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quiteliterallyilliterate · 10 months ago

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MDNI

Ok, for real this time.

CW: Sex/Sexual content, not feral twilight, but he’s almost there, light marking, breeding

Reader has feminine anatomy and no pronouns.

Not proofread!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Spring was a very prominent season among Ordon. Sure, every season had its place in their ritualistic life. But given Ordon was a small farming village, the icey cold of winter and droughts of summer didn’t provide them with much. Hell— even the goats were cranky without fresh grass to gnaw on.

But the sun would, with time, melt the snow and nourish the land. Small flowers would poke up on the edges of pathways and riverbeds. The bank would crack as the sheets of ice splintered and gave way. The grounds would soften and absorb the first rain of many months.

Link had always loved spring. As a boy, he loved the warm sun on his skin as he picked away at fresh grass, splitting the blades and getting soft dirt under his fingernails. As he grew, the season proved to be enjoyable far beyond just its temperance. Laying largely in, of course, that his job of caring for a herd of goats relied primarily on their happiness. Spring was kind to him. The sun didn’t beat at his skin, the goats didn’t groan their discontent, the work was plentiful, but pleasant.

Only one true downside sprung to mind with the season of spring. He remembers being particularly younger -perhaps his first season working as a hand with the goats- and getting rammed by a particularly competitive ram. His chest and back had minor bruises, and his palms were scraped.

It was that year he learned there was a lot more to caring for a herd of animals than simply providing them what they needed.

‘One must adjust themselves’ Fado explained as he wrapped the scrapes, ‘To the animals, you are new. Not one of them. Competition to that ram, in his eyes.’ He chuckled heartily as Link explained that he was only trying to help feed them. ‘They ain’t smart enough to know that, kiddo. Don’t you worry yerself. Now run along, I have things handled.’

The years passed. He grew familiar with the herd and they grew familiar with him. He could pick out which were particularly moody, the others more friendly. He knew their waking and feeding times to the minute. He knew which were the most prone to being lame.

But most importantly related to avoiding injury, like that of his prior example, when they’d mate.

And though he never would admit it aloud to a single soul so long as he had dignity, the idea was captivating. The thought that someone could feel the primal need to fuck so badly that the world becomes irrelevant was one he’d often entertain on quieter nights, his lungs struggling to draw steady breath as his hands wrapped around his cock. There was something about that need to rut into somewhere soft and warm and fertile never failed to draw strangled whines from his throat.

But of course, that was before he had to actually tend to said urges.

That was before his soul was shattered and welded back together with something more beast than man.

He’d found, more often than not, that a rut was more annoying than anything else. He was constantly covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his body temperature being so elevated. Worked wonders for attracting attention as a bead of sweat would travel down the contours of his muscles. However, having consistently damp sheets because of it was so annoying he’d sleep on the couch most nights. The aggression was mostly annoying because it resulted in him cursing out the goats so often he was sure he looked utterly insane.

That was, of course, not even mentioning the sexual aggression.

The weeks dragged out and the temperatures raised up. And every single night Link would come home, take a shower, eat some dinner, and proceed to spend the rest of the evening with his hands between his legs. Occasionally a pillow would find its way between strong, plush thighs, his hips bucking and grinding pathetically at the sensation. But even after his hands, thighs, stomach and bed were stained with sticky cum, another wave of mind-numbing heat would roll over him.

Notably most annoying was there was no solution. Horny as he was, the beast would shove away any lover he tried to take in distaste. It craved something special. Something specific to sate his urges and carry his kin.

At first, he thought this to be a cruel and unusual curse from Hylia. Her way of forsaking her hero who was permanently ‘tainted’. It only seemed fitting when one considers the purity culture the church possesses. That it was something beyond simply shameful to tend to temptation.

But then he met you. You who was always different. Who both him and wolf pined for. Who had him tripping over himself for your affection. You who he didn’t care about the consequences. So long has he had you.

You who did not spit at him for who he was— what he was. You who loved him regardless. You who kissed his tattoos and markings. You who reassured him during his anxiety attack, that you weren’t ’too good for him’ that he truly was deserving of love either way.

So much had shifted since then, though nothing really had at all. The both of you both still split chores and cuddled at night. But now both hemispheres of his sentience could be satisfied knowing you were his. First as a lover who he could cuddle and kiss, someone to cherish until the end of his being. And second as a mate who he could protect and claim, someone to breed and carry his pups.

Not much changed as of genuine dynamics, but his outlook most certainly had.

Spring, familiar in the back of his mind, began to bloom. The snow melted off the fields, the life returning to the woods, his mind running wild at seeing any newly exposed skin.

To some extent he felt indecent. The man in him wanted to help you prepare for the festival, to caress your warm skin and pepper your cheeks with kisses. He wanted to enjoy life at your side. The wolfish, however, wanted nothing more than to pin you to the bed and fuck you senseless. To make new life as if his own was dependent on it. The civility instilled in him was mortified with the thoughts of the primal.

But that of course, made them no less present. Nor did it made his skin no less warm, or his jealousy less looming.

Ordon never really held large events, but the equinox of each season was mutually assured to be the time to go all in. Each family would show up with multiple dishes and drinks and the festivities would last long into the early hours of the day. It was your first time at the spring festival, the children presenting you with a flower crown and giddy grins. You both ate and drank your shares, laughing among the village. Just like any other family at the table… that was, excluding the lack of little ones.

Eventually, some of the more drunken began to sing and chant, the makeshift beat and music causing some to dance and sway. Link hung back as you were tugged into the crowd by Ilia. The fading sun caught your skin, dousing it in a radiance beyond mortality. He could hear your laughter amidst the voices, clear and crisp. You were divine, he decided. Not just perfect or stunning, but someone he’d devote himself to until he had nothing left to give.

He’s actually quite unsure on how long it was he sat there in admirance. He got more than a few comments on how utterly lovesick he was for you, but it didn’t matter. Not to him. Not now you were finally his. You came back, a smile lingering on your lips as you kissed him, your hand squeezing his shoulder with some sense of urgency.

“Are you alright?” His hand, rough from a life of nothing but work, cupped your jaw with such delicacy. His voice was hushed, not wishing to draw attention to you in the case something truly was wrong. You grabbed him by the collar, demanding him closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you spoke.

“I think it’s time we headed home.” And who was he to deny you? Especially not with the lilt in your voice, one that had him weak willed to your order.

He didn’t bother putting you down as he walked through the front door. He had you on the bed in seconds. He straddled your hips, a single strong hand pressing you to the mattress by the neck. His hands tugged sharply at your shirt, ripping away the fabric with a muttered promise for a new shirt. He immediately defended upon the skin, latching and sucking marks and bruises.

“Yer so fuckin’ stunning sugar” He whispered against your skin, kissing the hickey he just planted.

“All laid out f’me, huh?” His accent thickened, his teeth grazed against the fragile skin of your throat, pulling it taught in places.

“All yours, just for you” You managed to weakly affirm. He grinned, sharp and suggestive.

“All mine.” He nipped at your neck, his subconscious running crazy with the scent of your skin. Begging him once more to claim— to mark what’s his. Reverently, he kisses the lovebites he leaves. Some bleed, but his tongue travels along each ridge in the bite mark. He savours your blood on his tongue. It’s the finest drug, setting each half of his mind reeling and his own blood rushing. He travels to your perked nipples, suckling on them both in turns as his hand massages the other one.

“So good for me.” He lets his hand trail down to your thighs, pressing them open. He chuckles at how easily they spread apart. A fang drags lightly against your skin as he kissed right above your hips, directly on top of where your uterus would be.

“G’na look so pretty, all stuffed with my pups.” He looked up at you through his lashes, his hands tightening around your thighs with the look of need on your face.

“I’ll help ya’ darlin’ don’t you worry” He slid back, hooking a finger over your waistband and asking a slightly shaky “may I?”

“Please, Link I-“ His hands ripped through any clothes that separated his mouth from your cunt. His hands slid to your hips to pull them even closer to his face as he lapped away. A starving man would’ve been more civilised with their meal.

But as far as he was concerned, he was drinking the most intoxicating wine straight from the tap.

He payed no mind to your whines, nor did he slow as your thighs squeezed his head. He would occasionally dive up, his tongue toying with your clit. He lets your fingers thread hrough his hair, pulling him as close as possible before gushing into his maw. He revels in the pain of your knuckles tugging at your hair. He leans in closer, trying to drink you in even more. You tried to pull back to give him breathing room, only to be pulled back in by the hips. He licked your pussy clean, some cum still dripping down his chin. Your hips buck at the sight, a man so pussydrunk he could die of suffocation between your thighs and be happy. He gently traveled back up to kiss either of your cheeks and comb through your hair, massaging out the insides of your thighs as you resurfaced from your mind.

“Love?” He praised you in his tone alone, his forehead pressed against yours as he untangles himself from between your legs.

“Yes?” You open one half-lidded eye to see a beggar man, eyes full of such hope.

“C-Can I,-“ He didn’t need to say ask before you knew the question.

“Yes.” He’s careful, as of trying to convey to you in the motion of pressing your legs upward just how much he loves you.

Something in his eyes darkens the second he’d sunken inside your heat. He paused, letting you adjust to him and your muscles to relax.

“Fuck that greedy hole a’ yours fits me- so so well” He grumbles out, his chest rising and falling, as if staying still were truly a great effort to him. He bares his teeth, unnaturally sharp for one of his kind. His hips suddenly draw back and snap against your own, his length pushing against your cervix. He mumbles fragmented praises incoherently, slamming into you with an abusive pace, contrasted to the slow circling of your clit. His hand is so warm against your sensitive nerves, you want help but buck and wail in a desperate attempt to keep the stimulation as you get closer and closer to cumming. And you know you’re not alone— his grunts turning raspy the closer he himself gets to cumming, almost like a growl.

“Gna’ knock you up.” His hips buck out of time, but certainly no less fast. Your cunt flutters with the dizzying combination of sensations.

“You want that? My litter? Pups of our own?” Perhaps it was the near ferality in his tone that caused you to topple over. Or maybe it was his two fingers that curled around your clit. Even his cock nudging against your most sensitive bundle of nerves. He followed not too soon after, your silken walls squeezing around him must’ve been exactly the fix he’d been lusting after.

You both spent a few minutes curled up, catching your breath and letting your minds settle. You begin to shift, only to be met with a needy whine and arms around your abdomen.

“Nonono! Not yet- Please stay still” Link’s arms were loose, willing to let you go if that were your decree. You made no motion to move, much to his delight. He kneaded out any of your sore muscles and whispered praises into your hair as he played with it. Your eyelids began to flutter, sleep only staged off by his quiet whisper.

“Hey Darlin’?”

“Hm?”

“I love you. I love you so much.”

#link x reader #lu x reader #tp!link x reader #tp!link #lu twilight x reader #lu twilight #link x reader smut

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newtonsheffield · 2 months ago

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Was he running late bc he couldnt decide if the color should match his own outfit for ~style~ or neddy's so he'd be more likely to wear it? Because he has no idea if thats actually how child brains work but sounds legit to him! Or if he should match Kate in solidarity so that people walking past maybe might possibly think they're a FAMILY and then gets caught up wondering if he should just buy 3 so they REALLY look like a unit or if thats just lame or would somehow upset Kate and then he loses track of time and he forgot his phone and if he doesnt run back theyre gonna think he abandoned them?

Anthony spent a grand total of seven minutes trying to decide between a red and a navy cap. He was trying to figure out which of these would make him more attractive to Kate. Tough call, red might really make his eyes pop but Navy’s a really safe choice. In the end he turned to the random women beside him holding up both of the caps.

“If I was wearing this to support the mother of my child which one of these would make her want to kiss me more?”

The woman blinked at him for a second, “Navy?”

“Perfect! Thank you!”

By the time he gets back to the park he’s got a stitch in his side and he’s sure it’s not attractive how bloody sweaty he is but he loves the way Kate’s looking at him. It makes him feel 12ft tall when Neddy puts his Donald Duck cap on and Kate smiles as she snaps a photo of them both, crouched in front of Newton. He loves spending time with Kate and Neddy like this. He’s spent so much time feeling lonely these last few years even when he’s surrounded by his family and now he doesn’t. Now he feels like this is where he’s meant to be, laughing with Kate at their son with chocolate icing on his nose.

#surprise neddy au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago

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sorry but golden retriever sungchan x black cat reader is the only canon option! if you write a blurb on this pls i will actually kiss you in the mouth (ily btw)

[man on a mission]. jung sungchan has taken it upon himself to make you laugh at least once a day.

“you’re so fucking lame,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes, sitting in front of him at the cafeteria while he has two chopsticks sticking out of his nose. “gross,” you say, but the slight quirk of your lips and the way you quickly reach for your iced lemonade to cover it up makes him pump his fist in the air in victory— even at the expense of his image.

“ha! you laughed! i win.”

his other friends ask him why he even bothers. or, in the words of anton, “hyung, why are you so hell bent on making a fool out of yourself at least once a day?” but his motivations go beyond the selfish desire of proving that his sense of humor can even penetrate the moody and scary (i.e. you). sungchan has made is a mission to make you laugh every single day because of one single reason.

sungchan is simply sick and tired of people talking shit about you.

“it’s ridiculous!” he huffs, slamming both fists on the table after anton asked him the question. “they don’t even know them that well!” yet those same people call you bossy, call you a stick in the mud, temperamental and so on and so forth— which, sungchan has to admit isn’t all wrong. you’re always scowling or glaring or telling people off, but your love language is violence and words needled with spikes. sungchan is the only with enough fluency to see the tenderness in your light punches and your eloquent “fuck you’s” straight to his face.

no, he doesn’t want you to change. he doesn’t want you to soften up your edges just because of the thoughtless impressions of a couple dozen unimportant people.

but it won’t hurt to see you laughing ever so often, right?

