#but for me its makoto x)

[beedalee]

Kissing in the Starlight. ☔

I reposted my older makoto x ami fanart on instagram (it's beedaleeart if you'd like to follow me there. i am trying to be active!) and it reminded me of this sketch I made eons ago. so this is me making good on my promise to myself to make more Makoto x Ami art. ...as a birthday treat!!

I had this scene in my head while listening to makoto's “kissing in the starlight”. (please listen to it... i am begging... her original seiyuu is SO DREAMY in it...)

ALSO...!! I found out they did a duet song for Crystal called "Secret Midnight Talk" where they discuss their insecurities and loneliness with each other... if that's not kinda sapphic IDK what is 🥴

[cochidinh]

Makoto's face under here

[bunnakit]

Love is Better the Second Time Around {Ep. 1 + 2}

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Madk's mangaka is one of the few people who truly understands the old adage

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin

[lazepolar]

honestly this TikTok l found is so relatable..😭 (credit: @itsmaria_simp)

[pixelatedraindrops]

RainCode Sickfic (Sequel 3) preview!

(RainCode Endgame Spoilers!)

Behind the mask…lies the pain you’ve kept hidden all this time…

So as I’ve briefly mentioned multiple times, over winter break I will be writing a new fic, aka the third and final part to my RainCode sickfic trilogy. I call the it the “Sickfics of the Heart” series~ :)

The final fic I write will take place in the post game. Where former Number One, Yuma decides to visit Kanai Ward to check on his homunculus Makoto before the year ends as a break. But he finds out he’s not in good shape health-wise and decides to try to look after him.

I will be making multiple references to my first fic “Home is Where the Heart is” so be sure to read that fic first!

This fic will also contain more angst. (that I will make super fluffy in return :3)

Here is the summary of what I have planned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: A Heartwarming Reunion

With his memories back, Former Number One, now Independent Detective Yuma Kokohead has recently solved yet another case. One more step towards his goal of eradicating all the world’s mysteries. He finds himself a little tired and realized that it was getting close to the end of the year. He thinks maybe it’s a good opportunity to take a small vacation to recuperate.

New Years is usually a time best spent with family. Sadly, Yuma didn’t have any blood relatives. His secondary family was the Nocturnal Detective Agency, but with the master detectives off doing their own thing, and the chief deceased (or rather wandering aimlessly as an undead homunculus zombie) he couldn’t be selfish and take up their time.

But as he thought back to his time spent in Kanai Ward's city of endless rain as an amnesiac, one person crossed his mind. The person who shared his face, his mind and his build. The homunculus clone he had to battle to solve the city’s mystery. (Though he could not remember what exactly happened) The CEO and now Leader of the clouded city of rain full of homunculi like him. Makoto Kagutsuchi.

Yuma thought to himself that even if they were previously enemies, Makoto was probably the closest thing to a blood relative he had left. So he decides to return to Kanai Ward to pay him a visit, to see how the city is fairing and hoping he had some time off to talk and catch up. And as the city’s leader, he was usually alone. He wouldn’t mind a little surprise visit from his original …would he?

Little did Yuma know, that Makoto may have needed his help more than he originally expected. He overhears rumors in the city that speak concerns of Makoto pushing himself too hard. It turns out their city’s leader was ill, and he had only gotten worse due to his days of continuous overworking and trying to brush it off, by hiding it using his mask.

Yuma is about to experience being a caretaker for the first time in his life, and to his own double. He has a bit of trouble at first, but he has a little bit of help from his heartwarming memories of his previous found family, the Nocturnal Detective Agency. He also finds out more about Makoto in the process. Realizing that he’s been in a lot of pain…that he’s kept masked all this time, all alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also yes this edit is terrible... x'D Makoto's sprite art makes it difficult to edit into his body... I tried okay? x-x;

Anyway, I hope you will look forward to it! I will try to get it done by either Christmas or...the end of the year :3c

Also this will likely be a multi-chapter fic.

[misteria247]

ME ON A FRIDAY NIGHT NOT TOTALLY READING ABOUT GAY SWIMMERS FROM A SPORTS ANIME CURRENTLY AT THIS TIME NOPE ABSOLUTELY NORMAL HERE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD

[petorahs]

i find it funny how i literally dont have an opinion on makotoaigis… like i will rb art of them together but i dont do it thinking theyre romantic or anything i just like seeing them together. if it's drawn with actual romance in mind then that's cool too, just not how i'd see it. either way i like them together.

i love both of their characters individually.. which is also peculiar considering a large part of the reason why i like them is their relation and devotion to one another

i think they go beyond what is romantic and platonic theyre just soulmates to me… its enough. they dont need to put a name to it. i will still get emotional over that scene and that other scene and still would want to buy merch of them together it doesnt have to mean anything... they're just there for eachother forever. in every lifetime. to ME.

(that being said! hamugis and ryomina solos <3 i will always want them to kiss that is for certain)

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ FLUIDITY

tw. dubcon, monsterfucking, explicit size kink, interspecies sex, reader has sex pollen like effects, communication barrier, manipulation, yandere (other parts will contain a lot more explicit dark kinks so please read every individual part's warnings!) wordcount. 8.7k

part 1 of —

a/n. ♡♡ thank you so much rhi for keeping me going through this, idk if i would have pushed through if not for you so ily ily ily and this fic is just indulgence as a period piece and a monsterfucking fic but i hope you give it a chance and like it bc there's moresomes a-coming and this is just the beginning so! yeA i hope you guys enjoy mwuah mwuah mwuah ♡♡

tachibana makoto x fem!reader ( x other characters coming)

Dragonflies glint the prettiest, richest silver you’ve ever seen under the right light. The rosy evening sun casts the entire river into a blooming glow— complete with a soft blanket of fog that rolls along the base of the trees. “Your maiden servants worry about you, you know,” a voice softly calls, and the rustle of shrubbery makes you turn.

You don’t really want to know how long the man’s been guarding you without a word. If it were anyone but one of your father’s most trusted men, you’d probably have some distrust. Instead you only pull your knees to your chest, and continue tossing rocks into the babbling brook.

“Lady, it’ll get dark soon. Your parents don’t want you playing out here so late.”

The small area isn’t open enough to lure any visitors. You’d be fine. Still, you slowly bob your head, waiting for him to step away from the tree edge into the river bank with you. “I had a weird dream, only it didn’t feel like a dream.” The reeds sway in the wind, and you almost let the perfect surrounding whisk away the thought. But the man’s hand drops from his sword, and he gives the faintest of nods. “There was a monster here when I fell asleep— one with a huge mouth packed full of teeth. I saw eyes in the water, and hair so long it covered its whole body.” The tart remnants of your delicately applied makeup wash away as you swallow. “I think- it was a yokai.”

“There’s no yokai here, lady,” he patiently responds, and you turn to him better. This time taking a proper look. If the damp hair tied in a bun is anything to go off of, he was most likely called out of his bath to come out looking for you. You bite your lip, apology lingering on your tongue. But that’s where it stays, as the man continues. “There’s monsters only where people don’t go. You needn’t worry.”

“Are you comforting me?” A slight giggle passes your lips before you can help it. “I know you think I’m lying. You don’t believe anything you don’t see with your own eyes.”

“... It’s not for a lack of trying.” He smooths a hand over his hakama, before resting it back on the pristine handle of his sword. The dragonflies buzz over the low edge of the water, and your feet ache a little from the cold. You’d love to ask to be carried right about now, but spare the poor man the effort. It’s the least you can do. After another few minutes of silence and watching the sun disappear entirely below the tree line, he finally clears his voice. “Come on, lady. We should really get back. You’re precious to your parents. You’re precious to us all. I can’t leave you here.”

This river runs from the high mountains all the way through the small lake that borders the gates of your home; and all the way down the lowlands— and it’s said that on the day of your birth the river flooded, and provided the most bountiful harvest of the last few decades. Even as a child, there was no ignoring the gleeful whispering of the ladies, nor the calculated introductions of sons of poorer lords at every birthday or feast. Some day not too long from now you will get married and spread providence over the land… and there won’t be time for napping by rivers or running off half-dressed into the forest.

Somehow, despite the honor, a small part of you goes cold at that. The water glistens under the last of the light— and you take a long look into the deep of it. The eyes the color of hot coals flash through your mind once more, and you start pulling the fabrics of your dresses aside to put your zori back on. “I know it was a monster- but-” The wind picks up when you turn over your shoulder and smile your most genuine smile. “I wasn’t scared, I think. Perhaps it was friendly.”

The guard is quiet as he watches you get up from the riverbank, and sticks a comfortable distance after helping you gently up onto your feet. You suppose he doesn’t really have the heart, or perhaps confidence, to tell you what he really thinks of your childish talk. The barely-there path back to your home has you growing much more tired— as if weights are tied to your legs. You wish you could stay. The moss crunches softly under your feet, and the dewy air starts to feel a bit cold to the touch. Despite everything, it’s always peaceful here. You cast a brief glance up to the man as he pushes the shrubbery aside. His face has a vacant sort of look, until he catches you looking, and his mouth curls up. “I’ll tell your maiden servants to prepare a purifying ritual for you.”

“Ugh, no, please. Anything but that.”

+

“The koi fish aren’t around anymore, are they, lady?” There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as your maid walks up.

You nod, lift your sleeves to brush your fingers through the water and wait. You got them as a present for your coming of age festivities— the most beautiful blue grey with red fins— much too expensive for your liking but a courting gift nonetheless. You’d been quite fond of the walks out of your houses’ walls because of them. The feed floats sadly on the surface of the inlet, where the clear river water shows no sign at all of the normally curious animals. “It seems like they’ve gone.” What a shame.

Your other maiden scans the area, before rushing to help you up onto your feet as she lowers her head. “Should we ask the master to procure some more? We know feeding the fish brings you much joy.”

The girl helps to fix your sleeves again, before awaiting your call. “No, that’s quite alright. There’s no use replacing a gift.” You cast a wary glance at the bay once more, not quite sure what you’re looking for; but fail to find anything out of the ordinary. A sight furrow comes to your brow, before you hike up your layers of skirts- much to the shock of your two servants- and turn to them with a softer smile. “I would like to be alone for a bit—”

“Lady!” one of them squeaks, but you only laugh.

“I am certain, Hitsu. Tell my father I will be home before tea and dinner, and if you could prepare my bath…” The dark brunette has a question on her tongue, but does nod with the same trained properness that you’ve come to know. “I simply wish to walk along the river, I won’t swim. It’ll be quick, I promise.” It’s not a lie. You have no intention of ruining your beautiful, expensive clothing by going any further than a shallow few steps. But there’s a nagging memory somewhere in the back of your mind— 

You used to have so many dreams, all of them now too faint to recall. Both young ladies give each other a look, before eventually bowing deeply and heading back towards the palace gates.

See, that nagging sense that you’re forgetting something important, something crucial, overcomes you. It’s almost impossible to ignore, and you kick off your shoes to tread carefully along the edge of the deep pool of fresh spring water. The moss is soft under your feet, keeping a tight grip on your embroidered silks.

When you were only a few years old, you used to have these dreams. Dreams of drowning, of ghouls and demons. They grew scarcer the older you got, and eventually even the weekly purification spells and chants became declared unnecessary. But where the memories once sat, now only a blank hole remains in your mind. And however hard you try to remember, you can never quite get there. You make it to the sloped edge of the river not much later, stepping up the small sputtering waterfall and a few round stones between stray bamboo— nearly still water pooling at your feet.

It’s chilly, but not freezing. Something scratches in the back of your skull, deep down. It trickles down your neck, and with a steady heartbeat, it breathes.

But you can’t catch the thought, and the harder you try, the cloudier it becomes— eventually you click your tongue and start walking along the water edge up stream. You should look for your fish. If they swam out of the inlet somehow, maybe they’d be around. They are, much like you are, bred for captivity and wouldn’t survive too long on their own. The sun casts warm spring rays onto your skin, walking in much needed solitude. When you barely realize you’ve spaced out, you’ve already made it to a bend in the river where peach blossoms float on the otherwise pristine surface of the water— and despite your previous care, you drop your dress.

The blossoms swirl in slow circles. And a raindrop lands on your nose. 

Arms, wrapped tight around your chest. Claws. Wide lashless eyes.

