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satirn · 4 months ago
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some uh nicktoons / mostly el tigre doodles over the past month r so :P
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doodlingwren · 3 months ago
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Hiatus
I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.
Thank you for your patience ❤
Wren
#EDIT: I've deactivated my IG for a bit because it wasn't helping at all. I'll be back there but I need time#wren text tag#somehow issues from mid July/early August have managed to get worse. Like I'm not even surprised bc I'm used to it but GIRL . What the fuck#“it's finally summer”+“can't wait to draw!” * gets 3 hiatus in a row * maybe drawing or summer isn't really meant to be 🤨🤔#I hate having to log-in to post a hiatus message and then dissapear again when I'm supposed to post my doodles n have fun#Feels like one of those jesters that appears at luncheon to entertain the royal court and then they go missing for the rest of the month#bc I'm trying very hard not to hide in my shell + having a bit more presence here to post my artwork#and somehow I fail at both like fucking heck. How can you be so bad at this.#but in short I won't be here to answer stuff and being silly or whatever people expect me to do#because if you're here for the silly stuff. MAN. I'm am sorry but I don't feel silly at all.#Somebody once said “the horrors are never ending yet I remain silly” but I forgot the “remain silly” part#And if you're here for drawings. I don't even have time and I don't feel like drawing at all. Idk which one is worse#The bakery hangs up the “closed today” so people know they have to go to buy bread somewhere else. Same here. But it won't last a day#idk why the bread analogy. Guess I'm a birb after all#this is also the closest thing to a vent post I will ever write and I managed to say nothing at all. Vagueposting about vent. Good job Wren#tw: vent#tagging in case somebody like me needs to have some tags filtered#the hiatus will go on also a bit longer because the last few weeks my mental health suffered a lot and I know my limit#also this post was queued. If I see I can still be active before publishing I will delete it otherwise see for yourself#also queue doesn't work ig like I programmed this for 9 pm hopefully it will be up by then and not any other random time
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kozumesphone · 1 month ago
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01 ✦ ‘cops and robbers’ chase each other full of energy ! ༄.°
𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader
masterlist . . . ✰
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𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : i’m going crazyyyyy. I needed to put down—into words—an irl situation, and decided to call it a fanfic for my bias and post it 😭 anywayy it’s my first non-pjo or non-anime fic so I hope it turned out okay 😩 also here’s some fanart I found of the same vlive as the icons above (it’s so cute) ! <3 and as always!! anything I write about the idols is not a representation of them irl ! also possibly part ii coming as soon as I have the patience to write it bc I love the current flow 😋
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : day 1 , best friend!hyunjin , non-idol au , high school au , f!reader , best friends who do more-than-best-friends things , hinted bio students attending prep school together: hyune and reader , skz ot8 are in a highschool band together w reader , fluff , hyunjin’s a cutie patootie , smart!hyune x smart!reader , cutesy hand holding , hinting at stress (reader) , reader has glasses (which is unrelated to everything but still) , banter , teasing , ot8 appear a lot , nicknames (n/n, jagiya) , mother chan , jeongin is a menace , swearing a few times ;
𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 831
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DAY #01 . . .
“you’re staring,” hyunjin said, continuing to flex his arm’s muscles.
“nope. i’m revising anatomy before class starts. I was looking at the humerus, articulated through the glenoid cavity to the scapula,” I said, smiling.
“oh, sure.” he rolled his eyes. “since you’re staring so hard, wanna kiss ‘em?”
I made a face at him, and stuck my tongue out. “you wish!”
he laughed.
“I have them too, okay?” I said, trying to one-up him, as always.
“what?”
“muscles—”
“want me to kiss them?”
I shoved his shoulder away. “we’re late, walk faster!”
“you’re the one with tiny legs, i’m being considerate— OW! don’t stamp on my shoes!”
“shut up!”
“I won’t!”
we made faces at each other and parted ways in front of my classroom since his was the one next to mine.
I spent the next five hours surviving lectures on enzyme activity, literary analysis of dostoyevsky’s works, thermodynamics, and more boring stuff, alongside minho, felix, and jeongin (who fell asleep around five minutes into the first class).
during the break, our group—chris, minho, felix, jeongin, seungmin, han, changbin, hyunjin and I—met up outside our classrooms.
“here’s your blueberry milk, n/n and felix, my favourite children,” chris said, handing us two cans he bought from the vending machine. we smirked at the others, popped the tin open and started downing our drinks in unison. “and here’s your strawberry milk, min. jeongin, your banana milk.”
the others were in the same class as chris, so they got their drinks on their way out. after collecting our drinks from our rightful mother, we headed up to the roof.
“are there any new songs you guys are working on?” hyunjin asked chris, han and changbin—the songwriters of our band—while falling into step beside me.
our hands brushed once, so he held it anyway, and we continued walking together hand-in-hand.
han was talking about a new song they were composing for the band to play at the next music festival, which required a duet.
“we can do it,” I said, raising my free hand, meaning hyunjin and I. everyone else nodded in approval, and continued talking about their classes.
changbin pushed open the door to the roof, and we quickly followed him in pairs, shutting the door behind us.
we took our spots on the fluffy blanket minho got and laid down, hyunjin’s head resting on my lap. minho sat down with his legs on han’s, while jeongin did the same with chris, and seungmin copied them to lay his legs on changbin’s lap.
we continued chatting about the upcoming music festival and tried to figure out a name for our band before then, while my fingers threaded through hyunjin’s soft hair.
after the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch break (during which none of us actually ate our lunches), we returned to our classes for one last hour, after which, we met up outside the school’s main gate to walk home together.
I ran towards hyunjin while his back was facing me, and placed my cold palm against the back of his neck. he jumped suddenly, and shrieked. he threw his jacket onto my face.
“bitch!” I yelled, grabbing the jacket.
“put it on, jagiya, because your hands are cold as fuck! or you’ll die of the cold and then i’ll have to explain to your mother why i’m carrying her only child’s dead body home.”
“joke’s on you, I don’t think she’d mind. ha! and anyway, i’m a normal temperatured human being, for your information, you’re the warm one!” I complained, slipping his jacket on.
“okay, n/n, we all know you’re wrong on that one,” jeongin said. “give up the fight before it gets too embarrassing—”
“you’re all so mean to me, the best member of our group, and for what?” I rolled my eyes, sighing.
felix and chris stepped in front of me dramatically, and said together, “we’ll protect you from these ghouls, y/n!”
everyone burst out laughing, including them and me.
along the walk home, minho, han, changbin, and seungmin went a different way from the rest of us.
we waved our goodbyes, reminding each other to think of a name for our band.
“when’s our next test, hyune?” I asked suddenly.
“at prep school? I think it’s this friday,” he said.
“ugh, you both are such smartypants, you’re always studying or talking about it,” jeongin complained, accurately playing his role as the youngest child and menace of the group.
“and yet it’s not enough,” I muttered to myself, not realising hyunjin heard my words.
my mind divided its attention between worrying about the syllabus I was yet to cover for the test, and listening to the boys’ conversation.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when jeongin, chris and felix parted ways with us.
hyunjin and I walked a bit further to my house, where he dropped me off.
“see you at prep school!” he said, and jogged a block further to reach his house.
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mayhemories · 2 years ago
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Hi! Can I request a continuation of Teacher's Pet if you're okay doing it? reader takes the kids on a field trip to see whatever animal/cool thing in the rainforest (up to you) Neteyam and a couple warriors volunteer as chaperones to protect you and the kiddos for safety. He volunteered cuz duty but also saw this as a opportunity to get closer to reader 😈 During the field trip he notices one of the warriors try to flirt with Reader. Neteyam is SO jealous about this.
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gif: @world-of-pandora
Teacher's Pet Pt. 2
Anon when I saw this request I nearly passed out bc I thought I had accidentally leaked a part of the plot to this chapter. Wtf great minds think alike <3 hope my vision was satisfying for you!! I'm incredibly anxious about this one not being as good as the first one.
Don’t attack me because this part took so long. I was travelling between continents, have two assignments due and writing multiple works at once 🫡 trying my absolute best here. Some of my tags are working and some are broken! I’m so sorry if you asked to be tagged and it did not work for you - it was not on purpose. 