“oh my god, stop it,” you wheeze, hands pressed tightly to your face after sungchan shows you a dumb tiktok video he just saw, then imitating it with just as much grace and passion, causing you to snort out loud and burst into a fit. “fuck’s sake, i hate you so much.”

once more, mission accomplished. he forced you to tag along with his friends for dinner today, so that was a necessary move to break the ice— especially because anton is kind of afraid of you. seeing you out of your usual resting bitch face should ease their intimidation, and jung sungchan is proud of himself for a job well done seeing shotaro having a passionate discussion about a manga you’ve both read.

“no way, i couldn’t find a copy anywhere! can you lend it to me?”

there’s a swell of pride in his chest seeing you talk so easily with someone else other than him. it’s nice to see other people finally seeing you in the same light as he had for the past couple of years. pride. yes. that’s exactly and the only thing he’s feeling right now.

“hey.”

but as your conversation with taro lengthens that you haven’t looked at him since laughing at his joke, and as eunseok discreetly calls his attention while staring at you from across the table with a look in his eyes that’s all too familiar— almost as if he’s looking straight at a mirror—sungchan thinks that maybe he should abort his mission.

“your friend has a pretty smile.”

he knows. he’s been trying to get everyone else to see it all this time.

#blurbs #had this thought in the bathroom huahahahahahah #sungchan x reader #jung sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan x you #jung sungchan x you #riize x you #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize fluff #jung sungchan scenarios #sungchan scenarios

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hazashiovo · 10 months ago

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imagine sparring with Korra and ended up with a heated makeout session

I can see it, like angry sparing which turns into heated kisses😶

Korra x Reader

Warnings: suggestive towards the end, fighting, making out, pouring out your feelings.

Maybe pushing Korra's buttons all day long wasn't such a good idea,and what brings you to this conclusion? Well maybe her pissed off face as she enters the training ring.

But it's not your fault! You were just bored,and what other entertainment was better than annoying the girl you hate? (Are deeply in love with but deny it) Yes,maybe you'd get a kick out of seeing her face red with anger,it's funny really!

Not to her it isn't, ever since this morning you were on to your mission to make her day insufferable,and imagine how happy she was when you proposed sparing with her,oh yes. How happy she was to blow off some steam , caused by no one else but you.

Korra knew, she knew you only wanted to piss her off further,but maybe you should've thought that she's the avatar,able to use all four elements,while you can only bend one element. This is going to be entertaining.

"Gonna keep staring at me like you wanna eat me up or you're gonna actually fight me?" Oh that smirk,that stupid smirk plastered on your face , matching with your raised eyebrow,she just wants to rip it off your face and throw it on the ground and stomp-

"Bring it on." Her stance changes, ready to attack. Fists clenched tightly urging to get you on your ass. She smirks only thinking about it.

You smile , running towards her with hot fiery fists,one punch, she dodges, taking advantage of her exposed position you trip her,a grin taking over your face.

"What's wrong Korra? Can't handle little old me?" You chuckle at her furious expression.

The brunette groans, bending herself of the ground using earth. Silently cursing you for taking her down in the first place. Oh you wanna see what she can do? She'll show you what she's can really do.

Hit with a sudden surge of adrenaline,Korra sends your way multiple earth spikes, almost loosing your balance you bend yourself a fire wave , sending it her way.

Korra scoffs, dodging the wave with an air ball. You roll your eyes, can this girl be any more frustrating? That's one of your best moves!

"That's so weak! Lame." The girl mocks, smirking down at you,a feeling of satisfaction taking over her frustration.

You roll your eyes, she's the lame one ,not you! "You wanna see power privileged girl? I'll show you power."

The avatar watches as fire starts surrounding you, slowly taking the shape of a huge snake.

How the fuck are you able to do that?! Is she capable of doing this to? She must admit ,even if she despises you,it's pretty fucking cool. Maybe one day you could teach her that.

During the time she spaced out staring at your fire creation, your snake lunged at her fast. Surrounding her with hot red fire.

Korra furrows her brows annoyed, resulting to water bending. She could hear you chuckling in the back round as she tries to fight off the huge fire monster.

Once she figured out she has to get away from the beast she uses earth bending, creating a small tunnel to pass your snake.

"You like my power now, Avatar?" Her eyes land on your amused face. With one swift move she runs towards you, using earth bending to give her a boost, and with her iced fists she punches you, in the stomach making you stumble to the ground. Your snake of fire disappearing in the clear air.

So in order for you to lose control of the created beast,you must take physical damage? Noted.

What really didn't help your case was your physical health. Unfortunately for you, you were weaker in hand to hand combat. It's mostly why your fire bending is so much stronger then Korra's.

You start coughing up, holding your stomach in pain. "No fair," you mutter through coughs, Korra towers over you, her anger eyes taking in your fallen form.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so cocky." Her hands hang loosely on her hips,a victorious glint in her eyes.

Once you finally regain your breath you're able to stand on your feet. Glaring at her trough your furrowed brows.

"You're the one to speak." You scoff, she's the one acting like a bitch...damn your stomach hurts.

"Admit that I'm better than you already! It's the least you can do after I kicked your dumb ass!" You grit your teeth at her totally untrue words.

You take a deep breath in, turning your upper body to attack Korra again, after all you're not one to give up that easy.

One strong kick with your fire laced leg sends Korra flying into a wall. While trying to recover from your strong attack ,you stroll towards her. Your stomach no longer hurting as it did before.

"Look at you," your hands land on each side of her head, caging her in. "The all mighty avatar at my mercy." She can't help but stare,a proud smirk stuck to your face like a medal. How could you of everyone beat her?

The dark haired girl grits her teeth in anger, yet one taught hangs around her mind, why are you so eager to prove her wrong?

"What's it to you? Don't forget I'm stronger than you'll ever be." Now she's the one holding the smirk, Korra tried raising her hands,but you're quick to stick both of them to the wall.

"What's it to me? Everything!" You huff out at her obliviousness. One eyebrow raised,she waits for you to continue your blabbing. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Everything fell to your feet ever since you were a child! And me? I had to work for it. But no matter how long I trained or how strong I became,I was never truly acknowledged,but you? Their precious little avatar?" Korra huffs annoyed, taking a hold of your hands and swiftly switches your positions, making you the trapped one now.

She inches closer to your face,"I had to work for everything! I had to prove that I am the avatar, nothing came to me for free,so stop assuming I'm some stuck up princess!"

Her words make you scoff. What did she ever have to fight for? She could master all the elements as a kid, Korra never had to worry about being enough,you did. People called you weak ,you allways had to prove yourself to the world,that's why you became a pro bender in the arena. This way they could finally see,that you're enough.

"You? Funny you're the one that cries about having to work,but I'm the one who was judged for not being strong enough! You have no idea how hard the weight placed on my shoulders was."

You squirm under her, trying to break free,but Korra doesn't budge. You try kicking her with your leg, yet your efforts are shut down by her knee that's now placed between your legs, holding you down in place.

"Why are you so damn stubborn?" Korra grits her teeth,your faces mere inches apart, the arguing leading nowhere,just back and forth bickering.

"You're so annoying!" You groan out, resisting the urge to head but her. Korra's face looks like she's about to blow up,smoke practically coming out of her ears.

Korra pushes you further into the wall, drawing a gasp out of you. "Can't you shut up already? You're so insufferable!"

You raise a brow,a new idea popping in your mind. "Oh yeah? Why don't you make me? Bet you can't." She watches as your expression fills with mischief,a different look shining in your (e/c) eyes.

Korra stands in front of you, thinking of what to say now,you practically put her in a corner. Ironic since you're the one backed up.

"Nothing to say n-" before you could finish your sentence shock creeps into you, the feeling of her soft lips forcefully attached to yours silence the snarky remark that was about to be said.

She pushes in,hear leg rising up as a warning once you try closing your thighs.

Her hands tighten around your caged wrists, you push your chest in hers making her whine groan in your mouth.

The kiss is hungry and lustful,yet there's no denying that passion burns as hot as your fire.

Starting to feel light headed,you pull your head away from Korra's. Taking rapid breaths to chase away the light headiness.

"I wasn't expecting you to shut me up like that." You tilt your head away from her burning gaze. Cheeks pinkish and warm.

If she's honest, Korra doesn't really know what took over her,but she knew this was something she was hungry for,deep inside. Is this the reason why her glares would be directed to people getting overly friendly with you, lingering touches on your shoulder or waist. But never did she really get to grasp the reason why.

Korra releases your hands, instinctively your hands rub against one another, already feeling the future bruises.

"It worked, didn't it?" Korra raises a brow to match with her smirk.

You roll your eyes, mustering up a snarky answer to get back at her,that thought fades once she closes the distance between the two of you again,this time her hand wrapping on your neck,one finger holding your jaw in place, her other hand wrapped around your waist.

Your lips move in sink,both of you fighting,yet again, for control. Your tongues rubbing against each other while the kiss becomes more lustful and needy.

Your hands find themselves entangled in Korra's hair,then moving lower towards the back of her neck, pulling her in even more than before. Craving her touch.

You moan when her tigh rubs against you middle, of course she knows what she's doing. Korra takes that split of a moment to gain full control, dominating the kiss shared between you two.

Maybe ,just maybe the two of you don't despise each other as much as you claim.

This was such a fun thing to write! Come at me with more requests of the sort :)

#tlok #tlok korra #the legend of korra #the legend of korra x reader #korea x reader #korra x fem reader #korra #avatar korra #sugestive #fic #fan fiction #x reader #reader #korra tlok

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morroodle · 28 days ago

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Everyone I'd like you to meet my wife the Source Dragon of Motion

She is absolutely HUGE and has a lovely weight to her. She now sits high up on my shelf watching over the whole room and she looks absolutely magestic up there. Please excuse my garbage lighting it does not do her justice.

hello wifey :D

Oh and I guess she came with this lame stupid overdramatic throne thing too. I refuse to put it on her.

I dont know how to explain how absolutely HUGE she is. She's so fuckin big. She competes with the movie version of the destiny's bounty, and makes the bounty from s5 look kinda payhetic. Minifigures are like bugs to h3r. Big Man, what I call the 6 legged ice dragon and who I previously thought was massive, looks small to her. She cannot be held in one hand. She barely fit on my shelf, and I am so glad they made her wings so posable . She is 25 inches long and has a wingspan of 29 inches (63 and 74 cm).

I understand now why yall have been drawing her as a big buff beautiful woman. Yall were RIGHT. I wanna draw her now too

The set itself is also just an absolutely wonderful set, she has great articulation and is incredibly sturdy, with pretty thick joints. The windage especially I think look great, even from the underside, which is a problem I've seen in other sets that have these fabric/vinyl wings. It was a ton of fun to build and took me maybe 5-6 hours though I didn't time it. 10/10 use of my day. A cool trick they did with her feet is to have these kind of silicone pieces on the bottom of her feet that stick out just a little, providing for much better grip and which I think is a wonderful idea. The other odd but nice thing they did was instead of one massive instruction book it was actually divided into 5 books, for the body, front legs, back legs, head wings and tail, and the saddle. There were multiple bags for each book but it provided really nice pausing points. Good job lego. Good set.

#i still love the preeminent #i swear #i have 2 hands #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragon #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago dragons rising season 2 #source dragon of motion #lego #lego set #ninjago lego set

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 11 months ago

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Alright, I took a quick nap and Ive decided that I wanna get the UTM reenactment over with as quickly as possible so Im reading chapter 42 and then I'll reward myself with some pain au chocolats and not thinking about this book for the rest of the day and watching the 2002 takarazuka flower troupe production of elisabeth instead. lets go

Chapter 42

here we fucking go with the illyrian wingspan-dicksize correlation, how would Amren even know that isnt she above sex or something. Honestly, I think Cassian would know wayyyyy more about that. on account of all the gay sex hes having i mean. I thought of that joke and then I realized that you could interpret it to mean that he knows about that because hes illyrian and has a dick, but I want to make it very clear that this is a gay sex joke

how come wings are so sensitive that just barely stroking them makes you moan and shudder but you can still fly with them in harsh winds with no issue. My headcanon is that wings arent actually that sensitive, Rhysand and Cassian are just weirdos with a specific kink

This conversation Feyre and Rhys are having about his wings is so weird, its like dirty and yet uncomfortably clinical

oh Rhysand is quicker than death just fucking kill me, im getting so angry again

Syphons are called 'Trichtersteine' ['funnel stones' or 'funnel gems'] in german which is more accurate to how we're actually told they work imo but it sounds pretty lame

Is it just me or is Rhysand being kinda weirdly paranoid rn. I mean granted, they did just get attacked with ash arrows so maybe hes actually doing a good job for once and Im just biased against him

Okay so we finally get some night court fae wearing white, but of course its not for moon symbolism its so they can blend in with the rock of the mountain because this series does nothing but disappoint me

The Hewn City actually sounds really cool, why couldnt this have been the secret city where we spend most of our time, you couldve made it a whole thing about Feyre healing from her trauma UTM through like, exposure therapy or something idk. That wouldve been neat and dramatic, her healing from her UTM trauma in the place that inspired it with the person that inflicted it. I mean, maybe that would be less healthy and even more controversial than Feysand already is but then you could atleast lean into the dark romance of it

I mightve said this already but you knowwww sjm is NOT a painter and consulted ZERO painters because Ive never heard of anyone think about creating art the way feyre does

and Mor is wearing red AGAIN why would you make this a trigger for Feyre just go back and edit it out its not like it matters

God, the description of her outfit is so deeply discomfortingl like it literally is exactly what she wore while she was being drugged assaulted but atleast they left the bodypaint out this time

"[Keir] looked at my face, then my body. I had thought that he would stare and drool greedily but... there was nothing. No emotion. Just ice cold. Shaking internally, - from anger and revulsion - I followed Mor." Im sorry, is she mad that Keir doesnt find her hot????

Theres something uncomfortable about Feyre referring to Rhysand as 'Mor's Lord' especially when we just had a whole paragraph describing her as a proud and empowered queen

"Usually, one Syphon was enough for an Illyrian to to able to steer his urge to kill down the right path." what???