Something floods your brain so suddenly that you stumble back a few steps and gasp, sucking in a breath.

It was here. You can’t exactly make out what, but your gut recognizes the trees, the scraggly stones sticking out of the water. Your lungs full of water, and hands all over.

Bumps rise all over your back as you look around, and water seeps up along your tarikubi robe. It’s so quiet, and the stillness starts to trouble with each droplet that comes down. But you breathe. You’ve been here, perhaps more than once, and the aching, pressing itch deep in your head grows more unbearable. When a metallic flicker catches your eyes, you glance down. The rain now starts up more properly, and though the trees provide some shelter, there’s no hiding away from the cold as you walk in just deep enough to bend and pick up a dainty golden chain from between the smooth rocks.

It’s fine like thread, and cold to the touch, and though you can’t quite explain it; something about this finely crafted piece is familiar too. Even through the rain and the chills crawling all the way up your spine, you study the necklace closer. The intricate detail is almost too pristine.

A soft splash on the other side of the river startles you— The sudden scare makes you lose your balance and fall back onto your lower end. Hard. The ache immediately has you whimpering, but instead of worrying about the pain, you slowly try to catch yourself on the rocks; pained enough in the motion that you swear — you see a person diving underneath the water edge. Something pale and fast. You scream, and whatever you saw dashes away before you can think about doing different. The blossoms drift off as you scramble back up; your bruised palms sting, and your heartbeat still hammers hard in your throat when the silence returns.

But the blurry flash of maroon hair and fiery red eyes you caught is long gone.

And much too soon, the clouds that had seemed so fluffy and beautiful earlier turn a dreary grey. You turn on your heel and book it back down the river side on bare feet— still clamping the chain between your fingers.

+

The wick of your lantern splutters with thick oil as you fail to catch sleep. Even with the spring weather it’s chilly, with you remaining wrapped under a thick blanket. You breathe a long sigh, and listen to the crackling of the candle beside your bed in the absence of any other sound. The earlier lecture of your father, your mother, and even the normally quiet and collected matron of the house still lingers on your mind— it’s not like you can blame anyone. You wouldn’t be the first stupid, brazen young girl who happened to drown, and despite the quiet lives most girls like you live, you most likely won’t be the last.

You shouldn’t have been out there. Your servants had been ghastly pale from fright upon seeing the state in which you returned, and even the thorough scrubbing and hours-long bath didn’t do much to alleviate the ache in your lower back.

Despite all that, you’re stuck. Eyes -monstrous, unnatural eyes- appear in the crevices of your mind each time you close your own. No amount of prayer makes the longing fade, and the longer you lay here, the deeper they seem to dig into your flesh. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin once more. When you throw your blankets off you, you go digging in one of the woven baskets for the thickest bland garments you’ve got— tying them around your hips until you’re dressed enough to peer out into the hall. The frigid air current howls through the house when you gather your lantern, some woven socks, and after a brief bit of deliberation; snatch the golden chain from beside your pillow.

The palace is quiet at night, an almost eerie sort of calm that is broken only by the soft ‘pats’ of your feet on the hardwood— with the lanterns barely providing enough light to see a good arms length at a time. The wind pushes you forward, nuzzling deeper into the collar of your clothing until you make it outside. Even under the starry sky, there’s no doubt that this is a stupid idea. No good can come from nightly outings — though you’ve seen girls come and go in similar ways under the cover of night, you’re quite sure their purpose was less out-for-trouble than you are now. But what else can you do?

How could you ever sleep soundly not knowing what’s out there.

With only the flickering reflection on the water, you bow before your home— you’d be back soon enough. You love your clan— and you have no intention of getting caught in long lectures twice in a night. The guards at the gates have no way of noticing you as you slip into the brush and cover the lamp from sight, as cold breaths form clouds before your eyes.

Your legs move almost instinctively until you come upon the peach tree, and the pretty white flowers rain down with the breeze. You place the candle by your feet; and hesitate before taking your own seat on a round rock right by the water edge. You’ve never seen a yokai. Not that you can remember at the very least, but if you would have-you didn’t expect to here. Not the river that blessed your birth, or the one who gives everyone life by way of harvest. Maybe what you saw was a farmer bathing, or a particularly pale, large cod— wouldn’t that make more sense. Isn’t that exactly why you didn’t tell your father?

Because naïvity and silly wonder seems better than monsters lurking among the shrub.

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, a soft splashing in the water sets every hair on your body upright— and your mouth goes dry. It’s so dark. So awfully dark that it’s hard to see even past your own feet, if not for the broken reflection of your candle in the water. You know it's there. You feel it, by the rancid sort of churning in your stomach, the rapid beating of your heart. You swallow the tightness in your throat as best you can. “I’ve come to return your necklace. I didn’t mean to steal it, so I’ve come to give it back.” You wish you could let your eyes grow used to the dark, but without candle light, it’d be so much harder to get back home in one piece.

After just the sounds of the river drag on, you slowly take another breath, and try to bite back the wetness that rises every time you try and fail to find the eyes you know are looking at you. “I don’t wish to harm anyone.” The wind seems to howl harder across the river, and you can’t fight the horrible visions of monsters all around you, just there in the darkness; tightening your hands into fists. “So I wish you would not harm me either. You can have it back.” Your hand shakes when you hold out the chain above the water— not nearly far enough for anything to reach it without coming into your sight. But you’re too frightened to go any deeper, and your lungs tighten.

“Please, I-”

The peaceful spluttering of the water is suddenly disrupted by a much louder splashing, and you freeze up with a sharp gasp, shoulders trembling despite yourself. You don’t dare move any more than that— only after a minute or so of silence, you continue. “Hello? Don’t you want your necklace back?”

The reeds shake in the wind, and one of the blossoms brushes along your cheek as it falls into your crouched lap. Your breathing is tense enough to almost hide the little mumble that reaches back. It’s soft, sweet like dripping honey, and makes your whole spine tingle. “We want.”

If you had any less sense, you’d probably run right back home. But the idea of moving is too terrifying, so you’re stuck rooted in place as you take a breath. The voice sounds young enough, but the Japanese is distinctly older than your own dialect, rolling off the tongue with a vague foreign lilt— and it takes your frightened brain a little longer than you want to process that the voice isn’t simply human. When another little splash sounds a bit closer, you pull your outstretched hand back to your chest. “Can you see me?” Your own voice wavers when trying to make out any shape in the river. Alas, it’s just so dark that any further effort hurts your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’ve come to give back your necklace. I got scared and took it, I’m sorry. I mean no harm-”

“He told.” The voice is unbearably clear. Almost like it’s being spoken directly into your head, even though it’s just a mere whisper among the rippling water. It’s distracting, and feels ice cold between your ears.

“Who’s he?” you try, biting your lip. The river seems to stare back at you, and you can’t do anything but hope you aren’t making some horrible mistake. Are you supposed to talk to the monsters that go bump in the night? “I- I don’t know where you are, I can’t see you.” Despite the soft, gentle nature of the voice, your heart patters wildly, unable to let go of your fear when there’s another closer splash. You must only be a dozen feet away from each other now, and still you can’t even see past the water at your toes. The voice stays quiet for a while.

“You don’t see is … better.”

You don’t respond for even longer. But for whatever reason, you almost want to agree. Not seeing, he almost sounds like a childhood friend of yours. The soft, honeyed words aren’t so frightening when you can’t see what they’re being spoken by; and you gather your last bit of courage to softly open your palm out again towards the night. “I’ll throw it over to you. Can you catch it?”

“No ‘throw’.” The -whatever- struggles with the word as he says it, before going quiet. You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you to throw it, or he simply doesn’t understand— so you just bite your lip and wait for any further comments that eventually do follow. “You put paw- h-hand.” Then, after another breath, “Come.” With a slight tremble in your voice, you breathe out a little laugh. You are really being asked to be braver than any girl with sense would— dragging your lantern closer over the pebbles until it’s right by your feet. Cursing yourself, you blink back nervous tears, trembling as you hike up the edge of your skirts, just the tiniest bit, and place only one foot into the shallowest part of the river for stability.

Your hand drops halfway outstretched, and you watch the flame where she glints back on the chain.

More splashing makes way for a more disturbing sound once it surfaces, of a body dragging over the shallow of the river towards you, scraping along the blunt stones— and you almost dart away when the sound comes close enough to reach. But your fingertips are almost frozen solid when another hand comes ever faintly into view, and wetness drops into your palm. To call it a hand is gracious, you decide. There’s longer digits, clawed, and webbed between each bony finger, and the wet glossy skin is more curved spike than thumb. The paw slides carefully along your hand, swiping up the chain as it goes— and leaves a cold coating all over your palm that you snatch back too quickly.

It’s unbearable to stay so close to something and not see it now, and you quickly hurry back to the safety of your rock as the same shuffling goes back to the water. Your heartbeat’s in your throat, and you can’t find any polite words to offer it until the yokai speaks again.

“Rin present, with- no, f-for you. You give present back, make happy. I am thank you.” You’re welcome, you think, but you barely manage to paint on a little smile before wringing your hands together and picking your lantern back up for safekeeping.

“I’m heading home now. If I’m not back soon my guards will find out.” It doesn’t feel entirely appropriate to thank it for not killing you when it had ample chance to, so you stay quiet. But there’s also a sense of gratitude that washes over you. Soon you’ll be back in bed like all of this was a dream. That seems right. That seems good. Your tongue lingers on your words. “You … What's your name?” The river bank feels much safer now you’re back on solid ground, and you can see the peach blossoms you almost slipped on.

There’s another long pause, where you almost make a run for it back all the way home, before the voice sounds out again from the dark— sugary sweet in its tone.

“Makoto.”

+

You’re pretty sure you should be questioning your own sanity. Everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to, and after the few restless nights you’ve had, you should be staying as far away as you can. But curiosity, mixed with a slight sense of obligation, has you walking the river bank like a little droplet flowing back to the sea. The quiet, scruffy man following behind doesn’t say much… never does, and you can’t say you dislike it. But you feel the glances your way, distracting you. Soon you find yourself clearing your voice. “You’re wondering why I’m walking this same path again?”

The older man only hesitates for a moment. “No, lady.”

“Sure you are. I would wonder if I were you.” There’s a faint smile that makes its way up, glancing out over the babbling brook to your left as grass tickles your ankles. “Not too long now and I’ll be engaged…” The peach blossoms above are almost done blooming— and you’ve never known your father to be an indecisive man. “Walking gives me a little break from all the fussing attendants, and father's advisors. Which is why it’d be even better if I were alone-”

It doesn’t take much pushback at all for the man to stop in place and give you a little look, resting his hand on the handle of his sword. “Lady.”

“Oh, please Azuma-san, we’ve had this same conversation for years.”

“I am not to leave you unprotected-”

You turn on your heel to face him. “I want to swim.” The stubborn frown on his face doesn’t move an inch, as your eyes go a little more puppy-esque. You have to know, so you have to lie. It doesn’t bring you joy either, but you might go insane if you have to live with questions for the next twenty years barred in some fancy prison of your future husband’s making. “-Swim right here. Without my very expensive clothing getting ruined.” Still that stone wall refuses to budge, and you throw your last bit of dignity into the ring. If this was anyone else you’d never hear the end of your unrefined words. “So I am going to get undressed.”

“—Ag-lright, just quiet. Your servants hear you and I’ll be lynched in the square.” He sighs deeply, rubbing his hand over his scruff, then gives a little bow. He wants nothing more than to roll his eyes when you offer back a self-satisfied grin, but instead takes a few steps the way you came with a stern look. “I’ll ask one of your maiden servants to make her way over here.”

“Don’t tell her to hurry!” you chant back, only taking off the heaviest layer of clothing once he’s out of sight. You lay it safe out of reach, before kicking off your shoes and socks and waddling towards the big stones again. Sure enough, the river here is a lot deeper than it looks. There’s a ledge in the pool that’s dark enough for almost any kind of monster to hide. This at least means your midnight escape wasn’t a total delusion. The peaceful sway of water grass settles when you dip your toes in the water, and wonder. There’s only a brief few minutes where you sit to think, before a slight thrashing once again captures your attention.