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Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 
Requested: Yes | No
Warnings: Swearing. Reader is slightly harassed/made uncomfortable by a male character (Neteyam doesn’t let it last for long). Neteyam is an adult with adult thoughts, Reader is an adult with adult thoughts, albeit a little innocent (just in her nature).
Words: 3.2k
Author’s Notes: Direct continuation of Teacher’s Pet, you can find part one here ← 
Taglist: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila @itssiaaax @mashiromochi @punkrockrogers @simpforboys @casiia @neytirqs @oh-austin @eywas-heir
Fic Taglist: @neteyamore @waaakemeeeup @tejas-kris @gardenofvows @nuhteyam @m4nd0l0r @bobojojoba69 @sydhersom @fanboyluvr @humbug5 @viviartsy @izzytheconosieur @dreamybiitch @heaven1oo4 @myheartfollower @agelsully @slythermania @neteyamyam15 @bealone-prm @okaylorrainee @koryianders @uwu-i-purple-you @jackiehollanderr @b-tchymoon @gloryavila @reneyahh
Continue reading under the cut:
It had been a week since dinner with the Sully’s, with your favourite student and her incredibly, incredibly attractive brother. 
Neteyam. 
His name has been running around your mind, stretching and weaving its way around every thought like a songchord every moment since you left his family home. You could not help but feel ashamed at the thoughts your mind had conjured regarding the warrior, regarding his hands and lips and strong arms. A blush broke out across your face, recollecting the private crevasses of your own mind, feeling as though everyone around you could see, could hear, what you dreamed of. 
“y/n!” Neteyam yelled out to you before he could stop himself. He had just come home from rounds, and his visceral yearning for you could not be halted, if he did not see you immediately he probably would’ve ripped the entire village apart until your figure appeared. And how Eywa had blessed him with seeing your face straight away. 
You spun, facing him, looking almost shocked that he had found you in the bustle of the afternoon. And, to his delight, he could’ve sworn that a light smile graced your beautiful face, in addition to a light, fading blush. 
“Neteyam,” Your voice was so beautiful, so, so, so beautiful. Like a song Neteyam never grew sick of. “Can I help you with something?” You asked, gently. Head slightly cocked. Neteyam couldn’t help himself, his body reacting without his brain, his arm reaching for your own, resting it just above your elbow. 
Your entire body felt like it had been set alight. Neteyam’s light grip on your arm made you feel numb, made you feel like you were floating. And how, how, were you supposed to listen, to comprehend anything he said to you? 
“No, no, but I was uh-” Neteyam stuttured, he hated how unsure he was around you, how nervous you made him. “I was wondering if I could help you.” He finished. 
Yes. Yes, he could. He could help you in so many ways that you wished you could voice to him. 
“How so?” You tried to remain professional, remain calm. But Neteyam still hadn’t removed his damn hand and all you could think about was how you wanted his hands. Both of them. Everywhere. 
Neteyam let out a nervous chuckle, his hand retreating from your arm, finding its home at the back of his neck. Something that you had clocked as a nervous tick, though you could never work out why someone like Neteyam, a handsome, strong and mighty warrior was nervous talking to you, a simple teacher. 
“Tuk let it slip that you and the kids plan to visit the syaksyuk tomorrow,” Neteyam felt his cheeks start to burn. He felt like slapping himself in the face, he needed to wake up, needed to collect himself. His father and brother would laugh at him for this interaction, he knew it. “To go that far into the jungle, alone, looking after twenty-something kids is dangerous.” 
You looked down at your feet, and Neteyam felt guilty, felt like he was scolding you. God, he wasn’t much better than his father. 
Your mind was wheeling. You and the kids. You and the kids. You knew, realistically what Neteyam had been referring to. Was it so wrong to wish for him to mean something else by it, though? You and our kids. That was what your heart longed to hear one day. 
“Would you chaperone us, Neteyam?” You asked sweetly. You tried to catch his strong eyeline, and when you did you felt the warm, flowing feeling pool in your chest. Looking at him was like taking your first breath after emerging from a pond, being around him was like feeling warmth after your marrow had been frozen. He made you feel so, so very alive. Alive and incandescent and important. 
Maybe, maybe it was incredibly selfish of you that you used your students as a front, used his sister as an excuse to see him. But you chased that feeling, you sought out his defiblirating presence. 
Neteyam felt like he was flying, felt like he was dying. Like he had flown too close to a tree and his actions had finally caught up to him. And here you were, offering him everything he has ever wanted, so simply, like it was nothing at all. Fuck, he loved you for it. 
You made a reach for him, your own hand mirroring the placement he had on you only moments ago, desperate for that blood-pumping high.
“Only if you’re not busy of course-”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure-”
Neteyam and yourself had spoken at the same time. Two bashful morons who could obviously not contain themselves in eachothers presence. Well, thats what it felt like to Neteyam, anyway. Despite the fact that you were the most intelligent Na’vi he had anything to do with. 
“I can bring a couple of hunters, if you’d like.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why would he do that? Neteyam can’t help run his dumbass mouth, he had secured the situation and fumbled it within seconds. All he wanted was to have more moments with you, alone. Or alone as one can get with a gaggle of children at your feet. 
Not that Neteyam minded seeing a bunch of children at your feet. 
And just like that, that beautiful blooming, romanticism errurpted in your chest, it died. You felt naive, you thought that Neteyam was angling at a moment, somewhat, alone. But him being the perfect, golden man that he was, cared genuinely about your safety. Cared about your class’ safety. Eywa damn it, his sister’s safety. All over again, you felt yourself running amock in your own thoughts. Was it not incredibly kind that he would give up his time to chaperone you and your class? He would only offer if he cared. You did not stop the love that unfurled in your chest. 
“Thank you, Neteyam.” You offered the man a smile, hoping he would sense your genuine excitement. “That’s extremely generous of you, I know how short on free time you are.” 
Neteyam was so, so happy. He felt like crying. He just doesn’t understand how you do it. Neteyam, as if being controlled, like a ghost in his shell, let his hand find yours that laid still on his arm, covering your hand. 
Everything was so effortless with you, so right. He did not just feel acknowledged or witnessed. But perceived, you saw him. Neteyam knew he was projecting. All he did know, though, was that he saw you. All he could wish for was that maybe, Eywa willing, you would see him too. 
Lo’ak was getting increasingly more pissed off. Watching Neteyam pussyfoot around you was painful. At first, it was hilarious. So hilarious that even his Dad got in on it. Jake found himself leaning against a support beam, Lo’ak a hairsbreadth away from him. The two of them watching his eldest son, watching his baby boy absolutely make a fool of himself.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Lo’ak.” Jake laughed lightly, shaking his head. Lo’ak had heard that sentence alot, usually in regard to his behaviour, but this time it was his father laughing at his older brother and Lo’ak was incredibly thankful he wasn’t on the end of it this time. 
“It’s embarassing.” Lo’ak agreed. 
Jake sighed. He didn’t realise how much Neteyam lacked in confidence. In the back of his mind, in the deep, dark part that Jake kept hidden, he couldn’t help to wonder if it was his fault that his eldest struggled to express himself.
“Neteyam!” 
Immediately your hand flew to your side, a blush exploded across your face and ears, you did not know why you were embarrassed that Jake Sully had caught you and Neteyam out- you were doing nothing wrong, anyway. 
But Neteyam’s mirroring blush said otherwise. 
“Time for dinner, boy!” As quick as he announced his presence from a few tents away, Toruk Macto was gone, disappeared into the threshold of his own home. 
“Bring your girlfriend!” Neteyam’s younger brother, Lo’ak called out. Following his father he quickly made himself scarse. You felt Neteyam grow rigid at the younger boy’s teasing words. 
Your blush deepened, and you cursed yourself for turning into a blushing, dumbstruck girl everytime Neteyam was near. 
“I’m uh,” Your heart fluttered everytime the precise, calculated warrior stuttured. “I’m sorry for them, they’re just teasing.” Neteyam looked sincre in his apology, but just as embarrassed as you had been. 