Now shes describing Azriel as dark and beautiful as death and oughhhhhh i knoww im the only who cares about this and its for a pretty stupid reason but I care a lot and it makes me very angry

Feyre referring to a 19 year old Mor as 'barely more than a child' is weirdddddd

of COURSE hes wearing a black tunic for this, I cant believe this is the guy that the fandom has designated the fashion lover when he has two (2) outfits

Feyre describing Rhysand as sooooo powerful and beautiful with a face of nightmares and dreams makes me want to vomit, but more importantly, it makes me yearn to rewatch the 1996 takarazuka star troupe production of Elisabeth with Asaji Saki as Death who unirionically fits all of Feyres descriptors 1000 times better

Not Rhysand using Feyres Cursebreaker title while hes thoroughly humiliating her

Now Feyre is calling him a god, bro youre not gonna be able to have sex if you jack him off this hard hes gonna be all sore

Imagine being a hewn city noble and you all get together because your high lord wants something from you and youre kinda scared because hes the worst, and then you just have to watch him finger some random lady. and you cant leave because then he'll just kill you

I dont like that this is framed as empowering to Feyre, i think its one thing to write a female character who sexualises herself in order to empower herself but the fact that Feyre is doing this at the behest of Rhys automatically renders it non-empowering to me. Like yeah, she obviously consented to this but it wasnt her idea but this was not her idea and this is not something she usually does, the only times shes been sexualized like this is because it was part of some plan that Rhysand came up with

"[Keir] apparently clung to the power. But Rhys was the power." i hate that that sentence made me think of Keir/Rhysand as a ship why am I so goddamn yaoi-brained. And yeah, i know theyre related but according to Rhys himself, he and Mor are only cousins in the most distant sense, so. Man, that would make the IC dynamics so much more fucked up but also so much funnier

Theyre trying so hard to make this hot n sexy but its just so unappealing and dragged out. Granted, sorry if this is TMI, but I did just jerk off so Im all out of horniness for the next little while so maybe I just dont like this because Im not in the mood but idk. theres something so annoying about this, i think its how over-the-top and artificial Rhysands hotness feels, not to mention the fact that he is absolutely not my type

Imagine being Keir rn, just trying to do your job and tell your high lord everything that he needs to know, meanwhile his high lord is sitting in front of him fondling his new sex slave and you just have to keep a straight face. i mean, he sucks ass so i guess he deserves it but man

Presented to you with no further comment: "My breasts became heavy and full, longing, desiring, just like my crotch."

goddamnit, Rhysand just said that he put Feyre on his leash and then Keir made a kinda slutshame-y remark about her clothes and then I thought Rhys was like "maybe I'll put you on a leash too" but it was Feyre who said that. another loss for big gay incest

"He liked this as little as I did" uhhhhh no offense girlie but you actually seem to be having a pretty great time rn

I dont even know what to say about this part where Feyre is like, detaching herself from her thoughts that are calling her a traitor a liar and a whore ?? I think thats whats happening here?? Like, its trying so hard to be sexy but its invoking the imagery of Feyre's (and even Rhysand's) trauma and its just very strange

It took Rhys a fucking eternity to actually touch her pussy

What if Keir developed a voyerism kink because of this. would that be fucked up or what

Its so weird how Feyre thinks about how maybe Rhysand doesnt like sex or being desirable anymore because of amarantha and that certainly sounds like a trauma response he should have but instead it just never matters

"I had been tortured and tormented but my pain was nothing compared to his." YOU DIED

Oh man I cant believe I completely forgot about the absolutely iconic part where Rhysand gets so mad Keir for calling the woman he introduced as a whore a whore that he telepathically breaks his hand about it

what was the point of doing that, Feyre didnt even seem to like it that much

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti feysand #flames and darkness liveblog

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galactic-rhea · 3 months ago

Note

never thought about the vader + obiwan dynamic like that but damn. kind vibe. consider !! (or dont ur decision) if we were to tentatively tie it into the pre-existing canon that instead of the "vader wants to kill obiwan because he blames him and is therefore obsessed with killing him" it could be more. vader is obsessed with kill obiwan BECAUSE of his self-hatred and self-disgust. obiwan (and ahsoka. and rex. and luke and-) is one of the last pieces of Anakin Skywalker alive. he's a living reminder of that pain and who vader couldve been. so the obsession is less With obiwan, then with himself and it turns into this grotesque self-harming violence and obiwan is being sucked into by association. i could also see this applying to vader's fights with ahsoka and luke (the first one not the second). peace and love ur thoughts and art are golden ❤️

Woah thank you! <3

I haven't watched Rebels yet, so I have no idea how the Ahsoka vs Vader fight went (which is why I avoid so hard gifsets with Ahsoka and Anakin 😂😂) but it could be pretty accurate, I suppose!

With Vader, I usually remain on the notion that he's pretty much a husk of Anakin, he lacks any passion at all, like sure he's angry and furious most of the time, and annoyed, but it's like, instead of raging burning fury, it burns like how ice burns, is old and calculated and rootten and it leaves you numb to everything.

In the original trilogy he doesn't seem to deny thaaaaaat hard being Anakin, I mean he does, but like he's just so...idk, he's so "meh" about everything, nothing matters, like instead of going "THAT NAME MEANS NOTHING TO ME ANYMOREEEEEE!!!!" it's more like "-takes away Luke's lightsaber- That name means nothing to me anymore y'know."

"then my father is truly dead"

"ah"

Like he's almost bored, in fact when he kills Obi-Wan he does look almost bored like "wow, this is a lame fight, I'll end it quickly old master" and then he stomps on the robes when Obi-Wan's corpse disappear,,,,like a cat trying to catch a light pointer, and then he just leaves like "whatever idc why this body is gone, i've seen weirder stuff" NKJDFSNJDFSSD

He doesn't even care enough about his self-hatred to like, you know, do something about himself, or like, even kill himself because Palpatine probably doesn't let him die and because he believes he deserves the hell he lives him. He only mostly moves to carry on Palpatine's orders.

So that's mostly what I go by with him, if he's obssesed about anything, is when he learns about Luke, probably. If he wanted to rid off everything about 'anakin skywalker', you would think he wouldn't care about Luke that much because Luke very proudly takes on the name Skywalker (i would say agressively and stubbornly 😆) and he would rather not aknowledge anything about Padmé or why he turned to the dark side, which he probably doesn't admit outwardly, and probably tells himself he doesn't care, but internally is the very reason he hates himself.

He also kept Ahsoka's lightsaber, which, again, is he reaaally wanted to destroy everything that remained of his old life wouldn't fit (again, I haven't watched Rebels so idk if that's brought up in their fight)

He wanted to kill Obi-Wan mostly out of the fact he...kills anything opposing the empire, and the jedi are forbidden now and "I suppose I should want revenge and he's here now".

But yeah, I could see an AU where he does want to hunt down Obi-Wan and it's just an attempt to end what's left of Anakin, and feeling really empty and unchanged if he believes Obi-Wan dead (or actually manages to kill him before ANH timeline). Like there's just quiet silence, and he still feels the same, Anakin's still hasn't been destroyed, and then goes back to his usual misererable apathy.

#vader is like the extreme worse levels of depression just full on black apathy nothing matters nothing can make him care nothing at all #and even the hate for himself turns on apathy at himself which is arguably worse the only thing that keeps him alive is fucking damn Sheev #until sunshine farmer sonboy shows up (or moonshine princess daughtergirl in other AUs)#darth vader #obi wan kenobi #rambling #thanks for the ask!#rhea dissects the text

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blog-name-idk · 2 years ago

Text

The Plot Twist | 03

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 3: "I'm moving out."

You've never been a hypochondriac. Each time something strange and new occurred over the past week, you simply normalized it and moved on. But seven sevens mysteriously appearing on your skin the morning after your fever spell were admittedly too much, too eerie.

Something was definitely up.

So you went to the all-seer, the earthly keeper of scientific knowledge, the only place that could tell you what the hell was going on with concrete authority: NaverMD.

But then even you and NaverMD were stumped. Feeding your symptoms into the search engine reported a limited consensus of only two diagnoses. Dr. Naver, MD concluded that you either had a soulmate, or some extremely rare, spontaneous condition in which all your toenails will fall off and cause your eventual and sudden death.

Well, actually, no, the first diagnosis was cancer. But it always is, even when you're just constipated from too many snacks and too little fiber, so you discarded that one immediately.

Despite yourself, you found yourself leaning towards the worse of the two. Because somehow even the prospect of a bizarre, yet-unproven disease still seemed more believable than you having a soulmate.

And then you made your first mistake.

Oh, how simple life had been. You were just a wee child, trying to narrow down your suspicions, so young and naive. You never stopped to realize that some things were better left unknown, uncharted.

Like some theological figures before you, you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Too drawn by the serpentine lure of instant internet search results, you plugged "7 tattoo" into Naver. And now you must live with your decision.

Because smoldering at you from behind your suddenly hateable phone screen are seven men widely considered to be amongst Korea's national treasures.

The thus-far revealed tattoo locations match some of yours, and you try to stave away the sinking feeling that the remaining others are just as accurate. Because that would mean…

…That would mean…

You have a soulmate. Soulmates.

Seven soulmates… who happen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan.

And that’s the moment your mind breaks.

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It's fine. You're fine. You are handling recent revelations with utmost grace and dignity.

Or at least you are sticking your pinky up as you completely obliterate a tub of ice cream in panic. It takes all the poise you can muster. Understandably. And then you almost throw up all that processed dairy back up, your stomach churning too much for you to punish it with cookies and cream like your usual comfort mechanism.

Why is this happening? Why you? You're not some chosen one, and you've never wanted to be the main character in some lame k-drama or fanfiction.

Maybe this is a weird prank your mother concocted to punish you for completely ignoring her texts and forgetting your "obligations" – i.e. popping out grandchildren for her to coo over. And that, to her well-meaning if conservative outlook, requires a well-established partnership and romance at the minimum. Your father must have let slip that you've skipped all of the group dating events she's been spamming your family group-chat with.

Your caring, loving, ruthless mother has picked your worst nightmare and brought it to reality, all to teach you a lesson. To try to ensure that you find love before you reach hagdom at thirty and must be sent to live shrouded in the woods, away from decent, beautiful society. (Her words, despite the fact that she herself is quite a ways past that age. Not that you would ever point that out. You value your life.)

The thought calms you, and you decide to vacuum the feathers from the pillows you destroyed in a fit of rage and madness. You needed to buy new throw pillows, anyway.

The loud drone of the vacuum soothes you further. Of course, having more than one soulmate is possible, but extremely unlikely. Having seven? Who happen to be the some of the most famous people in the world? That is as statistically likely as you winning the lottery seven times in a row. Probably less, actually.

Pfft! Soulmates? Hah! Nice try, eomma.

You have to hand it to her, she really had you going there for a second. You chuckle to yourself as you turn off the vacuum and go to empty it in the trash. Noticing your kitchen trash is full, you tie it off and carry it downstairs to the garbage room.

You feel oddly pensive as you carry the bag down. Perhaps something about the odor of the two-day old kimchi jjigae leftovers emanating from the plastic is addling your brain, because despite your rationalization you now can't stop thinking about the concept of soulmates.

It seems like there's so much that goes into a partnership, even with pre-destined compatibility. Sure, your parents are soulmates and love each other very much, but that doesn't mean their marriage is perfect. The equilibrium, the joy, the easy comfort they find in each other now is the result of many years of growing both together and apart, of being their own individuals who have learned to fit into each other like puzzle pieces.

They are soulmates, but their happiness wasn't fated. Perhaps the universe contrived for them to meet, but their bond was forged by their own hands. They chose each other.

You can't imagine ever giving someone the keys to your heart and trusting them not to disappoint you.

Or trusting yourself not to disappoint them.

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On your way back to your floor, you’re surprised to see your landlord with a guest when you step into the building elevator.

“Oh, great timing! Say hello, this young man moving in at 8004, right next to you,” your landlord says.

Your new neighbor is decked out in a bucket hat and oversized sweater ensemble. You see the moon tattoo peeking out from the back of his sweater and gulp.

That… That can’t be Park Jimin… right?

A split second, and that’s when everything you have been avoiding clicks with the finality of a key turning in a lock.

The call with Mijin, the anomalies you’d experienced, the comical twist of your recent everyday life.

It wasn't a prank.

And despite all the very real and terrifying things your mother is capable of, surely this coincidence is beyond even her ability to machinate. Which can only mean one thing.

You do have soulmates, and the universe has begun plotting.

But you… you refuse to do this. You’re not a little girl that the world can tell to spin in her skirt and flutter her lashes. There are things worth fighting against, and these things are love and the eventual disappointment of finding out that the person you adored is fallible and rife with flaws. All the more so when it's an idol with a perfect shiny image to uphold.

Despite your earlier post-Naver meltdown, you now find yourself strangely calm. This is a do-or-die situation, and you have never been one to go down without a fight. Your will shall not be bent, no matter what anyone says about "fate."

You realize your new neighbor is peering at you curiously, and you staunchly avoid his gaze. Your hair falls in front of your face like you're Sadako from The Ring, because you don't want him to remember any identifying features. Your landlord looks confused at your silence, but says nothing, and an awkward silence envelops the cramped confines of the elevator.

When the elevator finally, finally dings open, you refuse to wait and walk with your companions like a normal person. To both your landlord and your – ugh – soulmate's shock, you power walk out of there like you're an ahjumma heading to the store on discount day. When you finally make it to your once-safe haven, your now forsaken sanctuary, you slam the door behind you.

With your heart thundering in your chest, you look in the mirror and take in frantic breaths.

You decide once and for all.

“Let’s not fall in love,” you tell yourself, the promising ferocity in your eyes a hand-me-down from your mother.