Only when you look up, the river is still, safe for a few tiny fish jumping out of the water. You get up, and tie your skirts up higher to inspect. A large maroon shape darts away into the darkness before you can take a good look, splashing droplets all over the river bank— and you hold your breath. You aren’t crazy. That definitely was much larger than any fish you’ve ever seen, and such a brilliant color that nothing but yokai could possess it. Brighter than all the finest silks, shimmering like a mirror. You wait for what could be a few seconds or an hour, before… someone- something else starts coming up from the darkness.

The olive-golden glitter rises so slow you have no choice but to take in another breath, but luckily don’t scare it away. His light chestnut hair is chopped short-ish, and a strangely human face— with cloudy black eyes, and green gashes either side of his neck— where he hovers below the water surface. It’s not human though. The eyes are big, round and deer-like, nose flatter, and his skin seems almost pearlescent. You don’t have the ability to think if you’re brave or just frozen solid. But whatever the case, the humanesque monster seems to stare for quite a while before judging it safe enough to approach.

It’s only then that you get to see the full extent of his body, scaled from ribs down, with a snake-like bottom half that’s at least longer than your entire body, and ending in a beautiful fish-like tail that feathers out in glittering threads. “Oh…” you breathe, and your arms wrap around yourself for protection, but you still don’t move further. Can’t, more like.

The half-man is close enough -and real enough- to feel a bit nauseating. Close enough to set every hair on your body on end and have your heartbeat a wild patter. But it’s the voice that really makes you feel frigid, gulping for air when that soothing tone comes out of a monstrous mouth. Whatever you had expected to see… wasn’t this. You can’t make out if the near-resemblance is comforting, or more frightening. You shiver at the black tongue, against porcelain white teeth.

“You come back.”

Your nod is hesitant, and you fidget with your jewelry in an attempt to calm your nerves. “I- wanted to see who I’d been talking to, that night. I haven’t slept well since then.”

He hoists himself a little further out of the water onto both hands, clawed and boney. “That was you, right? Makoto?” The brunet only gives a single nod of response, and doesn’t take his dark eyes off you for a second. And you want to laugh, though it isn’t too funny. The scene is just so absurd that you have nothing else to do, but laugh. “Isn’t this weird, talking to each other? How come yokai speak Japanese?” your voice comes, and you only hear how childish you sound when it seems to hang over the river without answer.

Out of all the questions you can ask, that’s what is most important to you? Makoto is gracious as he scoots a little closer once again, scraping his long, heavily muscled tail up over the pebbles and stones. “I listen very many year. Always listen, listen woman, listen warrior, listen you.” He blinks, and blondish lashes are the only normality you have staring back at him. “All can’t speak like me. I -hmm, pras-”

“Practice?” you try, and he clearly agrees when his tail pats happily on the ground. When you smile, he grins back wide and kind, his teeth are much sharper than yours. There’s something so human about the look, that you feel your muscles unwind a little further. You suppose, if he wasn’t so strange looking, with the wrong shades and fins here and there; he’d be quite handsome. He’d go over well with the maiden servants in the clan, too. “Many years, huh? Then- How old are you?”

“Hmmm- old. Very…” He doesn’t seem it, though. You avert your eyes when the water flicks over your feet, slowly dropping your shoes to the side. When you look back, he’s gotten closer yet, and is reaching out his hand towards the edge of the water, towards you. Despite your hesitation, and slight disgust— scaly and seemingly frost bitten pale lips, and unnatural greenish marks along his neck that flare out and in— there’s something that makes you want to follow.

A call, or instinct, to glide into the water and feel it embrace you. “You want come in?” he prompts, softly, and you do. You aren’t much of a swimmer even in high summer, and yet. You find yourself closing the distance and reaching out for his hand, letting your fingertips glide along as you get up to your knees into the water, and then get pulled along further step by unsure step. “Good, come.”

“Ah- it’s cold!” you squeak, but Makoto’s fingers wrap around your hand to support you even when you get almost up to your chest into the river, water crawling up your clothing and making your chest feel tight. “Sh- it's so cold.”

“Water not cold. You warm.” Only when he comes up in front of you do you truly notice how much bigger he is. His hands dwarf yours, and even though you’re higher up, his tail is curved aside to fit on the ground so he stares down at you— covering the sun from your view. He towers over any man you’ve ever seen, and his human-esque top half is still much broader than most. Like a hard plane of muscle, marked with thousands of golden freckles that shift in color the longer you look.

Shivers climb up your legs, and the water seeps your energy out of you. Wrapping your free arm around yourself, you rub some heat into your skin. Those pale lashes flutter as he gives you a half lidded glance, and the freckles that also go across his cheeks color a little more amber. “Lady is … cute.” Large hands suddenly slide along your sides up, before dragging over your shoulders and slowly taking your clothing with it, removing one of a few layers as he leans in. “Here, better without.”

“Oh. No- I don’t- think-”

“Shhh. Better, I know,” he seems to get closer, even though you are too busy staring back into the darkness of his eyes to really notice; and let him untie the robes enough to toss it towards the water edge. Then he pauses, and gets up higher onto his coiled tail to pull another layer off and throw it. Until you’re left standing in only your flimsier linen undergarb, and you’re suddenly much too aware of how peaked your nipples are against the scratchy fabric. But his hands slide up along your thighs to start peeling that off too, when you grab for him and shake your head.

Makoto insists. “No cold when not -this.” His hands keep going up even with your pressure on them.

Having a night encounter with a man is one thing, but you don’t know how you’d ever explain this if someone saw. You can’t dart away in a flash and escape the consequences. You have to go home after this. “I need my clothes to go back—” you quickly beg, ignoring the soft pads of his fingers along your upper thighs, “and if people see- Makoto, please.” Your whole body aches with the cold, and though the touch feels nice, it doesn’t seem right. Your nakedness isn’t a simple thing, even if his is.

“Clothes heavy. Water don’t like clothes.” He turns you around and you lose your footing on the stable flooring, arms quickly clinging onto his wide shoulders for support— it does make his point. Your clothes are incredibly heavy soaked, and pull down on you as strong arms ever so slowly wrap around your waist; nose only a few inches from yours. You can’t help it, your face gets hot. Cheeks, ears, nose- everything starts getting a distracting warm glow that you do your best to ignore, pulling your lip between your teeth. Even so, he seems to look down at you with intrigue, water reflecting in the black of his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very close…” you confess, and also try to release some of the tightness of your embrace— but amusement only brings him closer. He tilts his head, before leaning in until your foreheads meet, and the cooler skin consumes you. “Makoto-sama-”

“Human kiss, hm?” He’s so close, and his mouth is right there -and though you have no clue why, you really want to. The thought is almost as real as the air you breathe, feeling his hands roam all over your body through the soaked linen. Your voice doesn’t make it out when you nod, but he still lifts you into his chest, and your fingertips dig into his shoulders instinctively. “Show me how to kiss? You little one -hmm- good- fit.” You can’t help it, in place of physical heat there’s a sort of aching fire that spreads through your limbs the longer you stay close— and once you start you can’t stop.

Your mouth meets his first, lips moving with yours as his arms squeeze tighter; but when your tongue brushes his lips and meets his, he makes a noise. A low sort of purring that rattles his chest, and has him leaning in harder, trying to bury you into his body as your tongues brush and you suck and moan. His taste is mild but his tongue is heavy, and much longer than yours when it slips further into your mouth. Much longer, bigger, and the wetness soon has you feeling like you can’t breathe.

You pull back with a gasp, staring at the way his long tongue brushes along those sharp teeth before he leans in more. “Again.” You try to make some separation between your two bodies, but clearly Makoto doesn’t care for it when he clamps his hand down around your hip and kisses you more, melting to you as his tongue brushes against yours. He kisses like you’re the first and last thing he’s tasted, even when you moan a little whimper at the lack of air. His cold skin prickles against yours, grinding his waist against you slowly as your head pounds. Still, it feels good.

You don’t ever want to leave— and it’s this exact feeling that has you pulling back for air. You must be out of your mind. He stares with a blown out sort of hunger when you say his name again, and run your fingers along his shoulders up a little. “I’m going to get in trouble if someone finds me here- and- it’s not like we can—” Your cheeks get even hotter when you try to say the words, not even sure if he’d understand. Does a yokai’s understanding include human nighttimes? When he shows no intention of putting you down, you bury your face into his chest, feeling even smaller than before.

Though his skin is cold to the touch, there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two, almost impossible to ignore— and the way you’re positioned against him, large arms caging you against his waist that pushes into you— doesn’t help anything. You can feel yourself get more slick each time you move your legs. He seems to chuckle when you groan- and as if sensing your train of thought, he rubs his nose along your ear and down the sensitive of your neck with a lower voice. “I want see. Human body so little. Want see it.”

That’s the tipping point. Every fiber in your being aches to obey, to let yourself get touched, seen, taken by him— and your mouth drops open a sliver as you struggle to find words. Your feet can’t reach the bottom here, and Makoto seems content to keep rubbing against you in a slow sea-saw motion that makes your center feel entirely hot. And eventually you crack. Blinking up at him, you breathe a faint “okay”, and let him turn you around. His hands are quick in their exploration, sliding under the last layer up your thighs, squeezing every few inches as he goes up. When he gets to your center, there’s a little flutter of his eyes, before those digits slide in and brush over your pussy, rubbing just soft enough to leave you wanting. “Warm,” he breathes, and then pulls you a little closer. “You do me too.”

As he pushes your last layer of clothing open fully and starts sliding it off your shoulders, you allow yourself just a little curiosity. He’s handsome, and he’s close, and you just feel so needy. Your breathing is still short against his chest, but your numb fingers glide down his sides with purpose as the muscles flex under your touch. His chest rumbles when you whine at the prodding and circling of his fingers around your dripping pussy, and you glide your hands down to his tail. The touch feels a little coarse, but he’s warmer there, and when you rub your palm over the area he’d been grinding into your waist, your fingers feel a softer, spongey slit. Makoto hisses when you rub a finger up and down, and you feel more heat burn onto your face. “Here?”

The question is answered when your finger slips in and is all hot, and something bumps you. But he picks you up and with one swift dash, lays you down on the river bank to get up between your legs. You need to open wide to allow him to fit, and can only whine out his name when the weight of his body over yours pushes you into the cold stones. He licks the air a few times, before grunting. You wish you could do anything other than just flush and look away when his hands descend onto your tits and start touching and rubbing, and the pressure leaves you all exposed. But it doesn’t take long for his attention to shift back to between your legs, and now with a better angle, he sinks down to nose below your navel. “Hmn-”

The purring is paired with a flaring of the gashes on his neck, and his eyes roll back. When his hands spread your legs up as wide as you can go, he nuzzles into you, and that long black tongue peeks out to lick slowly. You can’t help it, you moan. Loudly. It feels like a million pinpricks are traveling your body, as the very long, heavy tongue drags a long strip up your center, and then the tip of it laps at the wetness coating your hole— that quickly gets pushed open further with each sloppy lick. His tongue pushes inside you as he sucks and the feeling of something so hot and so- squirmy makes you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s too strange, but you can’t pull back.

Your hands even reach for his head to tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, your back curling from the floor. You’re drenched- no longer just water as your pussy clenches around his tongue that he forces in to lick places you’ve never been licked. Makoto wraps an arm around your thigh to pull it over his shoulder when you curl and wiggle against him- you can’t help it, it feels so good. Everything’s so sensitive, like your entire body’s been doused into hot water and you’re drowning— only difference is, you’re actively longing for more.

It’s better than any drink-induced daze, late night tussle with a stable boy. It’s even better than your own touch and mind, because he’s just so big and you’re so full, so hot. Your hips grind against his face when he sucks again, and his nose brushes your most sensitive area— and try not to let the water into your mouth when you yerk again. “Ah, ahg, Makoto-sama. I can’t- I can’t handle this much, please. Oh dear gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Ah-ughhh, f- ah, please -keep going.”

Your lower belly is wound so tight, and even the sound of his breathing against you feels good. You could melt into the floor with how much slick is coating your insides, dripping out of you around the suction on your cunt. And Makoto doesn’t have any intention of moving. Your mind aches— you want more. You want to wrap your entire body around him and come apart— as his large hands squeeze your thighs tight and wrap them around his head like he can’t get deep enough.

