh? The next chapter is half way written I swear it is coming soon!

41 A Colder Embrace

Idea: Thrawn/Purrgil/Ezra and Luke/Wampa for SW Rare Pairs.

Result: It's very cold on Hoth… and even colder in space.

42 Surround

Idea: Luke/Wedge for SW Rare Pairs

Result: Luke has to confront Wedge post ESB regarding what is, essentially, his deserting the Rebels.

43 What Happens Planetside…

Idea: Eli/Pik/Waffle for SW Rare Pairs

Result: heheh a scrumptious Eli sandwich! And surprise tentacles because, well, why not?

44 Hesperidium

Idea: Fluffy Kylux for the Kylux Secret Santa event

Result: Ah its so sweet you might get a cavity

45 Reanimator

Idea: Lovecraftian eldritch horror Thranto

Result: This is the sort of project that it takes 2 months to fine tune each chapter, so bear with me, but I can promise a wonderful, creepy ride is ahead!

46 Floral

Idea: Luke/Faro for SW Rare Pairs. Enjoy the Jedi lovin’, @myevilmouse

Result: Sex pollen and accidentally defecting from the Empire. Whoops!

47 The Harch

Idea: Bouncing off of THIS art by @mamidlo , we worked together to create this plot. Very much inspired by the Hammer Horror films, such as Dracula and Frankenstein.

Result: A fun and spooky romp of Kallus and Zeb getting trapped in a creepy castle featuring mind controlled drones and a species-obsessed Harch. This was my first time posting the entire story at once, too!

Wow, I can not believe how much has been written this year. Thank you all again for reading and kudos-ing and your amazing comments. I’d not be here without the support and love <3 Cheers to 2020 and much more fic ahead!

#ysalamiri-queen writes #year in review #too many tags XD so im not even goign to try

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