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Today is a good day, thinks Kim Jaehyung. The sun is shining, his wife is making his favorite oxtail soup for dinner, and he's finally managed to rent out the last vacant unit in his building. The new tenant is polite and, more importantly, has paid the entire lease up front without even needing any bank loans.

The only blip is his other tenant's odd behavior in the elevator, and the way you practically fled into your apartment. The new renter is a handsome young man – Jaehyung would have thought that a pretty girl about his age would have been happy to show him the ins and outs of the building. Though perhaps you needed to go to the bathroom – he's certainly had those moments.

"She's my neighbor?" the man asks, sounding curious, his gaze following the way you speed walk away from them.

"Yes! Right next door," Jaehyung replies, trying to remember the new tenant's name. He had just looked at the lease agreement, too! "She's normally very accommodating, so I'm sure the two of you will get along well."

As if to mock his statement, your door slams shut behind you. With a shrug, Jaehyung leads the renter – Park! That was it! Tenant Park! – to the door next to yours.

After showing Park-ssi his new apartment and handing him the keys, Jaehyung is in the elevator when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

You I'm moving out

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You're exhausted. You might have told your landlord you were moving, but finding a new place within your budget that doesn't come with charming qualities like decorative mold or live-in, six-legged pets is proving difficult on such short notice.

Why isn't Park Jimin of fucking BTS living in one of the more expensive areas of Seoul, anyway? Why would someone that rich and famous choose your cozy, decent little building? He's gentrifying your already gentrified neighborhood! You're too accustomed to the luxuries of upper-middle class life to be happy about being forced out.

So you've taken to leaving home absurdly early and working until late, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with your soulmate neighbor.

Despite your best efforts, you have somehow managed to end up alone in the elevator with Jimin. You were already inside, and he was running for the door looking so frazzled you didn't have the heart to press the close button on him. Curse the universe for taking advantage of your kind heart and gentle, amiable nature.

"Thank you," Jimin gasps, clearly out of breath. A bead of sweat trickles down from his temple, which you definitely do not notice. "I forgot my wallet."

He takes off his mask to breathe more easily, and you try to look anywhere but at his plump lips and the way his eyes squish when he smiles at you. The universe may have all manner of nefarious powers at its beck and call, but that smile might be the deadliest weapon of all.

"No problem," you mutter, hoping he never sees you again and yet also wishing you had used more eye cream today. Thankfully, the elevator is fast, but as the door dings open somehow Jimin keeps pace with you.

"We didn't get a chance to formally meet," he says cheerfully, somehow keeping stride with you despite your best efforts to break the world record for fastest casual walk. "I'm Jimin. What's your name?"

The simple, completely normal question makes you panic. You've reached your door and you gaze longingly at the handle, dreaming of the safety that beckons on the other side. So near, but so far.

You unlock it, and realize he's paused next to you, awaiting your response. That violently sweet smile is still on his face, and you find yourself staring dazedly at him for a moment before snapping out of it.

You need to exit this situation. Immediately.

You open the door and look him dead in the eye. "I don't talk to strangers."

Swiftly stepping inside, you close the door firmly behind you and try not to dwell on the fact that he is just as beautiful with his mouth hanging open.

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Jimin stares in shock at the closed door in front of him, wondering what on earth he did wrong. He just wants to be on friendly terms with his neighbors – well, especially the pretty one – but you seem to be avoiding him like the plague.

Maybe you're shy? Or slow to trust? Jimin doesn't think he's been doing anything threatening or overly familiar – certainly nothing to warrant the way you almost flee whenever you see him.

Then again, he's not a single (well, not that he knows whether you're single or not, but you seem to live alone, and haven't had any visitors of any gender despite being quite attractive, not that he's spent that much time thinking about whether or not you are single or anything) young woman living alone, so perhaps his judgment is biased.

Maybe he just needs to try harder! Show you that he really does have good intentions. Or would that be creepy?

It's been so long since anyone has treated him like this – just a regular, pesky person – that he can't help but be endeared.

And intrigued.

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These days even the temporary security personnel know your name. They know to expect you putting in overtime, but for today’s working hours you’ve completely outdone yourself.

It's late. Late enough that even for a workaholic Korean, you're the last one out of the office. You begin to make the trek to the train station, grabbing your keys from your oversized purse in case any weirdos try to follow you. Though then again, your bag itself could probably be a decent weapon – your building was updating and refreshing all of the first-aid stations, and so you have a bulky, metal kit weighing you down.

It would be kind of funny, actually, if you were able to injure someone with a first-aid kit. Something, something, irony.

You smile, mildly amused at the thought, but it quickly fades when you see a figure slumped on a bench at the bus stop. It looks to be a man, dressed in torn clothing, and when he shifts you see bruises littering his skin. His hair and eyes are hidden by the brim of a black baseball cap, and his features are otherwise also covered by a black mask, and you wonder if his face is also in bad shape.

You make your way closer, the kit weighing heavily in your purse, because you're an idiot who can't leave well enough alone.

"Do you need help?" you ask carefully, standing just slightly far away in case this is a violent person who's going to lunge at you. The man looks up in surprise, and you feel your lunch try to make a resurgence.

Because staring back at you with a black eye is Min Yoongi of BTS.

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Yoongi exhales and slumps forward on the bench outside the photoshoot location, wondering why he's been feeling so off lately. It's not quite the same as the depression slumps he's used to – rather than numbness, it just feels like something is missing.

The only time the feeling recedes is at night, when the ghost of that strange lullaby whispers at the edges of his mind. Yoongi's put the basic melody to paper, but he can't get it quite right. Every time he tries, it's like some note eludes him, flitting out of reach just before he can grasp them.

"Do you need help?"

Yoongi almost jumps before looking up to see a prim, well-dressed woman gazing at him in a mixture of suspicion and concern. Your eyes widen at his face, and he can register the exact moment you realize who he is.

Fuck.

You look horrified, which is not the expression he's used to seeing from fans. You take a step back, half turning as if to run. Also not something that typically happens.

Yoongi should leave, return to the photoshoot, find his manager and tell him he's been spotted in case damage control is needed. Instead he finds himself strangely spellbound, staring as your jaw clenches and your eyes close. You set your shoulders as if steeling yourself for war and turn back to him.

You reach into your purse and he tenses, ready to hide his face for when you inevitably pull out your phone to try to take a picture of him with fake bruises all over his face.

To his utter bemusement, instead of a phone, you pull out a metallic-looking case and toss it at him without warning. Yoongi is too taken aback to do anything other than watch it clatter to the ground.

"What the–" he begins, but you whip back around before he can finish and take off as fast as your heels allow. "...Fuck?"

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As far as obnoxious things the universe has thrown at you go, this one isn't so bad.

That's what you tell yourself as you stare at the very shiny, very pointy looking knife being brandished in your face in the alley you use as a shortcut home.

At least it's not a soulmate.

"There's no one here to rescue you, little girl," this apparent mugger gloats, and for a moment you actually feel a little flattered. Little girl? Really? At twenty-five? That's downright polite, honestly.

"Huh? Is everything okay back there?" calls a strangely familiar voice, making the both of you freeze. Thanks to your recent frantic googling and research, you recognize it surprisingly quickly, and you gasp and look your assailant dead in the eye.

"Kill me. Right now," you order, your voice leaving no room for argument. The maniacal glint leaves your attacker's gaze and he stares at you in confusion. And perhaps a little fear.

"Uh, what?"

"Fucking do it, bitch," you hiss, casting your gaze frantically behind him to see if the owner of the voice is coming to investigate. You point at your chest, where you assume your heart probably is. If you have one. "Right here."

"What the fuck, no, I just want your money?" he says in bewildered tones, beginning to back away from you. You hear footsteps from behind him, and panic begins to set in.

"DID I FUCKING STUTTER?" you screech, wanting your attacker to just hurry the fuck up already. Seriously if he wasn't prepared to stab someone why the hell is he waving around a knife? What a little bitch. This is the problem with youth these days – all talk and no follow-through.

"You know what, fuck it, just go," the guy finally says, dropping the knife to the floor. "This is too much for me. I should have just gone to trade school like my mom wanted."

"Whatever dude," you say with a shrug, taking the opportunity to gear up and sprint out of the alley. You pass a confused looking Kim Taehyung, and pat yourself on the back for avoiding another contrived situation the universe tried to force onto you. It can take its cosmic intervention theory and shove it up its black hole where the stars don't shine.

Unfortunately you don't realize that to Taehyung, time slows as you run by. The scent of your hair, the silhouette of your lips… he is utterly captivated. He can't help but to peek into the alley to see where you were coming from, and is surprised to see a masked man just standing there, staring blankly at the ground. Metal glints, and he's shocked to realize that it's not the ground that has drawn the man's attention, but a knife.

"Yeah, I'm not cut off for this," he hears the guy mumble as he kneels down to pick up the weapon. Taehyung tenses, unsure of what to do, only for the man to toss it into a dumpster. "I… I should go apologize to mom."

Had this man tried to attack that girl? Taehyung's fist clenches at the thought, an uncharacteristic flare of anger lighting his chest. Then it relaxes as it dawns on him that you must have talked the man down. Not just talk him down, but give up on his supposed path of crime entirely.

So not just beautiful, but intelligent too. Empathetic. You probably love animals, because he can already tell you're perfect.

For days after, he can't get the strange girl out of his head, or the smell of your flowery shampoo out of his nose.

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You should have known. You should have fucking known.

"Eomma," you say carefully, lest you invite another scolding from your mother that leaves you equal parts guilty and offended. "This is a very strange place for auntie's birthday."

She purses her lips, managing to look simultaneously irritated with you and pleased with herself, and shoves you forward.

You sigh, resigned, and begin to walk inside the building with slumped shoulders, heels clicking morosely beneath your feet. Until the very pointed throat clearing behind you automatically straightens your spine in a lecture-induced response you have never been able to shake.

"Are you here for the dating event?" chirps the far-too-chipper woman at the front desk, face brightening at the appearance of such a lovely attendee. You force a smile in response, glancing over your shoulder to see that yes, your mother is still watching outside with her arms crossed.

You send her a wave that just makes her tap her foot impatiently. With a sigh, you turn around and nod.

"Yes," you respond with all the joy of a human sacrifice walking to their doom. "I guess I am."

The employee beams at you and pushes forward a form for you to fill out. When you check the box indicating that you indeed have been experiencing soulmate phenomena, because you're an idiot who can't lie even to save yourself, her smile grows even wider.

"It's so great that you're taking initiative," she gushes, oblivious to the way you are now grinding your teeth. "Some people think cosmic intervention will take care of everything, and never end up meeting their soulmate!"

God, goddesses, saints and shamans, whoever the fuck, you think silently. That is literally all I want.

For a moment the image of two spinsters laughing at your pain flashes through your mind, but it's gone before you can really register what happened. What you do notice is that your mother has left.

"Oops, I think I left my ID in my car," you say with a smile suddenly much more genuine than before. "I'll be right back."

The poor, unsuspecting attendant just nods, and you're out the door and around the corner just as a black Palisade rolls up to the building.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The store owner blinks in surprise at your appearance. It's broad daylight, and most of his customers are kids and teenagers. Grown adults don't tend to come here, other than the idol who thinks he's sneaky and the tired salarywoman who –

"Hey, Lee-ssi!" you greet cheerfully, sliding your game card out of your dainty purse. "Is there a new score for me to beat today?"

Lee Seungwon blinks again. You're wearing a sleek maroon dress that ends right above your knees, your hair is coiffed, you smell like a field of flowers instead of burnt coffee, and your face is powdered to perfection.

"[L/N]-ssi?" he asks tentatively. It looks like you. It sounds like you. But he wants to make sure, because you look far too perky for someone dressed like they're supposed to be on a date.

"Yes?" you reply, looking just as confused as he feels. "Is something wrong?"

"Er, no," he replies, accepting the game card from your manicured hand. "The usual? 2,000W?"

You grin and nod, prancing off to the Pacman machine with a bounce to your step.

Seungwon feels a strange sense of foreboding.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Seokjin is the best hyung. Obviously. He's handsome, he's funny, he cooks, he takes care of his brothers, and even drives them to speed-dating events that are objectively a terrible idea.

In fact, he's such a great hyung that instead of returning immediately home, he deserves a little bit of fun. So he heads to a familiar little establishment. Seokjin's managed to re-establish his place as number one in Pacman, but it can't hurt to fill up the leaderboard even more and show that immature punk who's boss.

The fact that he is a grown man in a silent war with a child over an arcade game wooshes gently over his fluffy hair.

Lee-ssi's eyes widen in surprise when Jin walks in, and the idol follows the dart of the elderly man's gaze to see a maroon dress and a very shapely backside. He stifles a sigh when he realizes it is parked right in front of the Pacman machine, and that he likely can't even ask the woman to hurry up lest she recognize him.

Then he realizes that she is inputting a name on the high score screen.

Right above his.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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whimsicalcotton · 4 months ago

Note

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long.

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle.

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room.

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine.

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake.

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume.

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for.

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other.

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier.

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?”

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

#behold. my silly nickname headcanons sjfksjhfksj #thank u again i had a lot of fun w this. i'm also love them really much your honor #nova answers #nova writes

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yunarim · 2 years ago

Text

「 ☕️ ⊹ summary 」 : apparently you have a new regular customer in a cafe you work part-time at. though you wonder why that certain someone always glances your way and smiles every time you voice his name when his coffee is ready…

— ⋆ characters : ace, epel, floyd, silver — ⋆ tags : gn reader, fluff, reader is yuu but they work as a barista at a nearby cafe

「 Ace Trappola 」

At first you didn’t want to announce that you’ve managed to escape dependence on your so-called parent (Crowley that would be) who didn't give you pocket money at all. The reason is that well… congrats on having a part-time job so you can spoil your besties with that limited melon buns in the cafeteria!

Yeah, now you have some amount of money but still it’s enough just for you to buy food for yourself and provide Grim with tuna cans so that he doesn’t annoy you much.

And while you were managing to hide this fact you knew you wouldn't last long with your friends.