The sloppy, wet sounds of his face burying between your legs to stuff you full of tongue, licking and sucking at your sensitive pussy. It has your muscles so tight as you roll your hips against him, and you can’t stop shaking. “Oh, I’m g-gonna cum— I can’t! I can’t. It feels so- gud. Ah, ahh. What is happening?” When your fingers clench in his hair, he lets out a long, animalistic groan as he glances back up. Still his tongue isn’t fully inside you. “I can’t- Makoto, I can’t!” Even though he’s reaching further than fingers can, he’s still able to fold the deft black muscle over your clit and slot his lips around it to suck. Hard.

And your body can’t handle any more. While his heartbeat pulses through his tongue against your clit, everything goes white, your muscles clenching so hard it hurts. And your heart beats so hard it feels like it stops altogether. If you make any noise at all, you can’t hear yourself over the pounding in your head, rattling your body so hard that nothing except you and him exist. Your eyes are shut until you’re aware of how he grunts against you and pinpricks get too unbearable. But he doesn’t stop, lifting your body to his face and allowing you to ride out your orgasm against him for what feels like forever.

When you feel like you can hear yourself breathe again, you unwrap your legs from around his head. “I thought my heart was going to explode. If Hitsu knew…”

Your eyes are teary when they flutter open against the light, and the black abysses that stare back are barely narrowed slits. Dipping his gills into water briefly before getting up above you again, Makoto seems different. There’s something predatory that wasn’t there before. You can’t help but go quiet. As his hands drag your body down a few inches, you swallow. “Are you okay? Sorry. I feel like I should thank you— I haven’t come that hard, ever. I don’t know about yokai but I don’t think I could feel that good.” His muscular body covers most of the river from your view, but you find it almost too hard to look at him. You’re still hot; but your skin feels cold.

His fingers slide down along your side when he lets out a little groan. “Yokai don’t do this.” Then he goes to brush his face and mouth along your throat, and you shiver a little at the feeling. “So pretty. Warm. I like warm. Stay with me?” You let him grind himself on top of you and embrace him the best you can, only fitting around the narrow of his waist, but after just a second you yerk up. Makoto pulls his head back when he notices, and you get another brush against your slit that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. Where the slit sat before, a dick has emerged- and your mouth drops open a little. The thing is vaguely dick shaped, but has spurs at the base like an anchor, is more pointed at the tip; and it also pulses with each breath.

“Pretty warm body, good. Smell good too.”

You can’t help but swear when you avert your eyes, and instead wrap your arms back around his neck. “Oh, fuck.” Surely, this is where you’d draw the line. Right? But the touching of that against you doesn’t make your body react the way you think it should. The prodding along your inner thighs just leaves you feeling empty, like you’d like to start all over again. Makoto grunts out a little breath when your tits brush his chest, before staring down at you.

After a few seconds of studying your face, and probably the heat that’s flooding your features, he licks his lips. “Human men have… hm-”

“Yes,” you quickly say. He smacks his lips and grinds against you again. “They uhm- put it inside.” If the answer shocks him, he certainly doesn’t show it— looking like he’s barely holding back from crashing his face back to yours and turning you over to fuck you like the begging whore you feel like. The longer he just keeps his solid body against yours, the harder it is to ignore yourself getting wet again against the pulsing of his cock. The purring, clicking noise coming from him feels nice, and you pull at him. “You’re not done yet, right? I can do more.”

You angle your hips a little, and try not to sound so desperate when looking up at him for a kiss. “Please- put it inside me. I- I want to feel you.” Your hands slide over the rougher scales down between you two to reach for him, and hesitate a little when his cock is heavy and covered in some sort of slime; and it seems to follow your touch. But you’re too far past embarrassment to truly care, and Makoto groans when you wrap your fingers around him to squeeze softly. “I need you.” You really don’t know what’s wrong with you. You feel like your body’s being torn apart. You want to be filled, fucked full of him, and get pumped round of his kids— all things that you shouldn’t be thinking about. You didn’t with any men you’ve been with. You can’t.

Even though you know you’re being ludicrous, when he goes in for a kiss, you cling onto him hard; digging your nails into his back. You don’t even know if he could fit. His cock is proportionate to him- but it’s big and long and girthy enough to put any man to shame. You should care. You should care that you could regret being filled up to your breaking point, but you’re just so, so desperate. You might die if he doesn’t fuck you. You can feel it. “Please, please, please—”

—You slide a few feet across the floor, angry thrashing scaring you up into a flounder as you breathe in deeply. Makoto’s dragged off of you and down before you can even blink, water splashing everywhere; and you struggle back to the riverbank with wide eyes. Now you’re no longer side by side with another person- no, creature- you suddenly feel the entire ache of the cold water. The shortness of breath, the numbness of your lips and hands and feet. You feel the painful sting of your back where you’ve been sliced by a dozen sharp rocks, struggling to keep your head above water. And you feel the soreness between your legs of having been filled by something too big.

When you get over the pure shock, you notice the struggling has stopped, and you notice your creature’s golden shape next to someone else. They glitter and glint even in the low light of the afternoon, and you furrow your brows. The second shape only gets clearer when the light shines through the water and colors the flickers a blinding maroon. Your tongue feels cold.

Your arms wrap over your chest and cover up the best you can when Makoto surfaces again and gives you a kind smile, but you take a slight step back. His long, pale lashes flutter when he reaches out a hand. “Sorry. Rin don’t want to bleed you.” Your back and your painful scrapes are the lesser of your worries though. Whatever spell you were under, you’ve been snapped out of. You feel entirely strange- enough to have hot tears welling up along your waterline. What the hell have you been dragged into? You were going to… do things with some monster you didn’t know existed until today. Your brain screams and pounds, and your stomach is entirely flipped. But the brunet softly continues. “He don’t like I take you. Can you come here?”

“No.” Your hair now sticks to your neck and chest, and every second you’re out of the water, is one where the feeling comes back to your limbs. Your arms are so heavy as you keep them up. “There’s more of you?” You don’t know what you expected, really. Maybe you should have known. Maybe you should have questioned. But how could you have truly known?

“Yes.” he answers after a beat, and swims up a little closer with a frightening ease. “Shhh, okay. He will come. You stay.” You try to tell him not to, but he dips below the water surface before you get the chance to ask him not to, splashing water all over as he does— and you don’t know what else to do but to stare at the small bubbles that pop as peach blossoms wash over your feet. Before too long, the reddish shape surfaces alongside Makoto. He lingers in the deep of the river however; fiery eyes zeroing in on you without blinking at all. He stays submerged from the nose down, and you can’t help but feel too watched. 

Your heartbeat doesn’t calm when the brunet swims up closer, and you take a little breath. “Who’s that?”

“Rin,” Makoto softly, sweetly answers, as if he was expecting the question all along. He smiles wide like a saint, and you have to ignore the voice in the back of your head that tells you to get back in the water. His hand reaches out though, and you almost want to. Almost. Your arms and back break out in goosebumps. Then Makoto looks back at the other yokai, and gives you a smiley once-over. It takes you a little too long to recognize something else that plays over his features though. A strange sort of knowing, like he’s seeing right through you. “You Rin’s mate.”

You don’t know why you don’t get up and run.

“Come back in?”

Only that the voice in the back of your head gets more unbearable. You wrap your hands over your ears, and try to hang on.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[tteodoroki]

the dragon’s devotion [zhongli x creator!reader]

cw: obsessive themes, cult themes, religious themes, slight yandere themes I guess, not beta read we die like Makoto

notes: I just love the concept of Zhongli being the Creator’s most devoted follower. Idk why but it gives Gomez Addams in an unhealthy way tbh.

There is an old tale in Liyue, one that parents pass down to their children. It’s a story of love, of a being that tamed a wild beast. One where a proud dragon kneeled before his own God and in return, found love.

The Dragon’s Devotion.

That’s what the Liyue citizens called it, and it’s the name of the play that is put on every year during the Lantern Rite festival. Songs can be heard of this tale from Mt. Aozang all the way to Liyue Harbor, a true testament of the adoration and reverence that blossomed between two ancient beings. It started years before the Archon War, before the seven nations were even created. Morax, the God of Geo, and the [Y/N], the Divine Creator. In his youth, he was arrogant and insatiable, hungry for war and bloodshed. Until you descended Teyvat one day, where the Lord of Geo found you in what is now known as Luhua Pool, bathing in the crystal clear waters. It is said that your beauty and divinity brought him to his knees, where the proud God worshipped you and begged for your forgiveness for his arrogance and brash ways. Being the Divine Creator, you simply smiled and told him that you cherished and loved him. A bond was formed that day, one that soothed the beast inside the young God.

That’s the story that the public knows, anyway. You, however, are familiar with a much different, a more twisted story.

The basis of the story that today’s Liyue citizens are most familiar with is true to some extent. You did meet Morax in Luhua Pool, and he did beg for forgiveness. But you didn’t fall in love with him, at least not in the way everyone believes. That’s the version that the mortals of Teyvat like to believe in. Morax, one of the eldest and strongest Archons to exist. A proud man with an unshakeable faith, has been your most devoted follower ever since he took his first breath in Teyvat. He held you close to his heart. Everything he did, was to honor you. Even the actions he took during the Archon War, in his mind it was all done in your name. Every life taken and drop of blood spilled was for you, his beloved. His Creator.

“My Morax,” You whisper softly, your hand reaching forward to gently caress the Archon’s face. Morax knelt before you, his polearm laying at your feet. It reeked of death, the gold blade stained with the blood of your people. Your heart ached, mourning the countless lives that were lost. “What have you done?” Your voice trembles, eyes full of sorrow. Morax brings his gaze to look at you, his heart shattering at the look in your eyes. Was this not what you wanted? To be worshipped as you rightfully deserved? To be honored?

“This was all for you, my love.” He said, his golden eyes looking up at you with complete adoration. But you can see past that. In his eyes, you can see his true feelings. It’s not reverence or adoration or even love; it’s an obsession. In your naivety, you failed to see the truth in the beginning of your relationship, his growing obsession. The spark in his eyes was no longer there, in its place was a roaring fire that could not be quelled.

“Your obsession is clouding your judgement.” You say, moving your hand from his face. Morax watches your every movement with bated breath. Would you punish him for his transgressions? He will gladly take whatever you decided to do to him. In his mind, he deserved it for upsetting you. You pick up the polearm from the ground, the weight heavy and unfamiliar in your hands. You made this for him, your beloved Morax. It was supposed to protect the mortals of Teyvat, not destroy them. What was supposed to be a symbol of strength was soaked in the blood of your people.

“Punish me however you see fit, my love.” Morax says, golden hues watching you carefully as you look over the weapon you so carefully crafted him. Would you impale him with his own weapon? A fitting punishment, truly.

“No matter what you do, I could never harm you, my dear Morax.” You smile sadly, dropping the polearm to the ground. There was an ache in your chest, something akin to loss and grief. But at the root of it was anger. Not at Morax or any of the other Gods, but at yourself. This could have all been avoided if you didn’t descend to Teyvat. You would never have awoken this darkness inside of your beloved Morax if you stayed out of the mortal world.

“I fear that I have spent too much time here, in Teyvat.” You say, turning your back to the God of Geo in favor of gazing at the scenery below you. Beautiful glazed lilies bloomed around your feet, and you could faintly hear the rush of a nearby stream. You would miss this, you would miss your creations.

“What are you saying, my love?” There was an edge to Morax’s voice, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he sounded almost broken. The irony, really. The great Morax, the God of War, crumbling before you at the mere thought of you no longer gracing him with your presence.

“My time on Teyvat has come to an end. I have spent too much time in the mortal world.” You say, your voice as soft as the petals of the glazed lilies in front of you. You would miss the pleasures of gathering silk flowers and violet grass. Maybe in a few millennia you would visit again, and hopefully all of this could be forgotten.

“My love, please, don’t.” Morax pleads. He’s now standing at his full height, but compared to you he feels minuscule and insignificant. He tenderly grasps your hand with his, moving so he’s standing directly in front of you. His golden eyes, the ones that shine like the brightest cor lapis, stare at you in desperation. It’s a silent plea, begging you to stay in Teyvat, to stay with him.

You look at Morax, giving him a soft yet sad smile. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him, but you knew if you stayed with him, his obsession, his darkness would only consume him even more. If you stayed, you would be the cause of his destruction, and you couldn’t bear to watch your dear Morax destroy himself.