You laughed, shooing him away. His searing presence had become too much. 
“It’s alright, ma Neteyam.” You giggled, you were obviously unaware of what you had just said. Neteyam felt like a hunter going in for the kill with how aware of your words he was. He was enamoured. So fucking in love with you, it was beginning to hurt. “Go, go have a feast with your family.”
You smiled and Neteyam wanted to commit it to memory, etch it into his brain, a permanent reminder of your glowing nature.
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Neteyam returned the smile, stalking his way to his family home. 
And maybe it was his broad shoulders, or the way his braids moved as he walked. Maybe it was how confident he made you, or how much you wanted him, you didn’t know. But you could not stop the bold streak that only Neteyam could conjure: 
“Neteyam!” You called out, the boy spun, halfway home, brow cocked. “It would be an honour to be your girlfriend, you know!” Echoing the words that his brother had teased him with, you decided not to stay to give him the satisfaction of the last word, you waved goodbye before ducking into your own tent. 
Neteyam chuckled, like a young boy in trouble. All the way home. 
Later that night, while he was trying to find sleep in his private quarters of his family home. Neteyam tossed and turned in his hammock. His thoughts chasing the ghostly figure of you in his minds eye. As he so often did. But this time, words that he would only imagine you saying were replaced with memory. 
Ma Neteyam. Ma Neteyam. Ma Neteyam. 
God. He wanted nothing more than to be yours. To court you, to mate you, to build a home, create a nest for your eventual tribe of children. 
Normally at this point, Neteyam would start to feel guilty, to hold thoughts of you this way in his heart, and dirtier thoughts of you in his head. But as his hand snaked down between his legs, to his throbbing member, Neteyam dwelled on your parting words to him. 
It would be an honour to be your girlfriend, you know. 
And the guilt did not come for him. 
“Children, before we head out to go see the beautiful syaksyuk, I want you all to say a big thank you.” You gestured to Neteyam, and the two other warriors he had conned into chaperoning you and your class. The four adults and twenty-two Na’vi children stood at the precipice of the wild jungle.
“Thank you Ayo’to,” Your class echoed as you placed your hands on the shoulder of the youngest Na’vi warrior that had joined you today, working your way down the line, behind the young men. “Thank you Marek,” you moved along to the shoulders of the next hunter. You found your hands stalling when you reached Neteyam. You went onto your tippy toes, your eyes just peaking over Neteyam’s broad shoulders, giggles rang out from the kids, as one of your hands found Neteyam’s shoulder, the other one wrapping around his taunt bicep. 
“Thank you Neteyam.” You said, along with your kids, his honey eyes finding your own and you wished you could live in his line of sight forever. 
You pulled away, after leaving your hands a beat too long. You ushered the children to follow you, as your chaperones dispersed themselves around. Smiling to yourself, as you realised that Neteyam bought up the rear, sticking incredibly close to the few children in the back of the group. 
So fatherly, so protective, your heart swelled at the sight. 
“Neteyam is my brother.” You heard Tuk whisper to another boy in the class, who was watching the man in awe. Smiling softly to yourself, you were so thankful that you had the confidence to accept Neteyam’s offer of protection in the first place. 
Neteyam felt the smile plaster itself to his face, as he watched you teach the kids. He felt alive as your tail swished back and forth, happily. As you crouched down to be the same height as your students, to point out flora and fauna, to help them learn and love the gift of nature around them. 
He could not help to think how stunning you looked, out here in the morning light of the jungle. How your big, bright eyes glittered when your students answered something right, or engaged in asking questions. 
But to his dismay, the two young hunters Neteyam had pulled to help out, noticed your beauty too. And this soured his mood, greatly. 
He felt livid as he watched Marek’s trained eyes find their target on your ass. He wanted to punch Ayo’to in his square, stupid face everytime he pulled a large leaf back for you. But, the worst part of it all was that this was Neteyam’s own fucking fault. He offered additional help, he picked these two grunts. 
He was incredibly unhappy with his choices.
As you held a slender finger to your plush lips, signaling for the kids to be quiet as you ushered them into a clearing, Neteyam felt guilty for his sudden shift in mood. You were so stunning, so happy. You did not notice how the other two men treated you. You were so focused on the kids, on their education, on their happiness. 
Neteyam felt a tug on his hand, Tuk had almost ignored him the whole walk, enraptured with everything you had said. 
“What’s wrong Neteyam?” Tuk asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. Neteyam loved his sister, loved her keen eye for her family. He noticed that she shared that keen eye with you, too. Like you were her family, too. 
“Shh, nothing, go sit with the others and listen to (y/n).” Neteyam urged Tuk on. The young girl quickly sat in the grass with the other children, their eyes trained on their teacher, despite their surroundings. 
That was just another thing Neteyam found himself loving about you. Your ability to hold a room, to command attention without explicitly asking for it. He smiled to himself as he thought it was a great trait for a Tsahik.
“Kids we must be quiet, must be still as we wait for the syaksyuk.” You walked from the front of the class, to the back, watching them as every Na’vi child had their eyes glued to the tree canopy, waiting for any sign of the blue and yellow primates. 
“You’re a great teacher.” One of the hunters, Marek, had suddenly appeared next to you, whispering in your right ear. "Maybe you could teach me something, sometime." You blushed at the young man’s comments, but it was not the same blush you held for Neteyam. It was different. You were in discomfort. 
“Thank you,” You willed yourself to remain calm, remain professional, in a hushed voice to not scare away the syaksyuk, or be loud enough for the children to hear. “I appreciate that you’ve given time to assist me and my class today.” You kept your words clipped, hoping that your tone and lack of eye contact would push your feelings clearly.
Though you doubt the boy, the man, Marek, you doubted the fact that he cared much about your feelings. 
“Is anyone courting you, (y/n)?” You felt the hunter’s hot breat fan across your neck, you felt like his prey, trapped against his chest and an invisible wall of professionalism standing behind your class. You knew there was nothing explicit in his question, outright. But it was the lewd undertones that had you nervous.
Where was Neteyam? 
“I do not think that is an appropriate question, Marek.” You wished your words had not fallen out of your mouth, shakily, but they had. They had and now he knew you were nervous. 
Where the fuck was Neteyam? 
Neteyam was seeing red, was fuming. 
Marek had crossed a line getting so close to you, that was a given. But as Neteyam watched the bead of sweat roll down your face, watch as your eyes flicked back and forth in front of you, that was enough. 
Silently, as to not interrupt the children’s viewing of the syaksyuk, Neteyam made his way over. 
He heard Marek ask about courting. 
He heard your curt reply. But between your words he could hear your uneasy nature. He could hear the rising panic. 
“You’re excused, Marek.” Neteyam put his hand out to you, relief flooded him as you quickly pulled yourself against his arm and chest, a beat away from Marek and his looming figure. 
“But-” Neteyam cut the hunter off, sick of seeing his stupid face. 
“I want you gone, now. Be quick and quiet about it.” 
You felt like a fool, holding onto Neteyam’s strong hand for dear life. Marek wouldn’t have done anything to you here, not infront of the kids. But it was the fear of it, creeping around in the back of your mind that upset you, nonetheless. 
“Yes Sir.” 
You watched quietly as Marek fled through the brush of the jungle. Silent like the hunter he was. You watched as he pulled the other young hunter, Ayo’to along with him. 
It was you, and Neteyam, and the kids, of course. 
“Are you alright, ma (y/n)?” Neteyam asked softly, pulling your back to his toned chest, his chin resting on the top of your head, large, muscled arms snaking around your waist to hold you tightly against him. Protecting you from any harm. 
You could not help but to lean into his touch, lean into your love for the man. You knew your brain would pick itself raw over the use of that prefix later, now was for you and him. Now was for your kids and the swinging syaksyuk that had appeared through the canopy. 
You rested your hands on top of his own, “I’m alright now, ma Neteyam.” You whispered as the kids began to ooh and ahh at the syaksyuk. Giggling as the primates chattered through the trees. 