“Hey, are you free today?” Ace would ask you often.

“Right, we’re having an unbirthday party, come with us.” Deuce would add.

“Sorry guys, I need extra studying with how often Grim distracts me… Maybe another time.”

Extra studying, my ass, Ace once thought and decided he should check on you in case you’re doing something illegal. You surely weren't but hey, he was genuinely worried for you! (definitely not interested as hell, not that)

He found you heading to a city centre and entering a fancy-looking cafe which got popular not so long ago.

He entered too a few minutes after, seeing you adjusting something on the shelves and saying a sweet ‘welcome!’ as you heard someone enter.

Ace got used to you regaining composure whenever you were doing assignments or concentrating on midterm tests but somehow the way your gaze lingered on coffee beans and cute cupcakes was still sharp but more… gentle?

“What would you like to- Oh.”

It wasn’t shocking to see him here. You knew it would happen one day, but today? Not after that hellish history test you’ve managed to survive, not to mention you just had to take a night shift today.

“Anything our cute secretive prefect would recommend,” he grinned at you rolling your eyes.

“Alright, just wait a second, I’ll call your name when it’s ready.”

Unfortunately, you were having a lot of customers that day so he couldn’t really chat with you. And if you actually thought he would just check on you and let you work peacefully (or not really), Ace knew the possibility of him turning into a coffee-addict wasn’t so distant anymore.

“Ace, your ice latte is ready.”

At first he counted how many times a week he visited the cafe you worked at and now it was absolutely pointless, given he was completely lost in his thoughts.

You just had to pronounce his name so cutely, huh?

Yo wait, cutely? For real?

Nah, no way. The way you smiled every time he walked in, raising his voice and calling you by some lame nicknames, always different every day he decided to drop by and have a little chat with you, wasn’t delightful to witness, too. No way.

“Hey, it’s already late. Not that I’m worried about you being scolded by Riddle or something, but it’s just strange seeing you studying in a cafe like a diligent student you aren’t. Let’s go together.”

Shit, he thought, closing his copybook and realizing he had done all the homework he had for two weeks forward.

Shit, he thought when you closed the cafe and took off your apron.

Somehow you, wearing not the school uniform in which he saw you every day in college, but in casual clothes made him blush a little, realizing something he couldn’t admit at first.

Ace in his dorm room at 3 am: Sevens forgive me for being so shamelessly cringe lovestruck.

Ace today when he orders his ice latte: that's for your boyfriend Ace, please.

You: you’re so dumb I like that in men.

「 Epel Felmier 」

He didn’t know himself how he even managed to sneak out to the city centre without Vil noticing but finally he could eat something that wasn’t plain vegetable salads full of something oh so healthy and nutritious… whatever.

Okay, cool. This sortie into the city was planned during long sleepless nights with Epel exploring a ton of reviews about new cafes that opened nearby recently.

Good old fast food was something he tried eating already so it was out of his choice for today, moreover he wanted to know what kind of coffee shops metropolises have and what kind of drinks and cupcakes they could offer.

Today was the day, and after taking photos and getting souvenirs for grandma he finally found the cafe he had chosen for today’s observation.

A warm cozy atmosphere enveloped him, who was tired by the evening, and pleasant relaxing music helped regaining calmness after an eventful day.

“Good evening,” you greeted him and smiled gently. “What would you like to order?”

Maybe he got why this cafe has the best reviews. How could it not when the barista is so cute and friendly?

He didn’t know how other baristas behave but he was sure they were completely out of your league. Really, why are there no drinks named after your smile? That’s a crime.

“Uh… latte maybe? With a lavender syrup.”

“Latte with a lavender syrup coming right up. Your name please?”

“Epel.”

“Alright, Epel, I’ll call you when it’s ready!”

Shit, you’re literally shining with a golden glow around you, that’s illegal!

Once you called him he knew he gotta find a decent reason to sneak out more so that he could see you again.

“Rook, help me, it’s urgent. Take me to the city centre without Vil noticing, I’ll repay you somehow. Wanna some apple juice maybe?”

Good for him Rook knew by one glance his underclassman got lovestrucked heavily and what a great news it was!

Epel didn’t know (nor didn’t he wanted to) what exactly Rook said to Vil but now he got a strong reason to visit the cafe he met you.

Okay, so today he definitely must ask for your number or something.

He was already drowning in dreams of you two talking over the phone, you still working during the night and he hiding under the blanket from Vil and almost whispering to you and discussing little nothings and-

Ah, grandma’s calling. He answered her and explained where he’s heading to.

“Yeah, yeah, that cafe,” he replied, rolling his eyes at her curious tone. “Yes, the one with that cute barista. Yeah, grandma, I’ll ask. Yeah, yeah.”

He entered and met your soft gaze. You waved at him in a friendly way, recognizing him and he almost melted.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, noticing he was talking over the phone, and he nodded, greeting you as well. “Lavender latte as usual?”

“Alright, I’m busy, grandma, call you later,” he tried to hang up the phone but suddenly even you heard her reply.

“Sure sure, don’t forget to ask them out already!”

Beep beep beep and you and Epel remain completely silent.

“Aargh this is not what you think, I can explain!-”

“Really? I was planning on asking you out too actually.”

You when Epel called his grandma after your shift was over: discussing when the wedding would be.

Epel: cringing hard but smiling like an idiot, holding your hand and drinking his lavender latte.

「 Floyd Leech 」

Dig around what’s with that new menu our competitors have, Azul said. It would be a good intel, Azul said.

Boring! Why not Jade? He was much better at gathering info anyway.

But still Jade advised he should look for merits everywhere, so Floyd actually decided to listen to his brother and decided he could at least mess up someone’s business so this trip would be fun.

He entered the cafe Azul told him about and approached a barista, throwing a curious grin at them and giggling.

“Good morning!” You said with a beaming smile and adjusted your name badge. “What can I get for you?”

Bonus points for your sunny smile. Floyd tried to imagine Azul or Jade smiling like that and almost roared with laughter at how silly this thought was. They lack cuteness! Not that they had it in the first place and nor they should have had it, but still it’s interesting seeing someone smiling so genuinely at a stranger!

“Something warm and extremely sweet~” he leaned on the table and observed your features shamelessly, finding it amusing that you still remained so bright and friendly. “It’s so cold outside!”

“Alright! What’s your name?”

“Floyd,” he replied.

You wanted to get his drink ready but suddenly heard your boss calling for you. You apologized and quickly went to a staff room. Floyd didn’t mind waiting for a little, considering you’ve piqued his interest and not to even mention you were so adorable! So small and lively, it was so refreshing to see someone so vivacious. Bonus points: obtained!

Hmm~ You came back with an irritated frown on your face. Floyd wondered what happened.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” you said and turned to the coffee machine, gathering ingredients and starting making his drink, but just as he was about to chat with you a bit more, you were called once more.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized once more, quickly retreating to the staff room again.

Your facial expression was so unbelievably funny when you returned. Floyd couldn’t contain his laugh at how fast and professionally you switched between being a little lovely sunshine and furious raging harpy cursing your boss under your breath.

“Your drink, Floyd. I’m really sorry…”

“No worries~” He took the drink from you and took a sip. My my, you knew exactly what you were doing, your skills were incredible! Bonus points definitely. “See ya tomorrow!”

“Ah? Yes, see you.”

Floyd wondered whether he could add bonus points for your puzzled expression or would it be too much already.

Next day Floyd convinced Azul he needs more time to make a report. And the day after. And the next week too.

One day you greeted him not with that sweet smile of yours but with a sad sigh and forced laugh and Floyd thought he could beat the shit out of your boss for making you so gloomy.

“Here,” he blinked at how a cup of cappuccino appeared before him. “Take it as a compensation for always hearing me out.”

Jeez, were you serious! So many bonus points just didn’t exist.

Floyd when he decided to have a little chat with you for a few minutes and your boss shouted again: you know what, work for us. At least Azul doesn’t scream like that. Well, maybe he does sometimes, but he's cute. Not as cute as you though!

Azul when he was supposed to receive a report and eliminate his rival cafe: excuse me?

You being squeezed by Floyd: nice to meet you.

「 Silver 」

When kids are taught that two times two is four Silver realized coffee doesn’t help to remain awake.

Still, Lilia decided it wouldn’t hurt to try and suggested Silver drink coffee in the mornings, and maybe it was just a self-hypnosis but Silver found himself staying awake for fifteen minutes longer if he had a cup of strong americano in the morning.

Getting to the city and grabbing a fancy coffee before lessons was his motto, so that almost all baristas knew who he was and just how strong his coffee should be.

You didn’t, though, at least due to the fact that you started working not so long ago.

You saw an extremely handsome boy entering a cafe and was so dumbstruck with how charmingly he looked that you didn’t notice his rather inert movements.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” You greeted him, smiling brightly as usual.

“Hm… Something strong. Americano would do.”

“Okay! And your name is?”

He glanced at you and realized you were someone who he saw for the first time. Usually other baristas are already aware and don’t even ask his name anymore.

Meanwhile you were trying your best not to scream at how insanely beautiful his eyes were glimmering in dim cafe lights.

“It’s Silver.”

You gave him his coffee when it was done and he thanked you. After he left you found yourself spacing out, the image of that cute boy popping up in your head randomly, and you thought you were seeing things when he came once more by the evening.

“Good evening, Silver.”

“Oh,” he replied. “You’re quite quick with remembering names, I presume.”

It’s just your name’s so lovely, how could I not, you thought almost voicing it out loud, but you just smiled instead.

“Americano once more, please.”

This time he didn’t go straight away but sat near the window and opened his textbooks. You assumed he was doing his homework and concentrated on serving other customers.

It was already late when you spotted Silver sleeping at the table, textbook pages wrinkled under his cheeks, and you approached him. He felt your gentle touch on his shoulder and slowly opened his eyes, meeting with your tender gaze full of worry.

Were you concerned about him falling asleep here? Maybe you really were but why then was he so happy to see such genuine worry in someone’s eyes which were so incredibly pretty, by the way… What was he even thinking?..

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you closing up?”

“Don’t be,” you sighed, giving him a cup of what he thought would be coffee but the green tea flavor was too strong to mistake it for coffee. “I think you should drink herbal tea instead of coffee actually. Here, on the house.”

Silver thought if heart eyes were real, you could see them right now just with one look at him.

Lilia almost freaked out seeing Silver drinking sea buckthorn tea the next morning and chatting with someone over the phone.

Lilia: wrong sticker, use this instead.

Sticker: two kissing kittens.

Silver: dad what the-

Lilia: they replied~

You: omg you know how to use stickers i’m delighted 🫶🫶🫶🫶💗💗💗

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ace x reader #epel x reader #floyd x reader #silver x reader

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wolfofcelestia · 9 months ago

Text

Welcome! Now that this blog has been fully converted into a Zayne loveblog, I've finally decided to make an actual introduction.

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻

My name is Elara (she/her). I am an adult and will be posting adult content. Minors, blank blogs, art theives, and toxic people will be blocked

Most of what I write here will be about fictional boys voiced by Satou Takuya

Most of my analysis posts are usually very stream of conscious-y because I never stop thinking about this stupid ice man

Sylus will also appear on my blog. He's settled in as my second favourite so he will be around too

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻

I write when my brain allows me to. Most of what you'll see here are short clips of dialogue, headcanons, scenarios, and scenes in the style of LADS's social media posts. These snippets tend to be comedy, fluff, smut, angst, and occasional dark content

Got a request? Feel free to drop an idea in my askbox. No guarantees it will get filled, though

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓨𝓾𝓶𝓮𝓳𝓸𝓼𝓱𝓲 💙❤️🩵

This blog is my self-indulgent yumejoshi (self-insert) safe space, with my F/Os being Shokudaikiri Mitsutada and Rei.

I am extremely sappy and sentimental. Also extremely thirsty. I am parched. Dehydrated. I just have a lot of feelings for these boys. If you have a problem with that, feel free to block or unfollow me. You don't need to be in my space.

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮

Thanks for stopping by and reading this far! There's more information about my name and Rei under the cut below for the curious.

Feel free to have a look around and interact with me whenever you like! I’d love to hear what you think of my ideas.

All of my writing can be found in my blog directory.

Quick tags:

─── ･*☆･ﾟ Zayne, Dawnbreaker, Foreseer, Master

─── ･*☆･ﾟ Scenarios, Headcanons, Poems

─── ･*☆･ﾟ Vampire AU, LADS Soundtrack, Zayne Tier Lists

─── ･*☆･ﾟ Hunter's Diary, Glint Photos

─── ･*☆･ﾟ Zayne Favourites, Sylus Favourites

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓪

A rough translation of my Saniwa username: 天狼星

This is the star Sirius, which roughly translates to "heavenly wolf star" in Chinese/Japanese.

I wanted a daimyou-style title for my saniwa self-insert, so it turned into Wolf of Celestia.

Don't be fooled by the name, though. I'm actually just a smol wet puppy burdened with feelings for boys who don't exist.

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼

“Elara” is the name of one of Jupiter's moons. In Greek mythology, she is a mortal princess with an unfortunately lame story. But I liked the sound of the name so I kept it.

The pronunciation on wikipedia is EL-ara. I also accept el-ARA.

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓪𝔀𝓷

You may have noticed that I call him Rei in some posts and Zayne in other posts. Sometimes even in the same post, like this one. This is a very deliberate choice.

I first learned of his existence from Satou Takuya retweeting one of the promo videos for the game before it was released, so even before Day 1, I knew him as Rei. (And I was downbad for him without even knowing a thing about him.)

He is still Rei to me and always will be, but for ease of communication, I call him Zayne.

Long story short,

I call him Zayne when:

I'm referring to his character in general

I'm writing something meant for the rest of tumblr to reblog or engage with

I call him Rei when:

I'm referring to "My Rei", the Rei in my game, and the F/O of my yume ship.