“Whatever it is you wish for, I swear to Celestia I will make it happen. I swear I will see it done, just please, stay with me.” There’s a desperation in his voice, panic, almost. Despite the urge that you have to wrap your arms around your beloved Morax, you hold strong. You have made up your mind, and you will leave the mortal world once more.

“My dear Morax, this is the one thing that you cannot give me.” You say, your fingers reaching out to cup his face one last time. He leans into your touch, golden eyes full of sadness.

“I will descend to Teyvat in the future if Celestia allows it. But for now, I just have but one request.”

“Anything.”

“Use your power to guide the mortals. No more bloodshed, I do not think my heart can take anymore.” You sigh, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“As you wish.” He nods. You give Morax a soft smile before leaning forward and kissing your beloved Morax once more. As painful as it was to leave, you knew you had to. You weren’t all knowing, and you didn’t have the gift of foresight, but you could sense that if you stayed, something sinister would consume your beloved Morax. In the end, this was for his safety and well-being just as it was for the rest of the people of Teyvat.

But little did you forget the main characteristic of a dragon; they never let go of what’s theirs.

[dulcibella-dreams]

Butterfly Nocturne.

⊹ ࣪ ˖༊·˚ Makoto Yuki/ Minato Arisato x GN reader

All you knew, is that you could stand no longer.

In the heights of Tartarus, your inner voice screamed in defiance. One enemy, but terribly imposing. The very air seemed to thicken around you, laden with ancient malevolence.

Your body became a paradox—heavy yet weightless, burning yet freezing. You teetered on the precipice of collapse, too weary, too pained to carry out a coherent thought. Your eyes glazed over, akin to a black veil enshrouding your vision. The cacophony of battle faded, replaced by the ringing of your ears. Sweat clung to your skin, cold and slick, as the shadow’s dark hand bore down upon you. Inescapable.

And then, a flash of pain seized you. You crumbled to the ground, your weapon clattering loudly before darkness stole you away.

Amidst the chaos, your name echoed—a chorus of fear. All but one voice. Makoto remained silent, dread pooling within him like ink. A quiet panic gripped his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

His palms slick with sweat, grip on his sword unyielding, Makoto delivered a swift, decisive strike, obliterating the shadow. The blade sang through the air, severing the malevolence that threatened to consume you once and for all.

Discarding his sword, he rushed to your side, kneeling. The others quickly stepped aside, their gazes filled with shock and concern. To witness Makoto—usually stoic, detached and with a tendency for apathy—act with such fervor was rare. His fingers found your pulse, and the relief that washed over him was almost blinding. Your vitality thrummed against his skin, a fragile lifeline.

His voice, steady and commanding, ordered healing for you. Cradling you in his arms, he held one of your icy hands. His racing heartbeat slowed as he felt the faint tremors of your breath normalize. His fingers brushed your forehead tenderly, whispering your name. He hadn’t lost you, after all. Around you, a collective sigh of relief echoed. They all cared, but none as deeply as Makoto.

That night’s exploration came to an abrupt end.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, your mind was a tempest—a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts and fragmented memories. It felt surreal, like a dream mistaken for reality. As the fog lifted, details emerged—a rhythmic swaying, gravel crunching underfoot, distant voices. You were no longer in Tartarus. In fact, the dark hour itself seems to have ended. All there was to see was your typical moon, in its dark canvas. No neon green cast to be seen.

Despite the healing, your body still bore the marks of battle: a throbbing shoulder, a swollen lip, bruises like morbid freckles. You felt icy, your head crafted from lead. Painfully, your head shifted slightly. Blue eyes. Long, blue hair. Makoto. His footsteps rocked you, cradling you against his chest as if you were a fragile secret. He was....carrying you.

“Makoto,” you murmured, and his gaze met yours. “I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice unwavering as usual.

The journey back to the dorm unfolded in silence. The others walked ahead, granting Makoto a solitary moment with you. The comfort of his arms—the sheer luxury of it—was something you might never experience again. So you nestled closer, inhaling the sweet, warm scent clinging to his clothes. Everything from his silk hair, his soft-spoken tone and his honeyed scent had you folding.

Your mind wandered further—the warmth of his hands cupping your face, his lips gently claiming yours. When you were this close, how could you not allow such thoughts?

Your gaze lifted, fingers brushing back his unruly bangs. The soft sound that escaped him sent a flutter through your heart. “Makoto…?” His eyes met yours, and your affectionate gesture painted your cheeks with a delicate blush. “Mh?” His voice was a low murmur, and you took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For looking out for me. I really do appreciate it.” The words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

“It’s nothing,” Makoto replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He wasn’t unkind—just blunt, with a disinclination to flower his words. But there was something in his eyes, a vulnerability he couldn’t mask. You smiled to yourself.

Driven by an unknown force, your fingertips traced his jawline. You cupped half of his face, your touch gentle yet insistent. You held it there for a second, and his eyes once more wandered to yours. And then, before you could overthink, you pressed your lips to his cheek—the kiss tender and fleeting.

His expression remained mostly unchanged, save for slightly parted lips, and the pink blush staining his face. You became timid as the impulse faded, a mix of regret and anticipation taking hold.

Needless to say…

You weren't disappointed when you received a soft kiss on your lips in return.

[imaginehappyhavoc]

Heya! Could i ask for some headcanons of the thh boys with an ultimate crafter reader that likes making little trinkets for them? -🔥

A/N: Naww Crow!Reader!! (◠‿◠✿)

Pairing: thh boys x Reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: N/A

Makoto Naegi:

♡ Oh, this makes him SO HAPPY.

♡ He’s the type to love absolutely anything homemade. Art, cooking, you name it.

♡ It’s honestly comedic how fast his face lights up when you say “I made something for you.”

♡ Just immediately the brightest smile he can manage, and all but running to see what it is this time.

♡ Sometimes he’ll even make you things in return! Though, it normally doesn’t come out as good as he’d like. His damned luck cycle gets in the way.

♡ He keeps everything you make him, no matter how much space it takes up.

Byakuya Togami (platonic):

♡ No one’s… ever done that for him before.

♡ He was raised to recognize an item’s worth by its price tag. Mainly because no one in his life actually cared enough to take time out of their day and make something for him.

♡ He’s honestly flabbergasted every time you do this tbh.

♡ He’ll just hold whatever you made in his hands, staring at it for a just a bit too long. It’s the only time you’ll ever see him speechless.

♡ You tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to keep it. He says he won’t.

♡ He does.

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

♡ Did you mean: Ultimate Hype Man?

♡ He’ll get a gift from you and he’s bolting to the common room of the dorms to show it off to everyone.

♡ Always something along the lines of “look at what my SUPER amazing, SUPER talented partner MADE for me!”

♡ He loves anything you have to give him, obviously, but especially if he doesn’t know what the fuck it is.

♡ The things he treasures most in the world are useless lil trinkets that look funky and cool. So if you like metalworking, he might marry you on the spot.

Leon Kuwata:

♡ He loves it so much he loves you so much and no he is totally not about to cry shut up-

♡ Leon is an unexpectedly emotional guy. He reacts to everything, especially positive things, with so much enthusiasm.

♡ So when you come up to him and sheepishly give him a small trinket you made for him, his “cool guy” front just melts.

♡ He’ll like. Hop. Just bounce in place like a really excited rabbit, because that’s basically what he is in this moment.

♡ He keeps it on him wherever he goes. Either he’ll fashion it into an add on for his chain necklace, or he’ll make use of one of his many pockets.

♡ Anytime someone asks about you, he’ll smile so wide and take it as an invitation to show them everything you’ve ever made for him.

Chihiro Fujisaki:

♡ Hugs. Just the tightest, most love-packed hugs you’ve ever experienced in your life.

♡ They try really hard not to cry, they really do, but they can’t help it. It just means so much to them that you would go out of your way to do that!

♡ They’ll ask you to teach them how to make stuff like what you make, so that they can return the favor.

♡ Whether you agree or not, Chihiro’s riding the high for the rest of the week.

♡ They go to class the next day and wait so impatiently for someone to ask about the new charm on their school bag so they have an excuse to ramble about you.

♡ Another person who will keep your trinkets with them all the time.

Mondo Owada:

♡ What a coincidence! He loves making things for you, too!

♡ Only difference is that, while you love to make small trinkets, Mondo likes to make larger, wooden trinkets.

♡ It’s a match made in heaven, honestly. Biweekly gift exchanges.

♡ When you give your gifts to him, it’s kinda like watching a big dog trying to play with a much smaller animal.

♡ He’s so excited, and he knows he has to be gentle, but it’s so hard for him to contain himself! He’ll hold it so gingerly so as not to break it, but every other part of his body’s wiggling because of how happy he is.

♡ He admires your craftsmanship so much, and he loves being able to see all your little design quirks in the things you make for him.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

♡ He will straight up cry, and he does not care how many people look at him weird because of it.

♡ It was rare that Taka received gifts at all, never mind gifts that were so personal!

♡ That was, until he met you.

♡ Any gift that you make for him by hand will be treasured so dearly, but especially things that are related to his interests.

♡ You once made him a keychain in the form of a teeny tiny Kendo sword. He kissed you for a solid ten minutes because he was so deeply moved by your affection for him.

♡ He insists on repaying you in some way for everything you make him, though he doesn’t quite know how.

♡ He settles on: anything you need, you get.

Hifumi Yamada (platonic):

♡ The crowd goes WILD.

♡ Of all people, Hifumi can appreciate handmade gifts. He’s given so many of them before, after all.

♡ He loves your trinkets so much that he actually— and stay with me here cause this is a doozy— takes down his figurines and puts your crafts up instead.

♡ Your classmates are convinced you just triggered The End Times because of that but whatever.

♡ He shows them off just as proudly, too.

♡ Like: “Hey, Yamada, what’s all that on your bookshelf?” “I’m SO glad you asked!” *pulls up a 300 page PowerPoint essay.

♡ In return, you get any art you want. Free of charge. You lucky dog.

[anonymousbardd]

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Made For Each Other

↳ Makoto Hanamiya x FReader

"Mako-san! Ohayo!" The young bubbly girl greeted, and she made her way to her lover, Hanamiya Makoto, who was currently taking a break from practice. Her raven-haired lover smiled and gave her a pat on the head, "Good morning, how's your classes?" He asked, the young girl smiled and showed Hanamiya five test papers with high marks. The young man chuckled and ruffled (F/n)'s hair, "Nice work sweetie," he said with a smirk. Hara popped his gum and loudly complained, "Oi, stop flirting in front of me!" He shouts.

Hanamiya Makoto is a well-known man on the basketball court, he's considered an "Uncrowned King". Those who play very skillfully but don't get as much recognition as the GoM (Generation OF Miracles).

The Kirisaki Daiichi basketball team is known for its dirty playstyle, they don't play by the rules, and that's how they strive to the top. In a field filled with different animals, they are the predators that hunt those who're weaker than them.

Hanamiya Makoto, the captain and coach of the Kirisaki Daiichi basketball team, is known to be the most sadistic and selfish person. He's a man that steals people's dreams and crushes them.

A disgusting man who doesn't care about anything else but be number one. A lot of girls had confessed their feelings for him, but they were all brutally turned down.

Because those girls want nothing more than to irritate their parents, they're going through their rebellious phase and have a weird attraction for the "bad boy" type.

Due to the countless rejections that Hanamiya gave, everyone thought that he just wasn't interested in love at all, they all painted him as a man without a heart.

So what a surprise when they find out that he got together with the most kind and selfless person in their whole school, (F/n) (L/n).

No one has expected such a dynamic, especially for someone like Hanamiya.

"Ne... (L/n)-san, is it okay if I ask you something?" A young girl from asked approached, (F/n) smiled and stopped what she was doing to face her friend, "Sure, you can ask me anything!"

"Well... I know this is kind of inappropriate, but why did you choose to date Hanamiya-san?" The girl asked, (F/n) looked a little surprised, she then giggled and tilted her head, "Why not? He's such a sweetie!"

A lot of people heard, and they all turned their heads to her, in their minds, they were thinking, "What the hell does she mean by that?"

(F/n) sighed sat down on her chair and looked out the window, "He's really sweet and passionate about the things he's interested in, he always checks up on me and helps me with a lot of things."

As the young girl kept doting on her boyfriend, Hanamiya walked into the classroom which instantly filled the room with thick tension, his menacing demeanor had made everybody turn their heads away.