You allowed yourself to laugh with the kids, allowed your mind to wander to the daydreams you have of loving Neteyam. Allowed yourself to conjure and image of your firstborn sitting on his father’s shoulders, enraptured with the world around them. 
You let yourself feed into that dream as you felt Neteyam’s very real lips ghost over your hairline, above your left ear. He left nothing but a thought of a kiss there, and you felt that same blooming in your chest. 
“Have dinner with me tonight.” Neteyam gently whispered once more, this time laying a tangible, corporeal kiss above your ear. 
You could’ve folded, in half, then and there if it wasn’t for Neteyam’s strong hold. 
“Anything you want, Neteyam.” You whispered back to him, cocking your head to look up at him. You noticed the muscle flick in his jaw as he looked ahead, pretending not to see your line of sight. Gently, you placed a small kiss on his jawbone. Featherlight, it could’ve vanished if he wished it to. 
You hoped he did not wish it to. 
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a-fools-circus · 1 year ago
Text
Salacious Want
Papa II/f!Reader
Desc: after confessing to Secondo how you've spent your time alone, he makes sure you know that the only person allowed to touch you is him Word Count: 6.3k Tags/Warnings: bondage, bdsm, impact play, degredation, edging/orgasm delay/denial, rough sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, choking, dom/sub, ownership, creampie, aftercare, bc aftercare is important and i want to showcase that i think Secondo fits the duality of being both a rough dom and a tender loving dom, please note that there is one moment when the reader claims to be overwhelmed, but every moment of sex beforehand and afterwards is consensual with both participants willing
this was originally intended to be a fic for Kinktober. obviously that didn't end up working out, BUT i still wanted to write this bc i liked the idea, and i've yet to give Secondo some love so here it is ! this ended up being very fun to write and way longer than intended so i think it's a win. Secondo stans i'm starting to understand you. enjoy babes <3
also available to read on ao3 here
Minors DNI/NSFW below the cut
It was only a few hours ago when you were sat in the shadowed corner of the confession booth. The only thing separating your figure from Secondo’s was the wooden lattice in the center. 
Secondo had been preoccupied with his responsibilities all day. It wasn’t his fault—the workload came with his status as Papa. You didn’t blame him for it, and he was adamant to remind you that he would rather spend his time with you. But you were left on your own. You had to sate your desires—by yourself—in private whenever you had the time. It was boring after the second or third time. Your own touch wasn’t nearly the same as his. 
You knew the risks that came with teasing him (most of which would come from him), but the opportunity presented itself perfectly when you realized that he would be hosting confession. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to do something to coerce him, to convince him to focus on you instead. Taunting him with the knowledge that he missed out on your pleasure seemed like the perfect way to rile him up. 
Armed with your knowledge, you taunted him from your shadowed corner of the booth, detailing every aspect of your indulgence. Every sound you made, every fantasy that crossed your mind, every part of yourself that you touched—it all came forward in your own kind of confession. 
Secondo was good at appearing disinterested. Annoyingly good. You could get on your knees and beg for an hour straight, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He knew he could make you do whatever he wanted when you were desperate to be touched, and he used it to his advantage often.
But his silence from the other side of the confessional was more than feigned disinterest. You could practically feel the disapproval radiating through the lattice, somehow knowing he was staring with that stern gaze he only gave you. He was most intimidating when he was silent, but it was even more nerve-wracking not to be able to see his reaction. 
You made it worse by reminding him of his responsibilities; he had to continue carrying out the rest of confession for the following Siblings. You made your way out, leaving him to stew in his frustration as he was forced to ignore the aching arousal between his legs. That was the nail in the coffin. 
Once time granted him respite from his duties, he wasted no time finding you. 
Now you were sat on your knees on his bed, bent over with your face in his silken sheets. You were completely bare except for the collar around your neck and the restraints that bound your arms behind your back. You were placed near the edge of the bed, instructed to “keep your ass in the air and stay still.” 
You couldn’t see Secondo, but you could sense his steely gaze scanning every inch of your body as he stood behind you. There was no doubt he could see how wet you were; after what felt like hours of sitting here bound, you were getting desperate. 
The click of his shoes on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the room. Every echo of the sound makes you throb, your holes clenching around nothing. You’re sure that sight is obvious to him, too. But he says nothing as he looks over your restrained body. The anticipation in the air is thick, heavy on your mind as you wait for him to do or say something—anything. 
After what felt like an hour of staring, he finally reached a hand out to brush over your thigh. The cool texture of his leather glove surprises you. Secondo’s touch is featherlight, barely grazing your body as it slowly trails inward. His pace is maddening, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.
The trail of his hand stops when his fingers hover daringly close to the spot he knows you need him most. The space beside you on the mattress sinks as his knee comes to rest there. Secondo leans over you, still barely touching your skin. 
“Who does this pussy belong to?” Your senses heighten as the sound of his voice finally caresses your eardrums. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him. 
He’d discarded his regalia at this point, now wearing only the black turtleneck and dress pants he sported underneath. Just the sight of him made you want to pounce on him and make up for lost time. But you contained your impulses, humoring his demands as the threat of his dominance made you ache.
You swallow hard. The face paint he hadn’t bothered to clean off only made him look more intimidating. “You,” you whisper back to him. “You, Papa.”
“Mm. Bene…” His husky-toned affirmation almost makes you whine. “Then why did you touch it without permission?”
Secondo’s words catch you off guard at first. You start to speak, a tiny squeak leaving your mouth, but the words fail to form. You look away in embarrassment. Your eyes catch on the obvious bulge that strains against the front of his pants.
Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging firmly until your shoulders rise off of the mattress. Secondo leans in further, his breath warm against your ear. The scent of patchouli and tobacco floods your nostrils. “You will answer when I ask you a question, yes?” He growls, the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears.
You swallow hard, eyes fluttering shut at the pain on your scalp. “Yes, Papa—”
“Look at me.” You do exactly as he says, your body thrumming with desire as your eyes flicker up to meet his. “Why did you touch yourself without Papa’s permission?”
“Because, I…I was desperate, Papa.” Your heart pounds in your chest at your confession. Judging by the way he scoffs, you assume your response isn’t satisfactory. 
“Desperate?” Secondo echoes. You nod in agreement. “What, desperate to make yourself cum just so you can tell me what a disobedient, needy whore you are?” The leather of his gloves squeaks as Secondo tightens his grip.
The degrading term sends a surge of arousal through you. The sensation is only heightened by his grip on your hair. “No, no, Papa…I…I just wanted to be touched. I really, really needed it.”
“Oh, is that it, piccolina? You just needed to be touched?” You nod fervently, humming a small “mm-hmm” in reply despite the blatant mockery in his tone. “Perhaps I should remind you how you taunted me, then. The way you told me how hot and wet you were when you fucked yourself? How you came so quickly by your own hand?”
Secondo punctuates his annoyance with another firm tug on your hair. You whine, hissing slightly at the soreness in your neck. “I…I didn’t mean it, Papa,” you manage to choke out. “I just…wanted you to know how much I missed you…How much I need you.”
“It sounds to me that the only thing you ‘need’ is a lesson in restraint, sì?”
A whine rumbles in your throat at his suggestion. You want to fight back, to argue and prove your point, but that would only garner more punishment. You nod in response before realizing your muteness is unsatisfactory. “Yes, Papa.”
Secondo releases your hair and you fall forward, your face planting into the sheets. He rises off of the bed to return to his place behind you. His hands run teasingly over your body with gentle brushes that give you goosebumps. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands move further down. 
You barely feel two of his fingers glide through your slit, your wet arousal gathering on his digits. You don’t know when he removed his glove, but you relish in the warmth of his bare hand instead of the cool leather. Your hips roll towards his touch in an attempt to gain any of the friction he seems to deny you. Your wrists twist in their restraints. His fingers spread you open to reveal your entrance. 
“Look how wet you are,” he taunts. The leash attached to your collar rustles before being pulled taut. Your head jerks back, your shoulders lifting off of the bed as your back arches. You can feel Secondo’s cock—hard and straining against his pants—as he presses against you. “Open.” You hear him growl. 