─── Usually used in personal posts about my sappy feelings, not really meant to be engaged with

I'm referring to the character who is voiced by Satou Takuya and speaks Japanese.

─── Usually used to comment on SatoTaku's voice work specifically

─── ･*☆･ﾟ: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼

In my scenarios, I usually put dialogue and emphasized words in certain colours

MC is red because… put simply, that’s my colour

Zayne is always blue

Foreseer is always purple

Master is always green

But because tumblr is mostly in dark mode and I’m too lazy to add colours that aren’t on the default options, Dawnbreaker is usually red

Because if he were to choose a colour, it would always be hers

The only time Dawnbreaker isn’t in red is when MC is in the same scenario. In those cases, Dawnbreaker is the default text colour, relinquishing his colour to her

Because he would choose to be empty if it meant he could stay with her for just a little longer

That's all for now! I'll keep this updated if I need to add more links or information.

Final note: Yes my whole aesthetic is space and stars. Yes, my main is 10000% Rei LMAO I am so sorry Seiya

Dividers by saradika-graphics, cafekitsune

#introduction #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace

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frierengf · 1 year ago

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how will i know -- choso x reader

— you get dumped. its awful and it fucking hurts. you do your best to pick up the pieces of your heart on your own, but find that the trail of tiny red hot shards lead somewhere you wouldn’t expect.

wc : 9 065 [chp1 + epilouge] | ao3 [tags & notes]

-- chp1

”Can you just fuck off already?” The words have been ringing through your head since last night, echoing and repeating, ad infinitum. It’s exhausting. You barely slept a wink, and you’re sure your eyes are both puffy and dark. You couldn’t find it in yourself to go to your classes, having stayed in your bed for most of the day. Your phone is laying next to you, screen open on your unread texts to him, music playing quietly. A small ping interrupts the music, and you sluggishly reach for your phone, holding it to your face. — From : Choso :-) <- Hey, just so you know, Yuuji is coming over later! Is there anything you want me to get from the grocery store? To : Choso :-) -> ah cool -> some ice cream maybe? chocolate if they have it, but any kind is fine. a bottle of coke too please :] i think were almost out of garlic but i can get actual groceries some time later this week From : Choso :-) <;- Okay! I’ll be home in about an hour :-) — It was in fact, not ah cool. While you’ve lived with Choso for almost a year now, and you’ve met his younger brother Yuuji a handful of times, you’d rather die than be seen by either of them in your current state. It’s not that your room is messy, because it isn’t. Almost everything is as you left it when you went out to see him yesterday, except your purse hanging off your desk chair. Besides, you seriously doubt Choso or Yuuji would even see your room, so it’s more yourself that you’re worried about. You feel… disgusting? Like a mess? Revolting? Any adjective with a negative connotation, really. In reality, you probably look fine. Decent. Acceptable. But in your twisted illusion, you can feel the words you vomited out sticking to your body, the tears you shed ingrained into your cheeks, the burning oil of his words spilled on you, tainting your entire existance. It’s not that deep, the snarky voice in your head comments. It was just a lame college relationship, and it was bound to end sooner or later. But it wasn’t just a lame college relationship. You’d been together for three years. Even if he didn’t love you, or even like you anymore, aren’t you owed more than filth, thrown in your face? You sit on your bed, frozen in thought, playing with your bracelet. It feels cold between your finger tips, and you sigh. You need to shower, brush your teeth, remove your makeup, put on normal clothes. Maybe make your bed and do the dishes for good measure. Standing up, you shed your clothes from last night, and grab a towel from your closet. Shower first, everything else later. As you stand at the edge of the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, you plan the coming hour in your head. You have approximatively 50 minutes until Choso is home, and probably an extra 20 until Yuuji arrives. Shower for 30, plenty of time to wallow in self pity, and actually clean yourself up. 2 minutes to brush your teeth, 10 to do an indepth facial cleanse. 8 minutes to pick an outfit that says I am fine. 20 minutes to help Choso unpack groceries, and then do the dishes like the helpful roommate you are. After that, you can retreat to your room to do whatever you want. A perfect plan. After the water has heated up, you stand under the spray, cleansing yourself. You’d like to think you don’t know why you have this inane need to seem well put together in front of your roommate and his 15 year old brother, both of which you’re probably never going to see again after college, but in reality, you know the cause down to a T. It’s an awful habit, there’s no denying it. You’re unsure where it stems from, all you know is that you don’t like it. Self worth is hard to have and even harder to find, you think. So, you simply seek it from wherever possible. Validation, affirmation, appreciation. From your mom, your sisters, your teachers, your friends, strangers on the strees, or even the afformentioned roommate and his brother. It definetly doesn’t help to have been dumped the night before, but alas, there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do about that.

Walking away with a scoff, leaving you to pay for the drinks, ignoring your calls and texts. He doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore. It fucking hurts, of course it does, but what are you supposed to do about it? It’s not like he will appear out of the blue and give you actual closure, so all you can do is try to move on yourself. As you step out of the shower, you wipe the steam off of the mirror. You feel clean. Or at least cleaner. While you brush your teeth, you glance at the small clock that’s standing on the shelf by the door. 5 minutes ahead of schedule. You nod at yourself in the fogged up mirror. I can do this. Can you? I can. I’ve been through worse. Have you? You spit. Spit out the toothpaste, spit at the snide voice in your head, spit at the image of him. You have been through worse, and as cliché and corny as it sounds, you are a strong, independant woman. You wash your face. Cleanse the tears, cleanse the touches, caresses and kisses he had given you, before throwing it all back at you, like both you and the affection he had once shown you was dirt, not even worthy of being stepped on. You resent him. Despise him. It’s unfair, you think, as you walk back to your room. How come he gets to keep living normally, while you don’t? How come you have to crawl through hell and back, and he gets to swagger off into the night, never to be seen again? It’s unhealthy, you think, you know. The smothering, the pushing down of your emotions, the twisted mess of sadness turning into rage. It’s bound to come back and bite you in the ass. You flick through your closet. A tank top and jeans. Normal. Fine. You pull on your clothes, before standing in front of your mirror. Acceptable. Charming maybe? Friendly. Normal girl, who didn’t go through the second worst heartbreak of her life last night. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you frown. You think Choso might know what happened last night. He wasn’t friendly with him exactly, but they’d met about as many times as you’ve met Yuuji. He most likely did not text your roommate that you’d just gotten dumped, but Choso knew of his existance. Your shoes have been in the entryway since you came home last night, but even if he didn’t notice that, it’s an undeniable fact that he heard you sobbing as you came home, sobbing as you laid in bed, and sobbing as he left for class.

You know Choso heard you, because you’ve heard him. Talking to himself while he works on his art projects, the muted voices from a show or movie, discussions with friends. You’ve heard it all, and your crying was definetly louder than all of those, probably combined. Besides, if your roommate leaves home, dressed up and excited to meet her boyfriend, and comes home later, hysterically sobbing and alone, what else could’ve happened? If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. Duck in question being a miserable and heartbroken 20-something. Your frown has grown in to a scowl. Angry, bitter, hurt. Because you are. As much as you try to convince yourself that you’re fine, you’re not. As much as you want to move on right away, quicker than he can, you can’t. The apartment door opens, and you startle slightly. ”I’m home.” Chosos voice almost echoes through the silent apartment, and you rush out to the common area. ”Welcome home.” His gaze flicks up to you, and you smile slightly, nearly breathless. ”Hi,” he says, breaking eye contact to focus on untying his shoes. ”Hey,” you reply, eyes still focused on him. ”Thanks for getting groceries. I’ll put them away. I can do the dishes too.” Choso looks back up at you from the small bench he’s sitting on. He’s frowning, just slightly. ”Are you okay?” Your eyes widen, and you let out a tense laugh. ”Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” His frown grows, almost turning… pitiful? Compassionate? You don’t know. ”It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, especially with me, but pretending everything is fine won’t do you any good.” You flinch. Read like a book. ”Well, sitting around in my room and crying won’t do me any good either,” you mutter, reaching for the bag. You hear him sigh. ”It might. Good release of emotion and all that.” ”I don’t know if you heard, but I did plenty of emotion releasing last night. I think I’ve probably dried up for the coming year, so.” You walk in to the kitchen, starting to unpack the bag onto the counter. Choso trails after you. ”I heard. I’m sorry for not coming to check on you, wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.” ”It’s fine,” you say, putting the groceries away. ”Probably for the best. Would’ve been a real pain in your ass.” ”I wouldn’t have minded,” Choso mumbles from where he’s leaning against the counter.

You look at him. Try to read him like he read you. He looks earnest. Truthful. Caring. His gaze is warm, but it still makes you shiver. It’s not that he’s making you uncomfortable. If anything, he’s making you too comfortable. You’re not blind. Choso is handsome. Silky dark hair, deep brown eyes that seem to shine violet when the sun hits them just so, charming scar across his nose. Tall, strong, and kind. He’s entrancing, and it makes a clump settle in your throat. He had never liked Choso, but you’d always just assumed it was a childlike jealousy, born from having his girlfriend live with another man. Maybe it was more than that. You feel too comfortable, too soon. It’s staggering. You turn your head, staring out at the small balcony, and the city that lies beyond. ”I… it’s,” you sigh. ”It’s complicated Choso. There are too many emotions and-” ”I know.” ”I don’t want to be a bother to you. I can barely handle it so-” ”Then let me help you.” You look back at him. His eyebrows are furrowed. He looks sad. Sad because you are, not because he feels what you feel. You try to swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat. ”Let me help you,” he repeats. ”Just because it’s hard, or complicated, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to rely on other people.” ”It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, forcing the words from your throat. ”All of it. The way it happened, the way I reacted, the way I hadn’t noticed anything going wrong.” You blink away the tears that are gathering in your eyes. ”I don’t want your help, because I’m fucking humiliated Choso. It’s something I should get over on my own.” You see his throat bob up and down as he swallows, taking in your words. You tense, turning to the kitchen sink. ”I’ll do the dishes, then I’ll stay in my room so you and Yuuji can do whatever.” ”Okay.” You wait for the water to get hot. He isn’t leaving. You swallow. A stray tear runs down your cheek. ”I’m sorry,” you mumble, barely audible over the running water. ”You don’t have to be,” he says as he walks past you, patting your arm. ”Still.”

=========

It’s late. Early? You don’t know. The darkness outside your window has been replaced by a dull, grey light, and you haven’t slept. You haven’t really tried either. The exhaustion and sadness roots down into your very bones, so you don’t see a point in sleeping to get rid of it. You curl in to your sheets. A warmth covers you, but it’s not the kind of warmth you want, the kind you crave. Your phone pings and you pull it towards you, squinting at the screen. It’s 5 o’clock, and you have a text notification. — From : Choso :-) <- Are you going to class today? To : Choso :-) -> idk -> i should but -> eh From : Choso :-)<- Do you wanna join me for breakfast now then? I made enough for either a lunchbox or for now — You let out a breath, dropping your phone back to the mattress. You look up at the ceiling. You think you’ve seen it more than anything or anyone else this week. You get up. The floor is cold when you place your feet down. The air is cold when you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Chosos gaze is warm when he meets your eyes from the dinnertable. ”G’morning,” you mumble. ”Morning,” he says. You sit down opposite him, and he pushes a bowl of chazuke towards you. ”Thanks,” you say. He hums.

You fill up your spoon. Rice, tea, fish. Warmth. Still the wrong kind, but better than the selfmade one of your bed.

”Why’re you up so early?” you ask, muffled by the food in your mouth. He’s seen you do worse, you think. ”Have to be at the studio all day today. Working on an exam piece,” he replies, mumbled around the rim of his tea cup. You hum.

It’s not awkward, it’s just kind of tense. You’re unsure on how to fix it. You don’t think Choso and you are friends exactly. Maybe just good roommates.

He makes dinner, you do the dishes. He’s busy working on a project, you bring him food and snacks at his desk. You get dumped, and he does his absolute best to do whatever he can for you.

Whatever you allow him to do for you.

Which hasn’t exactly been a lot. It’s not like he hasn’t offered. He has, and maybe that’s the problem. It makes you feel weird. A nervous clump in your chest. Stinging your eyes. A tiny spark of warmth in your heart, that you don’t want to permit yourself to think about.

It’s too early, too soon, and he’s too kind, too caring. It scares you. You feel guilty. It’s only been a bit more than a week since he broke up with you.

You want to move on, but it feels wrong. You don’t know why. You don’t want to move on, but that feels wrong too. It’s not like he waited to move on. Your younger sister had told you when you spoke over the phone the other day.

Making out with someone at a party, going home with them, eating lunch with them the following day. Not exactly the actions of someone who feels wrong or guilty.

Maybe you feel guilty because of the circumstances. Maybe it feels like you’d be proving him right. He hadn’t said anything about your relationship with Choso during his tangent, but you feel like you could tell he wanted to.

You scrape up the last of your bowl of chazuke, before pushing it away and resting against the table. You look up at him. His hair is down, held back by a hairband, and you think it makes your heart flutter. You look away, scolding yourself.

”Can I come with you to the studio today?” you ask, and he hums. ”If you want to, yeah,” he says, and you curse him for sounding so warm. You sigh.

”You’re too nice to me Choso.” ”I’m not.”

You stay quiet. You don’t want to argue, and you know he isn’t going to change his mind.

”Are you driving?” ”Was planning to. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad, so.” ”Okay.” ”I was gonna leave in just a bit? If that works for you.” ”Sounds good.”