"Oi, move out of my way..," He said, looking down at a poor classmate.

"Mako-chan!" (F/n) called out in excitement, she ran towards him and jumped in his arms, she giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek, "We're in front of the whole class..." Hanamiya muttered, (F/n) rolled her eyes and smiled, "So? I don't care," she said.

Hanamiya noticed the lingering eyes and got frustrated, "What the hell are you idiots looking at?!" He said frowning, (F/n) lightly punched Hanamiya, "Hey! Don't say those things! They're your classmates!"

He groaned and rolled his eyes, the two of them then walked out of the classroom to get lunch together.

"I wonder what (L/n)-San sees in him..." A young girl muttered as she watched the two couple walk out of the classroom.

A boy hummed and thought for a moment before suddenly getting an idea, "It's because they balance each other out, one's the sun and the other is a moon, though they're the opposite, it sits in just right. Like salt and pepper!"

The same girl hummed and nodded, "You're right... I guess it's just the fact that those two are made for each other."

A/N: I know Hanamiya Makoto may not be everybody's cup of tea, but he's just my favorite character from KnB. I have a thing for sadists please don't judge me :'0.

[seijorhi]

Scar Tissue

here there be monsters :))

Miya Atsumu x female reader

w.c 5.8k

tw: blood, gore, body horror, character death, people are munched does that count as cannibalism? sort of implied non-con, horror themes, yandere themes

Standing in the middle of an empty cabin, you find yourself slightly nonplussed. 

Every once in a while guests forget to check out on time. It happens. You give them the courtesy of an extra half hour and eventually they show up at the front desk a little frazzled but mostly apologetic. No worries. 

Once or twice it goes past eleven, and you’ve had to knock at the door and politely remind your guests that checkout was at ten, so if they please wouldn’t mind hurrying it along so you could begin checking them out, that would be greatly appreciated.

In the grand scheme of things, an hour or two delay isn’t the end of the world, it just means you need to kick your ass into gear to get the space ready for the next visitors. So long as they’re not rude about it, you’re happy enough to let it slide without charging them extra. 

This, however, was a first.

With the rain setting in and the humidity only rising, you’re in the beginning of the shoulder season, meaning the few bookings you do have are sparse and sporadic, the cabin set to be vacated this morning not due to be occupied again ‘til Thursday. 

Ten o’clock had come and gone, then eleven, and you’d once again grabbed your spare set of keys, intent on marching down there to find out what the hold up was.

Except there was no answer when you’d knocked, and when you’d finally relented and let yourself in, you’d found the cabin empty.

Not just of its occupant, but his belongings too. The bedroom’s a mess, sheets rumpled and dirt tracked through, there’s dishes in the sink, a pot of stone cold tea sat on the coffee table, a half empty cup beside it. You desperately don’t want to see the state he’s left the  bathroom in. 

The keys, mercifully, are by the door. 

Which is… odd. You have the guy’s credit card details on file so charging the room isn’t an issue, and yeah you’re not thrilled about the mess (why, exactly, did he feel the need to track half the forest in with him?) it’s more that, well, you have an out of hours key drop box for that very reason. If he’d wanted to check out early or there was some kind of an emergency… he could have at least let you know. 

You had better things to do this morning than waiting for a no show. 

—

In the busier months when tourists show up in droves to see the mountains and the hot springs, your cousin drives up to stay with you, and you usually get one or two of the girls from town to come help keep the place clean and tidy and running smoothly. 

At present, you’re it. 

Sheets and towels have to be washed and replaced with fresh ones, you have to vacuum the floors, sweep the dust and the dirt away, mop, clean up the kitchen and the bathroom, wipe everything down – all in all, it takes a solid hour or so, and by the time you’re done, lugging the dirty washing off to the laundry, it’s early afternoon.

A little after four thirty, you hear the telltale sound of tires on the gravel driveway out front. A car door slams and a minute later a familiar face pops up in the entryway.

“Makoto,” you greet. “I missed you yesterday.”

The park ranger, tall and handsome, smiles back at you, “Yeah, well, even lowly rangers get the occasional day off. Taishi came ‘round, right?”

“He did. I told him the same thing I always tell you.”

Makoto lets himself in, closing the door behind him and making his way to the countertop that acts as your front desk. “Which is?”

“That as much as I appreciate the concern, I’m not some helpless damsel all alone in the woods. You don’t need to keep coming up to check on me, Mako.”

The ranger shrugs, “I know.” He smiles, brown eyes crinkling in the corners, “You remind me of my little sister s’all. I wouldn’t like the idea of her out here all by herself, either.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Taishi said, minus the whole sister thing.”

He hums, “If it makes you feel any better, we used to come check on your grandma too before you moved up.”

“Oh, she told me. She’d go on and on for hours about the strong, handsome, young forest ranger who’d stop by – I think she was a touch smitten.”

Makoto bursts out in a bout of surprised laughter, and despite the painful tug inside your chest, you find yourself smiling at the sound. 

In his mid-thirties, tall, broad shouldered and more importantly, raised right, these days you think she might’ve been onto something. 

“Well, in any case, no bear sightings, maulings, creepy strangers or break-ins to report. Nothing but rude, messy guests disappearing into thin air,” you huff. When he lifts an eyebrow, you’re quick to elaborate, “Not like that, he just didn’t bother coming to check out and he left the place a mess.” You sigh, “It’s not really a big deal, more annoying than anything.”

“I can imagine.”

Before she passed, your grandma had instilled in you a strong sense of hospitality towards any guest who entered your home. “D’you want some tea? You’re on the overnight shift this week, right? I have coffee if you’d prefer that.”

It’s a dance the two of you have perfected over the past few months. 

You offer him a drink, he politely refuses. 

You offer him something to eat; snacks, leftovers from the night before, onigiri from lunch – you’re still adjusting to cooking for one, there’s always plenty left over and you’re more than happy to share – and he politely declines that, too. 

Then, you remind him that the daily check-ins aren’t necessary and he doesn’t have to go out of his way to keep dropping by, he makes some non-committal noise, and come tomorrow, he’ll be back on your doorstep and you’ll do the whole thing all over again.

Only this time, he doesn’t get the chance – interrupted by the reception door swinging open, a tall man in worn jeans and a rumpled shirt ducking his head to step inside.

No, not a man, you realise with a horrible jolt. 

A ghost. 

It’s the dark hair that strikes you first. Scruffy, longer than you remember, it’s missing the bright, bottle blond of his high school days – so much so that for a split second, you think it’s his brother who’s appeared out of the blue.

And then he grins – smirks, really, and any doubt vanishes from your mind. That expression isn’t one you’re likely to forget any time soon.

Hooded eyes flicker towards Mako, giving him a brief, dismissive once over. “‘m not interrupting anythin’, am I?” he drawls.

Makoto answers before you can, which is a good thing, you think, because currently, words seem a bit beyond you. 

“No, no ‘course not. I was about to head off soon, anyway.”

Despite saying it, Mako appears perfectly content staying right where he is. 

If you spared him more than an ounce of your attention right now, you’d see the small wrinkle in his brow, the way he shifts, straightening his spine, his shoulders, how he angles himself between you two – calm, yet wary, ready to intervene if need be. 

But you don’t. 

It’s been years since you last laid eyes on Miya Atsumu. 

Back then he was a senior with you, a talented volleyball player on track to join the national youth team and undoubtedly go pro. There was even talk of the Olympics, he was that good. You were… not nearly as interesting.

Mere weeks from graduation, that changed for the both of you.

“Miss me?”

Your throat dries. “… Miya.”

“You two know each other?” Makoto asks, glancing between you. 

Atsumu chuckles, wearing that same lazy grin, “Aw, we’re old friends. Been a while, though, hasn’t it?”

Not nearly long enough. 

“Yeah,” you say with a halfhearted nod. “Something like that.”

Before you can stop to think better of it, you take Makoto’s hand in yours and lean over the countertop to press a kiss to his jaw. “You should get going,” you tell him, your voice light and breathy. Play along, your smile begs. “I’ll call you later.”

And you could honestly kiss him again, because Makoto sighs then, rolling out his shoulders, “Yeah, I s’pose. Taishi’s on patrol tonight, he mentioned he’d stop by if he had a chance. I think Yuki made you something for helping out with the baby shower.”

Yuki had indeed gone to the effort of baking you some thank you muffins, Taishi dropped them off yesterday when he’d come to check up on you. Mako knew that. 

She’s not alone out here, asshole. 

“I’ll keep an eye out. Now go, you don’t wanna be late.” 

Mako gives you a soft look, slowly withdrawing his hand from yours. “Call me if you need anything, love.” 

He spares Miya, watching your interaction with a faintly bored expression, a short, perfunctory nod, “Nice to meet you, excuse me,” and with one last look your way, he leaves.

And you immediately wish he hadn’t. 

You’re not the same girl you were in high school, though. You won’t cower behind Makoto – no matter how tempting the thought is.

“Boyfriend, huh? Ain’t he a little old for ya?”

Whatever fondness had been on your face quickly vanishes, and you turn your attention back to Miya. “I can’t imagine how that’s any of your business.”

Swaggering on further inside, Miya takes the place Makoto vacated, leaning over the counter, his big, broad frame filling up the tiny room. An athlete from the day you met him, both he and his brother were always bigger than you, stronger than you, too. 

Now, looming over you is a veritable wall of muscle. He must be what, 6’4? 6’5? When the hell had he gotten so huge?

You swallow, heart fluttering uneasily inside your chest. 

The heat radiating off of him, the scent it carries with it, permeates the air around you – he smells like the forest, fresh and earthy, cedar and sap and musk. He smells like the rain drizzling outside.

Rolling off of him in waves, it’s thick and dizzying. 

“Just makin’ conversation,” he replies, unperturbed by the thinly veiled hostility in your voice. “It’s been a while, no harm in catching up with old friends, right?”

“We’re not friends, Miya. We weren’t back then, either.”

He feigns a pout, a hand to his heart. “Ouch. Ya weren’t nearly so harsh when your boyfriend was around.” 

You take a deep, calming breath in, only to regret it a split second later when your head swims. “I have things to do, so if you don’t want one of the cabins, then leave. Please.”

Miya offers a toothy smirk, “Why else would I be here?”

Hundreds of miles from home, years after he dropped off the face of the earth and you moved away, what other possible reason would he have for showing up in this tiny mountain town and walking through your door?

Why else indeed. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce, waking up your computer with a jiggle of the mouse. “I’ll just need a credit card to put on file – how many nights?”

A booking was a booking, you didn’t have to like Miya to take his money. 

“Yeaaah, I haven’t got a credit card on me. S’fine, though, I’m not planning on runnin’ off on ya.”

Of course he doesn’t have one. Why would he, looking like he’s rolled out of bed and walked here, no luggage or car in sight. 

You grit your teeth, forcing a terse smile. “That’s fine, I’m sure we can work something out.”

If he trashes the place or leaves you high and dry at the end of it all, you’ll send the damn bill to his brother instead. 

—

Night falls and the rain does not let up.

Fresh from your shower, hair damp, sitting cross legged on your bed there’s an edge of something you’re yet to put a finger on niggling away inside of you. It’s not restlessness, not anxiety exactly; a prickling at the back of your neck, an uneasiness that settles in despite you being in the safety and comfort of your own home. 

The scars on your back twinge, a shiver rolling down your spine. 

From the window, you can spy the cabins in the distance, the warm glow of light spilling out from the darkness. After you showed him the way over and left him with the keys, you’ve seen neither hide nor hair of Miya, which suits you perfectly fine.

Still, you can’t pretend that the old adage ‘out of sight, out of mind’ rings particularly true right now. 

Beyond a bruising grip, Miya never laid a hand on you. He never followed through with the whispered threats, the promises held in dark, greedy eyes that seemed forever drawn to you.

But, as you’d confided in a friend at the time, it wasn’t what Miya Atsumu did that frightened you, it was the thought of what he could do. 

… You’ve faced worse things than Miya Atsumu and come out the other side, though. He’s a relic of your past – an unhappy relic, a reminder of things you’d rather forget, but a relic all the same, and in a few days time, he’ll be gone.

Another glance out the window, the wind picking up – howling as the trees rustle and shake, you nibble at your bottom lip. You should go to bed. 

You grab your phone. 