The demand sends a wave of heat through you. You comply, but you’re barely able to part your lips before his hand moves away from your cunt and his fingers force their way down your throat. You fight off the urge to choke in order to remain obediently willing. 
“You wished to show me how much you needed me, sì?” You nod, humming around his fingers. “Show me, then. Take my hand like you would take my cock.”
You eagerly heed Secondo’s words. Your mouth sucks and licks his fingers with enthusiasm, savoring the taste of your own arousal as it coats your tongue. You ignore the way your body aches from the awkward position he’s contorted you in. Saliva seeps from your lips and dribbles down your chin, escaping you as you swirl your tongue around his digits the same way you do with his cock. 
“Greedy little mouth…” Secondo growls as he watches you intently. His hand stays firmly enveloped in your mouth as he presses his body against yours. You groan around his fingers when you feel his cock press against your ass. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself, pretending my cock is down your throat. You look so desperate.”
You shift on the bed, trying to clench your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction at the sound of his degrading tone. Secondo notices immediately. His hand slides out of your mouth, not caring that strands of saliva spill from your wet lips, and delivers a harsh smack to the swell of your ass. The sound echoes in the room. The sudden sting makes you cry out, your eyes widening in surprise. 
A firm tug on the leash makes you choke momentarily. “Keep your legs spread,” Secondo growls, his hand reaching down to tug at your thigh and force your legs apart while the other pulls the leash taut. “If you can’t be good, you aren’t getting touched.”
Your hands tug at their restraints, fists clenching with frustration. “I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll be good, I promise. Please touch me, please.” Your words come out in a flurry, rushed and desperate, as you pant for breath.
Secondo’s hand releases the leash, allowing you to fall forward again. His hand immediately snakes around your waist to land on the space between your thighs. Saliva-wettened fingers land on your clit and swirl in agonizingly slow circles. Your breath catches in your throat, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. Your hips jerk into his hand as a silent encouragement. 
Another sudden spank takes your breath away. His hand stops its movements and you whine. “Stay still. You’ll only take what I give you, sì?”
You nod, sighing dejectedly. “Yes, Papa.”
It takes all of your strength to keep your hips in place and resist the urge to grind into his hand when he continues to swirl his fingers. Your thighs tense and your mouth falls open with whimpers and moans. 
Secondo barely increases his pace at the sound of your pleasure. Your hands ball into fists in their restraints, a low groan ripping from your throat. You curse, desperately using every ounce of control to keep your hips still.
“Mia piccola puttana…she can be good when she wants to be, hmm?” He tilts his head, watching your pleasure-contorted features. His hand speeds up slightly and you gasp.
“Yes…Papa…Fuck…”
“She likes it, doesn’t she?”
“Yes…Yes, Papa, I like it…” Warmth pools in your abdomen, winding tighter with each swirl of his fingers. Your thighs begin to shake as you lose the battle of staying still. Your hips thrust desperately forward, eager to hit the orgasm that lingers so close to fruition. “Please, Papa. It feels so good…fuck..!”
Secondo pulls his hand away mere seconds before the warmth spills over. You cry out, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat as your orgasm slowly dissipates. Your hips buck forward as if trying to chase his touch.
“Why did you—?”
“You don’t deserve to cum yet.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument no matter how badly you want to. “Poverina…you did not think I would give you what you want that easily, did you?” Your lips part to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. “Such a greedy whore…you made yourself cum and you think you deserve it by my hand?”
“I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You whine, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea. The roll of your hips is slow as you feel the outline of his rigid length through his pants.
Another harsh slap comes down on the swell of your ass. You gasp, the sting coursing through you and halting your movements. “Now you think you deserve my cock?” Secondo’s grip digs into the skin of your hips as he accuses you, his grasp so tight you can almost feel the bruises begin to form.
“No, no, Papa. I don’t.”
“No, you don’t.” He taunts. His hand massages the red handprint blooming on your ass, soothing the lingering sting. “Are you going to start being good for Papa?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”
“Bene…” He gropes your ass, the tight grip making the welts forming on your skin sting. “Now be a good girl and ask for it. Nicely.”
“Please, Papa…I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”
Secondo scoffs at your plea. “Now I know you can beg better than that.”
A whine builds in your throat, but you swallow hard to contain it. “Please, please, please, Papa. Please touch me. I need it so fucking bad.” You pant. “I need you. I need your touch. Please.”
Without warning, two fingers push past your entrance and stretch you open. You gasp at the sensation, cursing as Secondo pumps his fingers at an unrelenting pace that gives you no time to adjust or savor the feeling. Your nails dig into your palms as you whine at each thrust of his hand. 
“Fuck! Yes, yes…” You cry out, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Thank you, Papa. Fuck me…”
Secondo’s other hand holds you in place, gripping your hip so tight you think it’ll leave bruises. His fingers curl, searching for that sweet spot that’ll leave you crying out. As soon as he hits it, you curse in a loud gasp, your back arching to push your hips into his touch. He massages the spot with each pump of his hand, sending waves of pleasure through you that make your toes curl.
“Fuck, Papa! Yes, yes, yes. Right there. Right there.” Your moans fill the room, your cries reverberating off the ornate walls. Each plea is louder than the last. Your arms tug at their restraints, your hands flexing, desperate to hold on to something, anything.
Secondo groans, his voice husky. “Desperate whore, all worked up by my hand. You love it, don’t you?” You nod and mutter a small “mm-hmm”, too overwhelmed with his pace to form a proper response. “Fottuta troia,” he growls, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging until your shoulders lift off the bed. He leans over you, his fingers still pumping with their unwaveringly strong pace. “You answer your Papa, sì?”
You wince, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure that courses through you. “Yes, Papa. I…fuck—I’m sorry, Papa,” you manage to squeak out between moans.
“Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good my hand feels.”
“It feels…so fucking good, Papa,” you whine. Your words aren’t enough, evident by the way he tugs on your hair again for encouragement. His lack of response has you on edge. “You fuck me so good. I-I love the way your hand feels in my pussy.”
The tight grip on your hair is unrelenting. The awkward position you’re held in makes your back sore, but the pleasure granted to you overrides any discomfort. Warmth builds in your abdomen yet again, swirling and coiling with the need for release. Your thighs tense, your walls tightening around his fingers as your pants grow quick and loud.
“Oh, fuck…I’m…P-please…” Your voice quivers as you beg. “Please, Papa, can I cum this time?”
Secondo nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “Oh, dolcezza,” his words seem sweet, but you recognize the mocking in his tone. “Asking like that, you almost have me convinced.” His fingers pull out of you, a wet, squelching noise accompanying their retreat. “Almost.”
The whine that escapes you is even louder, even more desperate than before. “No, Papa…why did you…” You stammer and whine, unable to form a complete sentence. You almost feel like you could cry as the coil of warmth slowly dissipates. He releases your hair, a grunt escaping you as you fall forward onto the mattress and he moves away. “Please touch me again, I can’t…I need to cum.” Your hips roll in the air, desperate for some form of contact.
“You need it?” You hear him echo, almost as if he’s mocking your plea.
You nod your head and hum a small “mm-hmm” with a whine. “Yes, Papa, I need it. I need to cum so fucking bad.” You shiver when you feel his fingertips reconnect with your heat for just a moment, barely grazing over your folds. “Please, just keep fucking me. I was so close, I—”
Secondo cuts you off with a harsh spank, the sound echoing in the room. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, dragging you backward until your ass is flush against his body. And his achingly hard cock that strains behind his pants.
“Greedy whore thinks she deserves to cum already…” He mutters as his hands trace the swell of your ass.
“No…no, Papa, I didn’t mean that…” You pant, your breath heavy. “I just…fuck, I want it so bad. Please…”
He goes silent as his hands continue to trace gently over your skin. The silence heightens both your nerves and your desperation. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence. “Tell me again, cara: who does this pussy belong to?”
“You, Papa.”
“Bene.” He presses his body more firmly against you. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of his cock so close yet trapped beneath layers. “This pussy is mine. Mine to use and fuck whenever I feel like it.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Say it.”
“My…my pussy is yours, Papa. Yours to use, yours to fuck.” You swear you feel his cock throb behind his pants.