You look at him again. He looks at you. You don’t know if he ever looked away. It makes a sickly warmth spread through your body, and you don’t know what to do about it. You get up and gather the dishes on the table in to a neat little pile, and carry it to the kitchen sink. Choso stays at the table, but you think you feel his gaze sticking to you, following you. ”I’ll do them when we get home,” you say. ”Okay,” he replies. You turn to look at him. He’s smiling at you, slight but warm, and you think you feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. ”I’ll get my stuff and then we can leave,” he says as he stands up, before walking to his room. ”Okay,” you reply, following him with your gaze until he’s out of sight. You go back to your own room and change your sweatpants to a pair of jeans, and your hoodie for a t-shirt and flannel. You throw your laptop and notebook into a bag, just in case you find the motivation catch up on your work during the day. A knock. ”You ready?” he calls out, and you meet the gaze of the girl in the mirror. She doesn’t really look like you. Or maybe she does. You don’t really remember, if you’re being honest. She looks normal and you feel like you don’t. ”Yeah,” you reply as you break the eye contact you had with the mirror. Choso is already in the entryway by the time you leave your room, sitting on the bench and pulling on his shoes. You look at him for a bit. He’s hunched over, tying his shoes, and it makes his hair fall down to cover his face from your eyes. Parts of him peek through the silky curtain. His nose, his eyes, his lips. A spark lights up in your chest, but you trample it down as soon as it appears. You can’t. Shouldn’t. Not yet. You slip your feet into a pair of sandals. Choso looks up at you. You look down at him. ”Forecast said it was gonna rain.” ”Just park close to the entrance then.”

He chuckles. The spark you’re pressing down turns to an ember. You try to press it down further. You don’t know if it’s working. The car ride is quiet. Morning news prattle lightly on the radio. Choso drives and you sit next to him. You rest your head against the window. There isn’t much to talk about. You haven’t left the apartment for more than 5 minutes a day the past week, and Choso has been working on his project that he’s been deliberately vauge about since he started it a month ago. The morning news transition into an old rock station. You reach over and turn it up, just a bit. Choso lets out a short hum, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Neither of you speak. There’s no need to. Choso pulls up to the university parking lot, taking the spot closest to the gates, just like you asked him to. You snort, and you think you see a small smile grow on his face. You don’t realize that this was the first time you’d laughed since everything happened. The two of you reach the art departments studio building just as rain starts to fall. He walks to his shared studio and you follow behind. He shows you to his desk and workspace before pulling out the desk chair and urging you to sit down. The stupid ember in your heart keeps sparkling, no matter what you do. You sit down, hoping that Choso can’t tell how quickly you’re falling. As you pull out your phone you hear the studio door open and close before the sound of footsteps stop near where you sit. ”Who’s this?” You look up at the source of the voice, and instantly regret it. A man stands above you with sickening grin on his face. You think you recognize him, though only from rumours around campus. He smiles down at you, and a shiver runs down your spine. ”My roommate,” Choso says from his workspace behind you, and the mans grin widens. You tense. ”Brought her here as a model, did you? Maybe we can share!” The undertone of his voice makes bile rise in your throat. Dehumanizing, like you’re nothing but filth, only worthy of being used, never worthy of being loved. It sounds like *him*, and it makes your eyes sting. You clench your jaw and swallow, trying to think of something, anything, to say. ”She’s kind of been having a shit time, so I brought her here ’cuz she wanted to come. You being a piece of shit and pestering her for no reason sure isn’t helping. Leave her alone.” ”Aw come on Choso, take a chill pill buddy!”

The smile on his face as he speaks is almost nauseating, and you curl in to yourself, doing anything you can to gain an illusion of being out of his sight. ”Are you fucking incapable of listening to people or something? Fuck off.” ”Woah, alright! Take it easy. All yours man.” The man turns around and swaggers out of the studio, and you’re unsure if he even is in the same class as Choso. ”Sorry about him. Loser who only comes to the studio once every month to be annoying,” Choso mumbles as he leans down to grab his materials from his bag ”Oh. Uh… yeah. No need to be sorry,” you reply quietly. He’s close. If he turned his head towards you, you’d be close enough to count his eyelashes. Your stupid, stupid heart is still relentlessly aflame. You can smell his aggrevating eucalyptus shampoo from the bottle that falls down every time you shower. You can see the scrunched tip of his nose as he mutters to himself, digging deeper into his bag in search for something. You can feel his proximity to you. His body heat, his knee bumping against your shin, his presence. It’s overwhelming. And then it’s gone, just like that. Choso stands up and walks back to his workspace and you turn to lay down on his desk, trying to calm your flickering heart. The day continues. At one point you doze off, head resting against the half empty pages of your notebook. You startle awake when Choso places a soda bottle and a bag of chips near your head. ”Lunch,” he says before taking a bite of a protein bar. You hum and stretch in your seat. ”Thanks. Any equally fantastical dinner plans?” you ask, joking. You don’t need him to buy you dinner. ”Might get something from the cafeteria before we leave if that’s cool with you?” ”Oh. Sure,” you reply. He’s buying you dinner. Why is he buying me dinner? Choso gets back to his work, and you attempt to do the same. It makes your flaming little heart burn in a way that stings, the way he so easily, so nonchalantly, takes care of you in a way that makes you fall more and more every single time. It reminds you of him, at the very start of it all, back in your tiny countryside high school. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel special. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel loved. You don’t really get any work done at all. Choso buys you dinner. Because of course he does. It’s nothing fancy at all, just a bowl of gyudon, but he still bought dinner for you. The question of why still bounces around in your head, but you ignore it. The gyudon is good. Maybe you should eat at the cafeteria more often.

It’s a rather quick and quiet affair, dinner. The two of you eat in silence, enjoying but not savouring. It’s late after all. The road is dark and empty as Choso drives the two of you home. A soft jazz tune is playing quietly on the radio, and you pick at your nails. ”You know you don’t have to do,” — you wave your hands in front of you — ”all this, right?” ”This?” Choso questions, mimicking your hand movements slightly above the steering wheel. You clench your jaw. ”Bringing me to your studio ’cuz it’s the first time I’ve been outside in a week. Buying and cooking food for me. Defending me from your weirdo classmates. I don’t know. You don’t have to be so kind to me Choso.” ”I know I don’t have to. I want to.” His answer makes you sigh, and you turn to look out of the window. A slight drizzle has covered the city and you can’t really see further than a meter outside of the car, but you welcome the simulated feeling of isolation and calm. ”I don’t understand why,” you mumble. ”I don’t get it and it makes me feel weird.” ”Good weird or bad weird?” ”I don’t know. Both?” You pause. ”I’m sorry.” ”You don’t have to be. I’m sorry too.” You see his reflection in the car window. A small confounded frown has taken over his face, and you cringe. At yourself. At how this is exactly what you were worried was going to happen, but you let it happen anyways. ”I care about you. I don’t know exactly what happened but I know that for you to react how you did, it had to be awful. No one deserves that.” His words make your lips tremble, and you turn to look at him. He meets your gaze, if only for a second, before looking back at the road. ”It just pisses me off. You deserve someone who takes care of you, and if that asshole isn’t gonna do it, why don’t I?” You flinch. Flinch at the mention of him, flinch at the way the ember in your chest bursts into a raging bonfire. You flinch at the way Choso says it so nonchalantly, as if he doesn’t realize the way it makes you feel. ”You uh… want to take care of me?” you ask hesitantly. ”Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the easiest question in the world. ”Oh,” you breathe out. ”Yeah,” he repeats.

You look at him again. Try to read him again. He looks sure. Calm. Decisive. Your heart flutters, and you swallow. ”Take care of me how?” you ask quietly, almost scared of hearing the answer. ”Any way you’ll let me,” he says softly, and you frown. ”No, Choso. Don’t… don’t be like that. Please. Just tell me for real.” His throat bobs, and he tenses up. The city lights illuminate his face, blue and orange shining across his cheeks. ”I know you’re just trying to be careful, but it’s unfair Choso. I can’t read your mind. Just be honest with me, please.” ”I meant what I said. However you let me,” he forces out. You sigh. ”Choso,” you mutter. His knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. The car stops abruptly, and you startle, looking out of the window. You’re in your apartment buildings parking garage, and before you can even turn back to look at him again, you hear the car door slam shut. You look to the driver seat. Empty, keys still in the ignition. You look to the back seat. Both yours and Chosos bag rest in the middle, against each other. You grumble to yourself before grabbing the bags and the keys, getting out and locking the car behind you. As you walk in to the stairwell, you hear his footsteps a few floors above you. ”You forgot your bag dumbass!” you yell, and the footsteps stop. As you start walking up, you hear him come down to meet you. He’s standing at the top of the stairs. You look up at him. His eyes are wide, expression unsure. You walk up and past him, slamming his bag into his chest. ”Don’t be a fucking asshole Choso. It’s embarrassing. For both of us.” He sputters, and you keep walking. He follows, two steps at a time, before he catches up to you and grabs your arm. You stop. ”I’m sorry,” he says. ”Okay,” you reply. You pull your arm from his grip. He lets go. ”I’m sorry,” he says again. ”Okay,” you reply again. You keep walking. He follows. He stands behind you as you unlock the door. He sits down on the bench as you slip off your sandals. ”Good night,” you say. He doesn’t reply.

=========

You go to class the next day. If only to make it easier to avoid Choso. A childish solution, you’re sure, but it feels warranted. It might not have been awkward before, but it most definetly is now. You sit on the bus, going home, cramped between the window and an older woman with a kid in her lap. Your text notification sounds out through your headphones, and you shuffle your phone out of your bag, doing your best to not disturb anyone around you. — From : Choso :-) <- Are you home? — You purse your lips and frown down at the screen. Frown at the stupid little emoji he put there on his own as he entered his number into your contact list. Frown at his bluntness. Frown at how the bonfire inside you is still raging, despite Chosos behaviour last night. — To : Choso :-) -> on the bus -> home in maybe 15 From : Choso :-) <- Okay <- Can you let Yuuji in when you’re home? He was going to come over but something came up and I have to stay late at the studio. To : Choso :-) -> okay will do — You debate adding an emoji of some kind, but ultimately decide against it, before shoving your phone back into your bag. If Choso is going to be weird and awkward, you might as well do the same. A small tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to the woman next to you, plucking your headphone from your ear. ”Hm?” She smiles, warm and knowing. You raise your eyebrows. ”It’s better to talk about it, you know?” she says. Your eyes widen. ”Excuse me?” ”Your boyfriend! Fights never get resolved by being ignored.” You sputter. ”He’s not- It’s- We aren’t fighting. And he’s my roommate, not my boyfriend,” you grumble. The lady just laughs. ”All right, all right. My point still stands,” she says, before putting the child in her lap down on their feet and standing up herself. ”You need to be honest with yourself too, young girl.”

Her parting words are soft, and you sink into your seat as she walks away.

As you tredge up the final steps to your apartment you spot Yuuji sitting by the door. You cringe. It’s definetly been over a year since the floors were cleaned. And you’ve also never been any semblance of alone with Yuuji. You don’t really know how to deal with teenage boys.

You take off your headphones as you walk up to him. Yuuji looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and shoots up to stand as he realizes it’s you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds.

”Hi,” you say. ”Hey!” he exclaims. ”Uh, Choso told you what’s up right?”

You almost laugh. Because he did, but he also very much didn’t.

”Yeah,” is what you end up saying. You don’t need to vent about your issues to someone who views the person you’re having issues with as the best brother in the world.

”Cool,” Yuuji says, and silence takes over again. You fiddle with the strap of your bag and Yuuji scuffs his shoes against the floor.

”Do you- Um, we can go to the store. If you want anything to eat, or something. While you wait,” you say.

How the hell do you even talk to people? ”Oh! Uh, I don’t have any money though.” ”I’ll pay.” ”Ah okay then!”

You nod and Yuuji smiles. You try to smile back but it feels tense and weird. You hope he doesn’t question it.

”There’s a corner store just a minute away, they have snacks and food and stuff. We…”

You pause. We. As if you and Choso are a unit. A pair. A couple.

”There is some stuff at home but I don’t mind treating you to whatever,” you say. ”Cool,” he says again.

You nod, and start walking back down the stairs. Yuuji follows behind. You clench the strap of your bag tightly the entire walk.

Why are you doing this? You could’ve easily just let him in and then retreated to your own room and left him to watch TV or hang out in Chosos room.

You’re not friends with Yuuji. Barely even aquaintainces, and definetly not ”bring him to the corner store” close. You feel dumb. Weird.

As the two of you walk into the store, Yuuji speaks up.

”Y’got a spending limit? ”Uh. Don’t get more than you’d pay for with your own money, I guess?” you reply. ”Sweet!”

He takes off between the aisles, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. You follow behind, meandering around the store. After a minute or two Yuuji appears before you, a ramen cup, a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in his hands. ”Is this okay?” he asks. ”Yeah. I’ll grab something too, hold on.” You walk to the refrigerators and pick out an onigiri and a soda bottle. ”Y’didn’t eat lunch?” Yuuji asks, hovering over your shoulder. ”Uh. I did, just didn’t want you to feel awkward. Or whatever,” you mumble as you turn to walk to the register. ”Oh, cool.” The two of you put down your stuff on the register desk and you give a small smile to the cashier. Yuuji stands behind you, looking around at the stuff behind the register. ”What a nice sister you have!” the cashier says to Yuuji as you tap your card against the reader. Twice in a day now. That you’ve been mistaken for having some actual connection to Choso. It didn’t use to happen this often did it? Do you carry yourself differently after all that’s happened? ”Ah, she’s just my brothers roommate,” Yuuji replies. You huff out a quiet laugh. Yeah. Just Chosos roommate. The cashier hums. You think you see a knowing glint in his eyes. You sink into the collar of your jacket as you grab your things, before moving to the eating area of the store. As Yuuji heats up his cup noodles, you get started on your onigiri. You had actually forgone lunch, solely because you know that Choso often eats in the campus cafeteria. Once again, childish, and once again, would be weird to mention to your current company. ”Just didn’t want you to feel awkward.” A lame excuse if there ever was one, but you trust that Yuuji and yourself aren’t close enough for him to question you. The two of you eat. You attempt some smalltalk. You ask him about school. Yuuji tells you about his exams and exchange events. You nod along. He asks you about school. You tell him about your major. He seems interested, but you can’t really tell if he’s just trying to be polite. The two of you leave the store and begin the short walk back. ”You’re smart right?”