A few swipes of your finger brings up your last conversation with Mako. You type up a quick message; sorry about before, i panicked. 

After a moment of deliberation, you add; the kiss was probably a bit too far, i really am sorry! 

Adding a smiley face at the end to hopefully alleviate some of the awkwardness, you send it.

He’s in the middle of a shift, and while it’s not as if he’s run off his feet in the middle of the night, you’re not expecting a reply any time soon. 

Within about thirty or so seconds, however, the read notification comes through. Then he starts to type up a reply. Watching those three little dots flicker across your screen, an odd sort of anxiousness fluttering in your gut, you wait…

And wait…

… And wait. 

Either he’s writing out a mini essay, or the poor guy doesn’t have a clue how to respond. You’re on the cusp of letting it go for the night when, finally, his reply comes through.

You don’t have to apologise for being uncomfortable, I get it. 

I’ll be your fake boyfriend whenever you need it. 

It’s not much – an assuaging of guilt, perhaps – you feel lighter for reading it anyway. With the sound of rain pouring outside, the strong winds, soothing in spite of their violence, and a distant clap of thunder, you set your phone aside, flick off the lights and tuck yourself into bed.

—

Red. The trees, the forest floor, the moon hanging low in the sky, your own hands, bathed in a crimson glow. Blood falling from the sky, drenching the earth beneath bare feet.

Fire, burning in your veins, your scars lashed with it, throbbing, searing, excruciating. You shriek and howl and scream ‘til your throat bleeds with it. You keep screaming. You’d claw yourself apart if you could, surrender to death, to pain, to nothing at all – if it’d stop the hurt.

Laughter echoes around you. Mocking. Biting. 

Claws in your spine, teeth at your neck. Fingers drag through the dirt, scrabbling for purchase. 

Is this what it feels like to die?

Air punched from your lungs as you’re split in two, a weight above you, puffs of hot breath fanning your face, a tongue lapping your cheek. 

Pounding, throbbing, aching, ceaseless, agonising–

You jerk awake with a heaving gasp to find you’re not alone in your bedroom. Makoto, still in his ranger’s uniform, hovers over you with an arm outstretched, a concerned look twisting at his face. 

“Your front door was wide open, banging in the wind. I did call out, but when nobody answered I got worried,” he tells you, his brows knitting together. With the back of his hand, he touches your forehead, and his frown deepens. “You’re burning up.”

Even as he says it, your sweat soaked pyjamas cling to your skin, your head throbbing, a dull, heavy ache that reverberates through your entire body. “What– what time is it?” you ask blearily, voice like sandpaper.

“A little after seven – early still.” 

Your attempts to rise are thwarted by a gentle, insistent hand pushing down on your shoulder. “Nope. You’re not getting up, you’re not well. You need rest.”

“I have to–”

“No, you don’t.” Again, he gently pushes you back down. “It’s just that Miya guy staying, yeah? No other guests?”

You mumble something in the affirmative, and Mako nods to himself, “Okay, that’s fine then, we can deal with that. I’ll keep an eye on the front desk and anything else that crops up and you can go back to sleep and rest up, alright? I’ll bring you some water and advil, and some food later if you’re feeling up to it.” 

There’s plenty to argue with him about that. 

For one, he’s fresh off a twelve hour overnight shift, running on less sleep than you, and while it is the off season, there’s still plenty to be done around the place, none of it his responsibility. Not to mention Miya’s probably going to come sniffing around later and you really, really don’t want those two crossing paths any time soon – especially after all the weirdness yesterday. 

You like Makoto, you’d even consider him a friend. The last thing you want is for him to think of you as some burden he should’ve steered clear of. 

And besides, feverish or no, you’re not an invalid. You can get up and push through, just as soon as blinking stops making you want to hurl. 

“Mako–”

“You can argue all you want, I’m not going anywhere.” He pats the top of your shoulder and straightens up, “I’ll make sure this place doesn’t burn to the ground without you for a few hours while you get some rest.”

“…‘kay.”

He smiles, “Good girl.”

Sleep, when it finds you, is fitful.

You dream of yellow eyes, a monster with a snarling maw chasing you through the woods.

You dream that you’re back in hospital again, flickering in and out of consciousness. Like an angel of death, you hover unseen, watching the team of doctors and nurses scramble to save your life. 

‘The EMT’s said she kept mumbling about a wolf.’

The doctor scoffs, ‘Wolves went extinct back in the 1900’s. Look at her back – no wolf did this.’

The creature had stood on its hind legs, covered in thick, black fur. With its snout and tail, claws and gleaming white teeth, wolf was all your delirious brain could conjure. 

You’re not alone in this dreamscape, you come to realise. Standing on the other side of the room, grinning, Miya stares back.

You blink and the doctors and the hospital around you are gone. 

The two of you stand in the woods back behind your childhood home, the gurney and your ravaged, twitching body lying between you. Your heart thuds loudly and he shifts with it, the boy you knew, cocksure and arrogant, and the stranger who walked through your door wearing his face. 

Back and forth, back and forth, like a glitch. He’s drenched in blood, it colours his teeth, smeared across his jaw. His hands are dripping with it. 

The dream melts away, and when it reforms around you you’re in the forest outside, the moon hanging low, full and bright.

‘Can you feel it burnin’ through ya?’ the dream Miya asks. ‘Second time’s the charm. Won’t be long now.’

He fades into shadows, your grandma takes his place. Her wizened face kind and gentle, she takes your hands in hers. They’re soft and worn, warm, so familiar that it makes your heart ache with grief and love and sorrow. Tears well, even as you smile at the sight of her. 

‘Why, child, were you in the woods that day?’

Because I heard it cry out, the words stick in your throat, it cried out in pain, and I wanted to help. 

—

“You’re getting worse.”

Teeth chattering, you manage a weak nod, “I noticed.”

The dumpling soup he’d brought you lies mostly untouched, though you’d made some effort slurping down the broth. You’ve no appetite, the mere thought of trying to eat right now making your stomach churn. At the very least, you had hoped the drugs you’ve loaded your system with might’ve helped ease the aches and pains, the throbbing in your head – alas, no such luck. 

All you want to do is burrow under your duvet and sweat it out, let whatever’s raging through your body run its course, and then you can sleep for a week. 

“Mako, go home.” Every word is a slow, painful effort. “I don’t want you getting sick.” 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” He cracks a smile, placing a fresh glass of water on the nightstand beside you. “‘Sides, if I do get sick, you’ll come take care of me too, right? Return the favour?”

“Mhm, sure.”

For a moment, something akin to delight dances in his eyes, yet he’s quick to sober, the reality of the situation not escaping him. “You’re not getting any better,” he says. “Kick Miya out, close up for a day or two. You clearly need the rest.”

The authoritative tone brooks no room for argument, so you simply hum in acquiescence. 

If you actually stopped to consider it, you could almost say it’s a blessing that you’re sick now, at the very beginning of the rainy season when tourists and visitors to this part of the mountain are few and far between. Closing your doors for a short while wouldn’t hurt you financially when there was no guarantee of business to begin with.

And as far as disrupting Miya’s holiday plans goes – you care even less about that. 

Maybe the fever dreams are still muddying your head, maybe it’s that in your current, rather pathetic state, your capacity for generosity and forgiveness towards his teenage self has dwindled well below what you could manage on a good day.

Either way, a fresh wave of goosebumps prickles at your skin. You want him as far away from you as humanly possible.

“Where’s my…”

Makoto diligently picks your phone up from the nightstand and passes it to you. Each of the cabins has a phone, the numbers pre-programmed into your cell in case of emergencies. After finding the right one you tap on the call button, setting it to speaker and laying the phone back down on the pillow beside you.

It rings once, twice, the noise like a jackhammer to your skull. Makoto frowns as you wince, a soft, discomforted noise leaving your lips, but before he can interject, the call’s answered. 

“Yeah?”

Licking parched lips, you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to gather your wits (and ignore the violent pounding inside your head) long enough to string together a coherent sentence. 

“I– the retreat’s closing, you can’t stay here. Sorry for the… short notice, or whatever. Just– just leave the keys, I’ll waive the rate for last night.”

There’s a short chuckle on the other end of the line, “You’re not sounding too good there, sweetheart. You feelin’ alright?”

“I‘m fine,” you force out. “Can you be out before dark?”

Ignoring the question entirely, Miya snorts, “Lying really ain’t your strong suit, y’know.” There’s a short pause, and you can almost see the shift in his expression, the wicked looking grin taking shape as he speaks again, “You want me to come over and keep ya company? I just hate the thought of you sufferin’ through this all by yourself.” 

Mako’s eyes narrow, his lips pulling into a frown. 

“No, I want you to leave. Please.”

“… Well, since you’re askin’ so nicely, guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? I’ll leave the keys by the door.” 

He hangs up.

The victory feels hollow, almost. Too easily won. Something insistent tugs at your subconscious, but you’re too exhausted to pay it any mind. With a sigh of your own, you meet Makoto’s eye.

“What?” you ask, sinking back into your pillows.

To his credit, Mako doesn’t reply straight away, seeming to chew on his words before he gives voice to them, “It’s none of my business, I realise that. I haven’t– You act different with him. The way you talk, your whole body language, it changes.”

He’s not referring to your conversation on the phone just now. 

“You want the juicy backstory?”

Makoto hesitates, but curiosity wins out. He nods.

“There isn’t one, really. We went to school together, he was good – really good – at volleyball and thought that meant he was entitled to whatever he wanted.”

“Which was… you?” 

There’s no attempt to mask the distaste in his voice. Mako’s the very antithesis of Miya, though, to treat someone like that, to believe yourself entitled to them would never cross his mind in a million years.

You nod. 

“Huh…” His expression turns thoughtful then, head tilting as his brow furrows, “Doesn’t strike me as the pro-athlete type, you know what I mean? Sure, he’s big, but…” 

But the wild, scruffy look ruins it. Nothing about Miya seemed to fit. It was difficult to put a name to; the clothes were wrong, he felt out of place – like a lion prowling city streets, or snow falling in mid-July. 

“Mm. He went…missing’s the wrong word, I guess. He ran off for a few days.” The words come slow, laborious, but Mako doesn’t push you. “And when he came back… he stopped playing volleyball, stopped showing up at school, he was… different. That was after I was in hospital though, last I heard he’d dropped off the face of the earth. I never thought I’d see him again.”

Mako hums again, his attention drifting to the scars peeking out from your bare shoulder. Usually they’re covered up, but with the summer heat and humidity, the thin straps of your pyjamas do little to hide the ugly marks from view. 

“Get some sleep,” he says eventually, rising from his seat. “I haven’t gotta leave for a few hours yet.”

—

When you’re pulled from sleep next, your bedroom’s painted in a golden glow.

There’s no sign of Makoto. A handwritten note lies folded on your bedside table, trying to make sense of the scrawled message only makes the radiating pain inside your head grow worse. The light’s too bright, every noise amplified tenfold – the clock downstairs ticking away, cicadas chirping, the sound of a truck barrelling down the winding road out front and the wind whistling through the trees. It’s deafening, all of it, and you can’t do a thing to block it out.

Despite the oppressive heat, you find yourself shivering, curling trembling limbs around yourself as you sweat and whimper. Your skull feels like it’s slowly being cleaved apart, every breath a shallow rattle. Even your blood burns, liquid fire that scalds you from the inside out. 

Surely your heart, racing frantically within the cage of your chest, can only take so much of this before it gives out. 

Through the delirium, you begin to realise that something is truly, deeply wrong. 

And then you hear it, the front door creaking open, a large body crossing the threshold. You barely have the energy to lift your head, “M-Mako?” you croak out, fingers weakly curling into the sheets around you.

“The ranger?” a familiar voice calls, footsteps thudding down the hall. “Nah, he left a while ago.”

Your stomach twists, a sharp, lancing panic lost to the haze of aches and pains wracking your body as Miya appears at your doorway, dark eyes flitting over your pathetic form, drinking it in. 

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “Hurts, don’t it?”

“Go… away,” you whimper – to no avail. Miya strides into your bedroom like he owns the place. Walks right up to where you lie, shivering and helpless.

You don’t think it escapes either one of you that right now, you’re entirely at his mercy.

You can’t stop him from taking a seat on the mattress next to you, his massive frame looming over you. Can’t do a thing but flinch when a rough fingertips push a lock of hair back from your sweat slicked forehead and trail down your cheek. 