His torso presses against your restrained wrists as Secondo leans over you. If you weren’t so afraid of being punished and denied any longer, you’d grab ahold of his shirt and tug him closer. His hands move to your hips, where his nails dig into your skin. “You cum when I tell you to. When I decide you deserve it.” His voice is a sultry whisper, like a smooth velvet that wraps around your senses. It makes you want to forget about your own desires. 
You nod, sighing at his words. “Yes, Papa.”
“If you pull another stunt like that—taunting me with your impatience—I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t cum for hours. Do you understand?”
The thought makes you shiver in a mixture of arousal and fear. You swallow hard, nodding your head again. “Y-yes Papa…”
“Are you going to be good for Papa?” His hips roll against you, and while the friction isn’t stimulating for you, it makes you gasp nonetheless. 
“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be good. I promise.”
“No more touching yourself without Papa’s permission, sì?”
“Yes, Papa.”
His hands squeeze your hips, but the gesture is more playful than painful. “Molto bene.”
Secondo ruts against you, dragging the bulge in his pants along the curve of your ass. He groans before moving to grind against your slick heat. The wetness of your arousal seeps through and stains the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 
One of his hands slides up the arch of your back, avoiding your restrained wrists and caressing your spine. “You want Papa’s cock, sì?” 
“Yes. Yes…please, Papa,” you whine breathlessly.
His other hand trails down your hip and over the swell of your ass before groping you firmly. His grasp is rough, making the welts that have formed from his spanks sting. “Beg for it, puttana.”
You sigh in frustration at his words. “Please, Papa. Please put your cock in me.” You fight with every ounce of restraint to keep your hips still. You want nothing more than to rub and bounce your ass against him, to hear him groan and curse at the friction. But you know doing so would earn you another punishment. “I want it—I need it—so fucking bad. Please, please.”
Secondo leans away from your body. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yearning harder for him. “She needs it, she says…” You hear him mock you as the faint sound of a zipper catches your attention. 
You groan at the familiar feeling of his cock as the rigid and warm flesh lands on your ass. Secondo wraps one hand around the base, his other hand gripping your hip as he guides his cock to the space between your legs. He barely brushes against you, only allowing enough contact to cover himself in your slick arousal. The light friction makes you whine.
It’s not until you feel the head of his cock rub against your swollen, neglected clit that you stop whining and start panting. It’s even harder to stay still, especially when his pace is so languidly slow. 
Your toes curl with strain. “Papa, please…I can’t…I can’t wait anymore…”
Another harsh spank comes down on your ass, making you hiss. “You can, and you will.” He growls. “Be good.” He continues the light and gentle grinding, his hands moving to rest on your ass and spread you open for his viewing pleasure. “Sathanas,” he curses, the sound making you throb and clench around nothing, which he certainly notices. “Così bagnato per me...you are a desperate little whore, aren’t you?”
“Yes, fuck yes, Papa.” Your nails dig into your palms as your body tenses in anticipation. “Please give it to me.”
He slides his cock along your folds, moving back and forth in long, sensual strokes. He pulls back to guide the head of his cock to sit at your entrance and grazes it teasingly, never pushing forward with enough force to enter you. You know he’s savoring the way you whimper and squirm. You groan, the sound turning into a whine.
“Please, Papa…” Your voice is breathless at this point, so desperate you could cry. “Please, please, I can’t wait anym—Ah!”
You’re cut off by his sudden, forceful thrust forward as he buries himself inside you with one movement. The stretch of your walls stings, making you hiss and curse. Your wrists tug at their restraints and your thighs go tense as he immediately starts a rough and unrelenting pace, giving you no time to acclimate to his intrusion.
Each thrust is met with one of your loud and desperate moans. Secondo runs his hands over the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over your skin in a manner that completely opposes his rough movements. He groans, the sound sending heat to your core, and you feel him lean over your body. 
The leash suddenly goes taut. Your head is lifted off of the mattress, strangling your moans as they leave your mouth. “This is what you wanted, sì?” He growls into your ear, punctuating his question with a set of firm thrusts. “To be fucked hard and rough like the whore you are?”
“Yes! Fuck…fuck, yes…” You cry out, voice strained against the collar around your throat. “Thank you, Papa, thank you…Lucifer below, it feels…so good…”
He leans back and pulls the leash with him. His free hand holds your hip tight, his grip strong enough to make you ache. He groans, cursing something in Italian under his breath, before spanking you again. Your walls flutter around him at the pain. “Dillo di nuovo. Tell Papa how good his cock feels.” His voice is low and rough, practically a growl, as he pounds into you.
“Your cock feels so fucking good, Papa…” Your eyes flutter shut as your head becomes light. Your moans and whines are guttural, choked out by your collar. “I love it…I love the way you fuck me…Don’t stop, Papa.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on it, puttana.” Secondo punctuates the word with a particularly rough thrust, making you cry out with a strangled moan. “You’re going to cum for me—when I tell you to.”
The room fills with sounds of your pleasure; moans and cries leaving your lips and the repeated, quick slapping of skin against skin. His own groans hit your ears and excite you further. He pounds into you with a relentless rhythm, quick and hard thrusts that make your body tremble under him.
“Papa…I’m gonna—fuck…” You feel your thighs shake, unsteady as the warmth in your abdomen tightens.
“Not yet.” He snaps back. He tugs on the leash again, making your head lighter as air escapes your lungs. “Solo un’altro po…”
It’s almost impossible to hold on any longer. The heat that swirls in your abdomen coils tighter and tighter with each thrust, the impending release crescendoing with no sign of stopping. All you can choke out is a quiet, strained “please” in between his powerful thrusts. 
Secondo groans at your tight and wet heat, the sound turning into a slight chuckle that reverberates in your ear as he leans in. “Poverina…you need it, don’t you?” His voice is light and sweet despite the mockery in his tone. You nod before muttering a small “yes, Papa” in return. “Cum for me, tesoro. Cum on Papa’s cock.” He growls in your ear, his pace never wavering.
It takes only a few more of his rough thrusts to send you over the edge. The sound that leaves you is one you didn’t know you could make: a loud and guttural moan built up from constant denial that spills involuntarily from your lips. Your entire body tenses and trembles underneath him as waves of pleasure make you throb and clench around him. His pace never changes, working you through the high until your muscles go lax. 
His thrusts slow down until they become slow rolls of his hips against your weak body. He releases the leash, letting your head fall against the mattress with a soft thud. His hands trail over your breasts as he leans to place a small, gentle kiss on your back between your shoulder blades. 
“I’ve never heard you make those pretty sounds before.” He mutters against your skin. His hands knead your chest as he continues to roll his hips against you languidly.
A weak smile forms on your face. “I…I told you I was desperate,” you pant between heavy breaths. You groan with each of his thrusts, the leisurely pace doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for—ah—letting me cum…”
His hands trail down your body, his touch tracing your curves before returning to your hips as he leans back. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dolcezza.”
You barely process his words before he pounds into you again. He wastes no time finding another intense and rough rhythm. Your body tenses as the overstimulation makes you whine, your hands balling into fists as they tug at their restraints. You cry out, your body shaking under the power of his thrusts.
“Fuck, Papa! Shit, shit, shit…”
Secondo’s deep groans fill the air, complimented by the wet sounds of sex. “Merda. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.” One of his hands lands on the small of your back, purposefully avoiding your bound wrists.
Every thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, surges of overstimulating ecstasy that course through every inch of your body. It’s an overwhelming sensation, making every muscle tense and every moan and whimper more desperate than the last. Your noises only spur him on, each pathetic sound met with a powerful thrust that makes you whine louder. 
“Papa…fuck, I can’t…it’s too much…” Your knuckles turn white as you ball your hands into fists. The overstimulation hurts, but the pain only adds to the pleasure he gives you. You trust him enough to know he’d drop everything if you were genuinely hurt. But right now, he knew you had no interest in stopping.
The leash suddenly goes taut, your head lifting off of the mattress again at his sudden tug. He spanks you again, your cry strangled by his sharp tug on the leash. “Fucking take it,” you hear him growl. Another spank makes you whine. “You’ll take my cock until I’m done with you, puttana.”