The question comes almost out of nowhere and you stop in your tracks before turning to look at Yuuji. ”Uh, I guess?” you say. You don’t know what Yuuji classifies as smart. ”Okay so like, if I do my homework while waiting for Choso would you help me if I get stuck?” he asks, if only slightly awkwardly. ”Oh. Uh, yeah sure. Can’t promise I’ll be that helpful but I can try.” When you get home the two of you sit down at the dinner table, you with your laptop and Yuuji with his schoolbooks. He asks you a question now and then, and you help to the best of your ability. Occasionally you read him a passage of your essay to see if it flows how you hope it does, and he laughs at how little he understands. You smile, just slightly. Yuuji is nice. Choso comes home eventually. The rusty orange of the sunset shines through the balcony windows. Yuuji springs up from his seat and hugs his brother before heading to the couch and turning on the TV. Choso is about to go over to join him before he stops and turns to you. ”Thanks, for uh,” Choso says, gesturing behind him at Yuuji who’s busy setting up the video game they’re going to play, ”keeping him company.” ”Yeah, no problem,” you reply. ”He’s a good kid.” Something takes over Chosos face when the words leave your lips. You’re still not great at reading him. Sentimentality maybe? Melancholy? Satisfaction or pride? Maybe all of them at the same time. ”Yeah. He is.”

=========

It’s been a week. Things are more or less back to normal. Whatever normal means. The cool wind plays across your face as you look down at the street below. Choso joined you on the balcony about five minutes ago. Something in your head tells you he wants to say something. Something important. So you stay silent. You haven’t looked at him since he opened the door and quietly asked if it was okay for him to be here. You had turned your gaze back to the city before nodding. You feel him next to you, prescence overwhelming, your arms touching, just slightly. You interlock your own fingers, picking at your nails. You hear him swallow, preparing to speak, and you lean your head further over the railing. ”I think I fell in love with you before you even moved in here,” Choso says. You swallow and chew on your lip, still unable to raise your gaze from your own entwined hands. ”I saw you. At the party after the opening week. You… um, you were with him, but I just… couldn’t tear my eyes off of you. You looked so pretty and so happy and I just couldn’t stop staring at you. Was surprised neither of you noticed.” You finally look at him. He’s leaning his back against the balcony railing, face tilted up against the stars. Chosos ears are red and it makes heat rise to your cheeks. You look back down at the city streets below. ”He went off to get new drinks or something and,” he swallows. ”You looked at me. And then you smiled. I don’t even think it was for more than a second, but you looked me in the eyes and smiled.” You feel his gaze shift to you. ”I think I’ve been in love with you since then.” You look at him. The stars are reflecting in his eyes. You almost feel nauseous from the intense affection in your chest. ”That’s like a year and a half ago Choso,” you mumble. ”Yeah.” You let out a breath before turning back to the city. ”Um, I don’t mind covering rent for a month or two,” he mutters. You look up at him again. ”If you wanna move out, I mean. I get it. It’s weird and creepy of me to even have accepted you as a roommate, let alone having liked you like this for so long, so really, I understand if you-” You grab his hand. Choso looks at you. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks so nervous and so endearing and so pretty. ”I like you, Choso.” You blink. His mouth is opening and closing, trying to find words, as the blush spreads across his face. ”Oh.” ”Yeah,” you say, tilting your head. ”Like me? Or just like me?” ”I like you.” ”Oh.”

You let go of his hand before pressing your palm against his, interlocking your fingers. He squeezes your hand. You smile and squeeze back.

=========

Choso isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t Chosos girlfriend. Too soon you’d said. I’ve been waiting a year and a half, what’s a bit longer Choso had replied. But still, something in the air has undoubtedly shifted. One day you come home from class just as Choso leaves the bathroom after his shower. He’s fully dressed, just some sweatpants and a T-shirt, yet you can’t help but stare. Eventually your eyes meet his and he gives you a small grin as he dries his hair. You look away, face as hot as your burning heart. One night you leave your room to get a glass of water before bed. Choso is sitting on the couch, playing a video game on low volume. As you open your door his eyes flick to yours and then down to your legs. Your bare legs. His eyes snap back up to yours and then quickly move back to the television as a blush spreads across his cheeks. You huff out a small laugh as you walk past him to the kitchen. After you finish your glass of water and go to head back to your room you instead take a seat on the armrest of the couch, next to where Choso is sitting. He looks up at you and you smile before reaching and running your hand through his hair. So many unspoken words shine in his eyes and your smile grows shy. You lean down quickly and press a short kiss to the corner of his mouth with a whispered ”g’night.” As you stand up Choso lightly grabs the hand you’re pulling out of his hair before softly kissing the inside of your wrist. Heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes meet his once again. Choso repeats your simple sentiment and you give him a nod before returning to your bedroom. You barely sleep that night, spending multiple hours rubbing the spot he’d kissed as you imagine how his lips would feel against yours. One afternoon the two of you are grocery shopping together, huddled closely together, inspecting the produce. You see an older woman steal a glance at you before tapping her husbands shoulder and gesturing to Choso and yourself. ”Remember when we were that young?” she asks him. He laughs. ”Of course I do.” You glance up at Choso and find his ears are as red as the bell pepper you’re holding in your hand.

One evening you and Choso are on the way home from going out with a few friends when you tell him you’re going to pop in to the convenience store really quick, and he tells you that he’ll wait for you outside. When you leave the store you find Choso outside, talking to a girl. As you approach, her eyes widen before she falls into a short bow and takes off. ”Never took you for a womanizer Choso,” you joke, taking a bite of pocky before offering the stick to him. ”She wasn’t hitting on me,” he mumbles as he chews. You snort. ”Sure she wasn’t.” You grab his hand and the two of you start walking home. ”No, really. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on,” he muses, rubbing his thumb along your fingers. ”I find that hard to believe,” you say, bumping against him, teasing. ”What do you mean?” he asks simply. You flush. ”Well… you know. You’re handsome,” you mutter. ”Oh.” You’re not sure if the response of simply gripping your hand tighter and burrowing into the collar of his jacket, muttering something you can’t make out is because he was in fact unaware of his own attractiveness or the fact that it was you who said the words. One day you text Choso. He replies straight away, even though you know he’s in class. — To : Choso :-) -> do u have plans today? From : Choso :-) <- Just my classes <- Was there anything you had on your mind? To : Choso :-) -> wanna go out? -> like on a date i mean -> we can stay in too if youd rather do thay -> that -> i just thought we cpuld talk maybe -> could -> so yeah -> lmk —

As soon as you press send on the final message you throw your phone down on the bed next to you and bury your face in your pillow. You don’t dare look at the screen. You stare at a tiny hole in the wall. Minutes pass. He’s in class you rationalize. Choso slams his phone down on the table as soon as he sees the word ”date” in your texts. As he sinks down in his chair he puts his face in his hands, feeling the blush spread from the tip of his nose all the way to his ears. His seatmate throws a questioning glance his way and the professor keeps talking but all he can think about is you. — From : Choso :-) <- Yeha sounds good! <- Yeah* <- My class is over in an hour if you want to meet up somewhere near campus? Otherwise I can come pick you up at home :-) To : Choso :-) -> does the park by campus sound ok? -> ill come meet u at the gates if thats fine From : Choso :-) <;- That’s fine! <- I can’t wait :-) To : Choso :-) -> me neither <3 — After sending the message you spring off your bed and hurry into the shower. You do your best to be as quick but also as thorough as possible. As you stand in front of your closet, wrapped in your towel, a thought pops in to your head. I want to look pretty. A thought you haven’t had since that one fateful meeting with him. You don’t want to call it a date. It hardly qualified as one anyways. I want to look pretty for Choso.

The simple specification makes heat rise to your cheeks. It feels easy, the soft, almost innocent affection you feel for Choso. You don’t dare think of what you feel as love, not yet, and you definetly don’t dare to say it out loud. However, despite the softness and the innocence, there is another aspect to your affection. A decidedly less soft and innocent aspect. You hesitate to call it something as simple as attraction, but can’t imagine calling it something as loaded as lust. Alas, something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he won’t be able to take his hands off you. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he’ll fall speechless the second your eyes meet. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that Choso will be yours, forevermore. You talk to your older sister on the phone while you do your makeup. She teases you relentlessly as you beg her for advice but you can hear the loving smile in her voice. For the entire busride you bounce your knee and pick at your nails. Your mind is running at the speed of light and you can’t seem to stop it, no matter how hard you try. Will you be my girlfriend? Can you be my girlfriend? Do you want to be my girlfriend? You try to imagine how he’ll phrase the inevitable question. A different scenario pops into your head. Please be my boyfriend, won’t you? Heat rises to your cheeks and you sink down into your seat. Be my girlfriend, yeah? He had charmed you at the time, you can’t deny that. The nonchalant words mixed with the slight eagerness in his eyes. But Choso won’t do that. As conceited as it makes you sound, you know that he won’t. He’s been waiting for you for too long, he would never be so careless about it. He meets you at the bus station, breathing heavily, sweat gathering at his brow. You glance at the small clock on your wrist. His class ended just a minute ago. You crack a smile as his eyes meet yours. ”I wouldn’t have minded waiting y’know,” you tell him as the two of you begin the short walk to the nearby park. ”Still,” Choso says as his breathing calms down. ”I never wanna make you wait.” "Unfair," you say, bumping your arm against his. "I've made you wait plenty of times." "Hm, well. Call it a special privilege." He doesn't elaborate on if the privilege is his or yours.

The park is quiet, a calm wind playing through the trees. You and Choso walk around for a bit, talking about nothing and everything. His class, your upcoming presentation, Yuujis exams. Groceries, favourite foods, pastries. Eventually the two of you sit down on a small bench under a willow tree, facing a pond. A family of ducks float across the surface, maneuvering between lilypads and reeds. Both of you know what you came here to do, but neither of you seem to know exactly how to do it. A few minutes pass in silence, broken by Chosos hand coming down to rest over yours. You look up from the pond and meet his eyes. Nervous and wide, yet more sure than you’ve ever seen them. Deep pools of dark brown with a tiny hint of a moody violet. ”Can I be your boyfriend?” Oh. Oh. You can’t find the words, so you just nod. So kind, so gentle, so humble. Not asking, not offering, not demanding. A simple request, one that you’d fulfil time and time again, through eons and lifetimes. You love him. I love him. ”I love you,” you mumble. Chosos cheeks bloom into a glowing red, and you feel the tips of your ears heat up similarly. You’re Chosos girlfriend. Choso is your boyfriend.

-- epilouge

It’s hot out. The cicada song and sunshine overwhelms your senses, but Chosos warm hand in your cold one grounds you as you walk up to your childhood home among the rice fields. You don’t hate the countryside, not at all. You just don’t think you were particularly made for it, at least not with how you live your life right now. Your sisters meet you on the porch, Namie, your older sister living at the house halftime and your younger sister Rei having left as soon as her classes ended and she was on break, two days before you and four days before Choso. Rei and Choso exchange waves and small greetings, having met a handful of times before back in the city. As you introduce him to Namie, Choso falls into a deep bow and quietly promises that he’ll take care of you. Your sisters just laugh, but both yours and Chosos cheeks are as warm as the searing summer sun. Your mother and her husband are still on a business trip, their promised arrival being a week after yours. Choso had been relieved when you told him he wouldn’t be meeting your entire family at the same time. Chilled glasses of ice tea sit on a tray in the living room, freshly poured by your grandfather as the four of you take your seats. He spends the better half of an hour interrogating your boyfriend while you rest on the engawa with your sisters. It’s nice to be home. Even if anywhere you are with Choso is home, you feel like bringing him here shows him how he makes you feel. His eyes meet yours through the open sliding doors and you hope and pray he understands how much it means to you that he’s here and he’s yours. A sliver of a grin grows on his face and you let out a content sigh. Dinner is short and sweet, most of the evening instead being spent on drinks and board games. Choso wins the first round and your grandfather mutters beginners luck under his breath, but you can see the small smile on his face. Namie retreats to her room after five rounds, your grandfather after seven and Rie after eight.

You and Choso stay downstairs for a while, just sitting in silence. As much as you love to speak with him, you also love how you never need to. The wind chimes play a soft melody as you stand up and pull Choso up from his seat, guiding him to your room. He gets into bed before you, half covered by the sheets. His eyes never leave you as you get undressed, and as soon as you step closer to the bed he pulls you down on top of him, brushing his lips against yours. You can taste the lemon sake you drank earlier mixed with the subtle mint of his toothpaste and grapefruit of your lip balm. He lets go of you after just a second or two, and you sink down against him. ”Can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me in my childhood bedroom,” you whisper against the crook of his neck. He hums. ”Is it working?” You laugh quietly before pressing a short kiss to his lips. ”Maybe. Pervert.” Neither you nor Choso are particularly affectionate with your words. You know he loves you and he knows you love him. But the words are rarely spoken out loud. The last time you told him was after he asked to be your boyfriend and the last time he told you was nearly three months after that, when the two of you had gone out on Christmas Eve. However, this seemingly normal summer night, quiet and warm, evidently brings out waves upon waves of whispered confessions as your bodies move against each other, skin to skin and heart to heart. It’s hot, almost boiling. The sweltering summer air blowing through your open window, Choso holding you tightly to his chest and the feeling of his body heat against your sticky skin. You’d noticed it after just a week of actual dating. Choso always runs hot. You run your hands through his hair as you grind down against him. He looks up at you before leaning up and kissing you. His lips are slightly chapped and burning, marking yours with an almost frantic obsession. ”I’m,” you gasp. ”I’m so fucking in love with you.” The words are mumbled against his lips, like a secret only the two of you are privy to. ”M-me too,” Choso murmurs, trailing off into a quiet whimper. ”I love you so much.” Between the whispers and pants, you hear the muted sound of crickets outside. ”Never wanna leave you,” he says softly. ”Me neither,” you answer, not even having to think about it.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader

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