“Only a few more hours, you’re nearly through the worst of it,” he tells you. 

Through the worst of what? 

He hushes you when you let out a frightened whine, stroking your hair, “I’m not gonna let ya go through this alone. You’re mine, my fuckin’ mate, and if that asshole hadn’t–” he breaks off with a huff, the muscle in his jaw working away. It isn’t until a sharp pain breaks through the throbbing haze that you glance down at your leg – at the hand he has resting on your thigh, and the razor-like claws digging into the soft flesh there.

Eyes widening, a strangled noise escapes you. 

In an instant the claws are gone, replaced by normal fingernails – if not for the gruesome looking gouge marks dug into your thighs, the blood that wells to the surface and spills down your leg, falling in fat droplets onto the bed sheets below, you’d think you imagined it.

The sharp burst of pain fades, the wounds closing before your eyes – until nothing but smooth skin marred with streaks of red remain. 

Miya stares at your thigh for a moment longer, seemingly lost in thought. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re dark, resolute. “He’s not around to stop me this time.”

You simply shiver, closing your eyes to try and block it all out. 

None of this is real. You’re hallucinating, or dreaming – you have to be. 

‘Wolves went extinct back in the 1900’s. No wolf did this.’

The room gets darker, moonlight creeping in through the window, and the pain gets worse. At some point, Miya shuffles you over a bit to lie down beside you. He takes you into his arms, ignoring your pitiful attempts at struggling and tucks you into his broad chest.

His scent, the deep timbre of his voice as he speaks to you, his hands, wandering over your clammy skin. Even in your delirium, he won’t let you forget that he’s the one here with you. 

Eventually, the words stop making sense, syllables blurring and twisting together. You can only lie there, waiting for the pain to end, for your fever to abate while Miya takes advantage of your weakened, sickly state.

The first snap comes out of nowhere.

White hot and agonising, it shoots up your leg, radiating like a shockwave. You choke on a scream, eyes flying open.

Miya’s hands are nowhere near your legs. 

There’s no time for you to comprehend the pain, much less how a bone can spontaneously break on its own; another sick crack echoes through the room – your femur.

And the howl that rips its way free of your lungs is something animalistic. Tears leak from your eyes as your back arcs up off the bed, only for a second, and then Miya’s sweeping you up into his arms, holding you close. Without a word of explanation – not that it’d do you any good, not that you’d understand – he carries you through the house, out into the balmy summer night and the forest that lies beyond.

Wailing and shrieking like a wild thing, your bones snap and elongate, tearing through your skin. Thick, dark fur sprouts across your body, the tatters of your clothes falling to the dirt below, your jaw cracks, blood filling your mouth, spilling down your chin. 

In a small clearing he lays you down on the forest floor and pats your head, “You’re gonna do great, babe.”

You snarl in response. 

Muscles tear from bone, growing, reshaping, your teeth sharpen and claws burst through the beds of your fingernails, the same happening to your toes. Your face contorts, a muzzle violently forcing its way through the front of your skull. 

You lose your mind to the pain. Writhing in the dirt, bathed in the glow of moonlight, you lose all sense of self. There’s only blood and agony and a hunger that gnaws at the pit of your belly. 

And as your bones settle, the last ripples of the change fading away into nothing, you stagger to your feet, taking in this new world of yours.

With eyes sharper, a nose a thousand times more sensitive, ears picking up a cacophony of noises from miles around you, the assault to your senses is near overwhelming. Yet instead of whimpering and cowering from that, you relish in it. 

You’re a beast born to hunt. There’s a scent in the air, mouthwatering, rich–

A low whistle sounds behind you, and on instinct you turn, teeth bared in a vicious growl. Yellow eyes stare back from a human face, he smells… familiar. Like you. No… no, something more than that. There’s a bond there, a tether between you two; sire. 

He grins, “Look at’cha. My perfect little mate.”

Mate?

You hesitate, ears twitching. That intoxicating scent of prey still carries on the breeze, you can hear their beating hearts, voices in the distance, every instinct within you screaming to follow it, to hunt. Yet you still yourself, waiting – for what?

A low whine slips from your muzzle and he laughs.

Head tilting back to soak in the moonlight, his grin wide and inhuman, the change sweeps over him, too. Bones crack and shift, skin ripples and reforms. In mere seconds, a monstrous, furred beast stands in his place and when he speaks next, it comes not from his maw, but echoing in your head.

Poor thing. You’re hungry, need to eat – first time really takes it out of ya. 

It’s all the permission you need. Bounding across the forest floor, you chase after it – towards the voices, the yellow lights of the ranger’s station twinkling on the mountainside.

Perhaps when you wake up curled around Miya, freshly human, slathered in blood with body parts strewn around you and the taste of raw meat on your tongue, some part of you will shatter irreparably. 

For now, though, the promise of tearing into warm bodies and sating that empty, gnawing hunger, of ripping into flesh and muscle is enough to have you salivating as twin howls shatter the calm, summer night air. 

[lacystar]

some of my favorite and least favorite details from royal:

when you go with sumire to the shrine and bump into the rest of the thieves, they basically say they all agreed to go together. this is backed up by futaba saying she's going in the morning. this means they specifically went out of their way to not invite you. either theyre shady as fuck towards joker or they knew you were gonna be on a date and didn't want to bother you, but I think its funnier to go with the first one

most of the people in Tokyo's dreams coming true bc of the actualization are met with some doubt or confusion from family members, as seen in passing conversations and the loading screens. this is to show the cracks in the plan and how the actualization hasn't been . well. fully actualized yet. however, the phantom thieves told maruki what they want directly and therefore have their realities so tailor made to them that you have to go out of your way to break them out of it. this includes Morgana. but the only ppl who can hear Morgana are people with personas. this means that some time between Christmas and new years, maruki heard Morgana saying he wanted to be a human and decided to go "fuck it, sure, the cat that the weird kid owns but that ive never met can have his wish too". this tracks because maruki has a persona and is not shocked or confused when he sees Morgana in the metaverse.

Yusuke did not wish for his dead mom to be alive again. just for her painting to hit the trending tab 😭

even if you are dating sumire, like I was, she will not say goodbye to you or give you a parting gift. this creates the awkward situation of her saying goodbye to you at the station with an unusual coldness and disassociation from you, even if you and her are boyfriend and girlfriend. I actually hate this. why the fuck isn't my girlfriend saying goodbye to me.

the winter outfits are the best designed outfits in the game. ann and makoto are in ugly 2010's H&M shit for 90% of the game and then get a fresh wardrobe for the new years.

in contrast, maruki's villain outfit is so fucking ugly. he looks like a golden toenail. the final villain in your game and you have him looking like that? come on man.

not royal exclusive, but Morgana has a talking sprite of himself in his cat form. for some reason, they refused to use this until the end of the game when he "loses" his metaverse form. this makes absolutely no sense, as the talking sprites of every other character changes on their clothes/appearence. why doesn't Morgana's change to his cat version in the real world and why doesn't he just have his "true" form in the metaverse. for some reason, this frustrates me to no end.

when you date sumire, she will not shut the fuck up about her dead sister. also, 90% of your relationship with her is based around her false identity she assumed of her dead sister. you are basically dating this girl's dead sister.

^^^ this is not helped by the fact that her "sumire" sprite looks ugly as fuck and she only looks cute when she's cosplaying as her dead sister. the devs even knew this and changed her back to her Kasumi sprite as soon as they justifiably could 😭

speaking of, royal REALLY REALLY makes it obvious that they see joker x sumire as the canon romance. in the base game I think they saw it as makoto or Haru, but in royal its uncanny how much they push you into dating her. however, she's objectively the worst girl to date because you can only date her at the very end of the game, and therefore only get to experience valentines and white day with her, whereas with most of the other girls you get Hawaii, Christmas, the school fair, etc.

^^^ however, this makes sense, as the realization that you were never dating sumire and instead were instead dating her dead sister would probably come as an uncomfortable surprise to the player. atlus had no choice but to wait until the truth came out to let you date her. they wrote themselves into a corner and then were unable to show off the character who has the biggest model on the poster 😭

when you go around and get goodbye gifts, you cannot say goodbye to certain phantom thieves members if you haven't maxed them out. this resulted in a weird situation where I hadn't maxed out makoto, Haru, and ann, and therefore joker, despite that in universe having helped them through trauma and loss and difficult times, did not say goodbye to some of of his closest friends and teammates . I understand not getting a goodbye gift from them, but its SUPREMELY weird that you dont get a one-on-one goodbye if you dont max their confidants 😭

not royal exclusive, but shinya Oda's voice acting (English) is so fucking terrible its actually laughable. in a game with outstanding voice acting, the fact that this 12 year old sounds like a 50 year old woman really sticks out. this is unfortunate, because Oda is one of my fav confidants and makes him hard to take seriously, but also fortunate because its fucking hilarious.

Akechi's evil Loki costume is ugly as fuck, but is saved singlehandedly because he's wearing thigh-high boots. if you dont believe me, look closely at his thighs. you'll see it.

maruki looks like wilbur soot and it really unsettles me.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Baby Makoto AU Doodle Dump🐣

Hiya everyone! So, I’ve been busy working on some art of this new little concept of mine. It’s been in my head for a while. Ever since I found out Makoto is in fact canonically 3 years old. And then thinking of Number One being a doting single parent to his tiny homunculus clone whom he adopts to keep safe from further experimentation and raises as his own 🥺💕

I’ve seen other people (specifically on twitter) come up with this thought as well. Makoto as a 3 year old child with Yuma as his parent. Honestly other than drawing my favorite characters being sick, drawing them as little kids also brings about a nostalgic comfort to me. Not nearly as much joy as drawing sickies brings me, but it was fun to draw the all powerful CEO as a little toddler curious about the world. He's just a little baby <3

Now I am actually a bit shy and insecure about this idea. Mainly due to people possibly confusing it with infantilization and/or age regression. This is neither of those things. It’s an AU where he just happens to be a toddler. If anything I picture little Makoto to be similar to Anya from Spy x Family. (and the fact they both share a Japanese VA makes this connection even cuter, and he's only one year younger than her x3)

Anyway, I hope you all will indulge in me as I share the art I’ve done of this tiny little homunculus. I probably won’t talk about this au or draw it often due to feeling shy about it, so I just made a full on thread of the doodles if you want to see. I keep them under a read more to prevent spam (and I know not everyone is a fan of this concept)

But if you look, I hope you enjoy!

A little reference of sorts I made of my toddler Makoto design. (though he wears different clothing in every art I do of him lol this just connects his normal purple flowery attire) He is exactly 2 feet shorter than his usual height making him pretty small for a toddler. (but yuma is pretty short too lol and I want him to be able to carry him ;w;)

He has 2 special toys that connect to his other mask designs in the concept art. The teddy bear is his very special possession that Yuma gave him as a present, and the puppet teruteru-bozu is something he made together with Yuma when crafting on a rainy day. (he is so talented preparing him for the future when he actually develops products for the company he will run) The melon ball is based on his favorite fruit, and he has socks and a fuzzy blanket with the pattern of his mask.

In this AU, Yuma retains his Number One persona. He’s not meek apologetic and unsure, he has the confidence of the ultimate detective. But is he confident as a parent? Not in the slightest. But taking care of Makoto teaches him more about being kind and empathetic towards others, and eventually over time he becomes super protective and even at times doting towards Makoto.

Making his personality a bit more bright and pleasant, much like the kind and gentle Yuma that we all know and love. Parenthood causes the serious detective to soften up a lot. And of course this causes Makoto to love and depend on Yuma in return and never want to cause him trouble. (So he puts on a tough act a lot ;w;) However, he almost never calls Yuma dad. He just calls him Yuma. Its very rare that he refers to Yuma as his dad but this is perfectly okay by Yuma. (But when Makoto does call him dad? Yuma feels such unexplainable emotional discord that he almost cries.)

Some more doodles :3

Such a silly little family. I love them so much <3

Why did I think of this AU? Because I want Makoto and pre-game Yuma to not be lonely, be happy together, and for Makoto to have a childhood. Honestly Makoto seems a bit childish and playful in canon too so...

I think I'd like him to have an actual childhood where he grows up comfortable and happy. And in the care of someone who loves him 💜