You groan at his words, your back arching into his thrusts. “Y-yes, P-Papa…”
His thrusts turn sharp and quick as he ruts against you. It’s primal and needy—almost animalistic—the way he moves. Each slap of his hips against your ass makes you hiss, the welts left from his hand stinging at every movement. Your body remains tense, every drag of his cock along your walls causing you to clench around him.
“Così fottutamente buono...questa figa è perfetta, tesoro…” You can barely hear his low, husky voice over the sound of skin meeting skin. Secondo tugs again on the leash, making you groan as your head jerks back. He leans down until his breath hits your ear. “You’re going to cum again for me, dolcezza.” His tone is clear—his words are a command, not a suggestion. “I want to feel this pussy milk my cock.”
The vulgarity in his words makes you whine. “Yeah…yes, Papa—fuck, I wanna milk your cock dry.”
“Sì, that’s what you want, giusto? You want Papa to cum in you and fill you up?” He growls in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.
“Fuck, yes. Yes, Papa, I want your cum…Please, pump me full.” You strain to speak against the tight collar, but your plea is loud and desperate. 
You can hear his breathing growing heavier. You can tell he’s getting close. He shoves his cock as deep as he can as his thrusts turn into forceful rolls of his hips as he grinds against you. The friction makes the marks on your ass sting. 
Secondo’s free hand snakes around the curve of your hips, wasting no time finding your swollen and aching clit. His fingers swirl in time with each movement of his hips. The rhythmic pace between his deep penetration and the delicious friction of his hand makes you writhe under him. 
You curse, your hips jerking wildly into his hand and against his hips, too overstimulated to find a rhythm. “Papa…Papa..!” You cry out and whine as your eyes screw shut. 
He knows exactly how to make you tremble, all of the movements that send you closer to the edge and make you melt under his touch. The repeated clenching of your cunt makes him groan and curse. 
“Fuck, Papa! I’m gonna…Sathanas, I’m gonna cum again, shit…” You feel your thighs shake and tremble, every muscle in your body tensed as the heat in your abdomen returns, mounting to a high.
Secondo pants, tugging on the leash again. “Dai, dai…cum for me, cum for Papa.”
The dual pleasure leaves you unable to resist, the sensations overwhelming your body. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the last. Your body shakes and your moans turn into whines as the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed. You don’t even notice the few tears that escape as you writhe and tremble. He works you through the high, his hand swirling perfectly against your sensitive core to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He only removes his hand once your whines turn to hisses. 
The continuous, rough movements enacted on your overwhelmed body borders on pain. But you know he’s close, evident by his heavy breathing and groans as he pounds into you with the last of his strength. His grip is tight on your hip as the other hand holds your leash taut to keep your body in place.
With one final powerful thrust, Secondo stills as he spills himself into you. You feel every kick and pulse of his cock as he fills you. He groans, growling something in Italian, but you’re too far gone to comprehend it. He releases his grip on the leash, allowing your head to fall to the mattress.
Your body goes lax as he pulls out of you. Both of you grunt at the sensation. A wet squelch fills the air as you whine at the emptiness, too accustomed to his presence despite how overwhelming it feels. Your hips fall flat on the bed as you pant for breath and groan at the soreness in your back. 
A wave of relief courses through you as your wrists are released from their restraints. The ache in your shoulders is painfully evident now that you can move freely. You roll onto your side, blinking heavily as you look up to see Secondo’s face. 
His paint is smeared in various places, streaked by beads of sweat. His chest heaves with his own heavy breaths. You get the urge to scold him for exerting himself at his age.
He leans over you, reaching down to unfasten the collar around your neck. You instinctively tilt your head to make the process easier. You sigh when the garment is removed, allowing your skin to breathe and give your neck a break. Your eyes are heavy as you watch him place the collar and restraints on the nightstand with care. 
Secondo leans down again, running a hand through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Un momento, bella,” he mutters against your skin before leaning away.
You watch as he walks in the direction of the adjoining bathroom before he disappears past the doorway. A small smile graces your face. It was easy to get intimidated by him, by his steely gaze and guarded demeanor, but he showed you a tenderness that no one else could match. 
It was never as evident as it is in these moments. When he walks back into the room with a damp washcloth in his hand, your heart swells. He always takes the time to treat you so gently after sex, especially when it’s rough. 
He cleans you carefully, running the washcloth over your flushed skin. He moves you with a sense of care and worship, like you’ll shatter beneath his touch if he isn’t careful. The warmth of the wet fabric is soothing, making you sigh with each stroke. He occasionally leans down to place kisses along your skin.
Once you’re clean, he lays the cloth on the nightstand. You know he’ll retrieve it later, probably after you’ve drifted off to sleep. He guides you to lay against the pillows, helping you move in your sore state. You groan at the aching pain in your body—the sting of your ass, the soreness in your shoulders, the aching of your back. He runs a hand over your thigh, fingers barely grazing your skin as his touch trails over the swell of your ass. 
“You’re still red,” Secondo remarks. You feel the slight tingle of discomfort, your skin warm from the welts that have formed. “You must still be sore.”
You can hear the concern in voice, almost as if he regrets what he did. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?”
You smile at him, at his worry. “Yes, I’m sure.” You extend an arm towards him, beckoning him closer with your hand. “Now come here. I want you to lay with me.”
“Oh, is that right?” He teases. Despite his sarcastic tone, he’s already kicking off his shoes. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. It is. You need your rest too, old man.”
You hear him scoff before he climbs onto the bed and situates himself beside you. “‘Old man’, huh?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest. He’s careful to keep distance between your hips so as not to irritate your welted skin. “Stai attento, mia cara. You wouldn’t want another punishment so soon, would you,”
You giggle at his words, laying your hand atop his arm and pulling him closer. You groan as you settle against the bed, attempting to allow your aching body to relax. You feel his arm move away from your waist. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb massaging firm circles into your sore muscles. The gesture makes you smile, your head turning back to look at him.
“You don’t have to do that, Papa.”
“Oh, of course I do,” he responds, his hand working towards your shoulder blades. His lips brush over your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Mia piccola bellezza was so good for her Papa. She deserves to be taken care of.” His lips land on your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder. “You’re always so good for Papa,” he mutters between kisses.
He leans in to kiss you, and you turn to meet his movement. The gesture sends sparks through you. You smile against his lips, pressing into his kiss and relishing in the warmth that blooms in your chest. 
You don’t know when you fell asleep after that. You laid there, allowing him to tend and care for you however he felt necessary. Not every touch was meant to massage or tend to your sore muscles, but you didn’t care. Just having his hands on your body was enough. 
This was how he showed his love to you, and you found nothing but comfort and security in his arms.
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rascal-xo · 2 years ago
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HI!!
Im here to make a Lil chubby ghost request 🙏💕 (your writing is SO good btw)
kinda like a part 2 to sweet indulgences??? So like reader cooks a bunch of baked goods for him and he gains weight bc of it and gets insecure about it and reader reassures him n stuff (make it smutty if you want ‼️)
If you do this THANK YOU YOU'RE A BLESSING TO SOCIETY
Sweet Nothings | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader |
This is a part 2 to Sweet Indulgence but can be read as a standalone <3
Chapter Summary: Being home from the chaos of the 141, Simon basks in his wife’s love language which happens to be baking, leading to a little insecurity.
Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, insecurities, Domestic!Simon
Word Count: 1.7K
Tags: @whirly-birbs 💛
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You awoke up early in the morning, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face Turning your head to the side and saw Simon still sound asleep beside you. You can't help but watch as his chest rose and fell with each long breath he took. You couldn’t help but reach out and run your fingers through his hair,
In his sleep, Simon was at a peace he didn’t know out in the field. He was undisturbed in his rest, laying on his stomach, with an arm lazily draped over your midsection.
You couldn't resist leaning in to press a soft kiss against his forehead, savoring the warmth of his skin against your lips. You pulled back and watched as he shifted slightly, his breathing deepening once again as he settled back into a deeper sleep.
You took a moment to appreciate the peacefulness of the moment, knowing it would be short-lived once Simon had to return to work. You let your gaze travel over his face, taking in the faint scars and the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that appeared when he smiled.
You remembered the day you met him, the way he had looked at you with those same eyes, your heart swelled with love for this man who had sacrificed so much. Finally, he stirred again, and this time his eyes opened. He looked at you sleepily, his lips quirking up into a small smile. "You’re up early, love," he said, his voice husky from sleep.
You smiled back at him, feeling your heart skip a beat at the sight of him. "Go back to sleep Si. You should rest.” You said, your voice quiet close to his face. He responded sleepily, pulling you closer to him, and letting himself fall back into the sleep he so desperately deserved.
You let yourself stay cuddled in his embrace for a little while longer before finally deciding to get up. You picked his t shirt off of the floor and slipped it over your body. It reached your mid thighs, fitting you like a dress. It was the way Simon liked you best walking around the house.
Simon being home meant you could spoil him in your favorites of ways, especially baking. One thing about your husband was that he was a sucker for anything you made. It was your language, and who couldn’t want to wake up to the smell of fresh pastries or baked goods?
You tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to wake him, and made your way to the kitchen after freshening up. You preheated the oven and started gathering the ingredients for Simons favorite blueberry muffins.
As you put together the batter, you couldn't help but think about how lucky you were to have Simon home with you for the next three weeks. It was rare that you got this much time together, and you wanted to make the most of it.
Once the muffins were in the oven, you cleaned up the kitchen and headed back to the bedroom. Simon was still sound asleep, and you couldn't resist climbing back into bed beside him.
You snuggled up close to him, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady thump of his heart. It was slower than a regular heartbeat, like the deep rumble of distant thunder. Each beat was deliberate and purposeful, as if his heart was taking its time to rest and recover after the stresses of being in the field
After a while, the timer for the oven went off, and you reluctantly began to pull yourself away from Simon's embrace to go and check on them. “Leaving so soon?” His voice sounded huskily from next to you.
“Made you something special, for when you get up.”
“Smell’s amazing.” Simon smiled at you as you got out of bed, watching you move with an ease and grace that always left him a little breathless. But as he watched you leave, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity.
Over the past few weeks he’d been home, he had gained some weight, and not that he wouldn’t give anything to be able to eat your food all the time, he also found himself feeling self-conscious about it.
He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, his eyes drawn to his reflection in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw.
He sighed, running his hands over his stomach, feeling the softness of the flesh there. He had always been in peak physical condition as far as special forces gave him the ability to, but the past few weeks being home had taken their toll on him.
He made his way back to the bedroom and got dressed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were standing at the counter, your back to him, as you pulled the last of the muffins out of the oven.
You turned around, your eyes lighting up at the sight of Simon. "Morning," You said, holding one of the baked goods out to him.
Simon took the muffin from you, his eyes flickering down for a moment. "Thank you, love" he said, his voice quiet. "These look amazing."
You looked at him, sensing that something was off. "What's wrong, Si?" You asked, your voice gentle. You moved closer to him wrapping an arm around his midsection and looking up to gaze.
“Don’t you feel like I've let myself go, love?” He finally spoke, his voice a little softer. He looked down at you with an expression in his eyes you hadn’t quite seen like this.
You could see the vulnerability in Simon's eyes, and it broke your heart. You took a step closer, your arms going a bit loose around him to get a better look at his face. “Oh, Si, no. I love how you look." you answered instantly.
Simon let out a small sigh, his arms resting on your hips. "I just feel like I'm not as fit as I used to be," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You don't need to change a thing, Si.“ You repeated again, kissing his stubbled cheek softly. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, “Besides, I love you like this. Being at home in one piece is a good look on you.” You chuckled.
Simon's expression softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you." he said, his voice filled with emotion. “My sweet girl.”
You pulled back from his embrace for a second, taking in the morning glow of his face, before reaching up to pull his lips to yours, resting your hand on the back of his neck.
Simon’s lips softly pressed against yours. His hand caressing your hips, as you wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened as your passion intensified. Simon's tongue lightly traced the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, and you eagerly parted allowing him to deepen the kiss.
Your tongues dance together in a slow, sensual rhythm as your bodies press against each other, trying to find a way to be closer than you already were
Simon broke the kiss, moving along your jawline, down to your neck, leaving a trail of sweet, tender kisses. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to Simon's lips. You let out a soft sigh, melting into his touch.
His hands explore your body, running under your thighs moving his t shirt higher up. He began to lower himself, and you moaned softly as his lips found their from your nipples down your lower stomach, leaving a trail of kisses along the way.
Your hands tangled in his messy hair as he continued to explore your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You felt a rush of desire wash over you as he moved his kisses down to the insides of your thighs, sucking on the exposed skin.
You let your legs fall open, offering yourself to him completely, and Simon took full advantage, his hand bringing your right leg to rest over his shoulder, exposing your heat to him.
You looked up, his eyes now dark with desire. You could see the hunger and longing in his gaze, and it only added to your own desire.
Simon's tongue found its way to your clit, and you moaned as his tongue began to explore you. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
You couldn't hold back your moans, your body writhing beneath his touch as he continued to pleasure you. Simon's fingers found their way inside you, moving in sync with his mouth, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Your breathing became ragged as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. You arched your back, holding onto the counter behind you. Your fingers digging into his hair as you let out a cry of pleasure. Simon didn't stop, continuing to work his magic. “Fuck, I’m close, Si.” You could barely make out the words.
Simon's eyes were fixed on you, his focus solely on giving you pleasure. He groaned, quickening his pace, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations running through your body.
Your walls began to tighten around his fingers, and you knew you were close. Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy.
You came hard, your body shaking with pleasure as you rode out your high. Simon's mouth and fingers stayed with you throughout, never letting up until you were completely spent.
He stood up, his face now level with yours, his lips claiming yours once again. You could taste yourself on him, the sensation only adding to your desire.
You could feel his hardness pressed against you, and you knew that he wanted you just as badly as you needed him. You looked up into his eyes and nodded, silently giving him permission to take you.
He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. You captured his mouth again, “Show me how much you love me.” You mumbled against his lips.
And that he did.
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dilftaroooo · 2 years ago
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a lil something for my black gorls bc apparently every reader in this fandom is fair skinned </3
oh lord ghost turns into holy spirit bc of how much he worships u and yo body goodness gracious (i am so sorry father god 💀🧎🏽‍♀️). got carried away. p.s. yall i haven’t written anything in a hot minute so this small thirst might be raggedy as hell (my coochie was doin the thinking)
tags: smut + afab reader + ghost loves you sm + just as much as u love him + finger lickin good pussy eatin + body worship + slight dumbification + i was planning on making him rough with u but then i went soft :) + p power + piv sex + barely proofread + im so sleepy i’ll probably edit the format later + forgot how much i fucking hate tumblr’s editing antics.
You had lost count already. How many times you came to be exact. Has it gone up to Two? Three? Yeah—three. At least that’s what you think. Well—you suppose thinking is starting to become more and more of a rare luxury considering the state you were in—dazed and stupid. Eyes decorated with a red glow from the tears that spilled from them along with a glossy sheen that finished the look.
Subtle hints of wet mascara slid down the apples of your cheeks as Ghost’s fingers delve deep within your wet entrance. His digits were more than acquainted to the slimy ridges that lived inside of you. He graciously pets your most sensitive spots with the utmost care, making your pussy scream as his moist lips kisses your bothered clit as though he’s cooing it to sleep. His tender nature juxtaposes the foreboding gleam of his skull mask and dark eyes drowning in war paint.
It’s those eyes. The ones that made you shiver and whine whenever they catch sight of you. The ones that glare under dim, yellow lights when you inevitably made him jealous. Enough to make them turn green. The ones that form crescent moons whenever he reminds you how much he loves you (the mild appearance of crow’s feet adorning the outer corners). Those eyes—
God, those big fucking eyes.
Sweat makes your melanin coated skin glisten, emitting a warm glow that send tingles up Ghost’s spine. He can feel the goosebumps covering his body as you inadvertently arch your back, pushing your warm sex up against his upper lip, making him groan into your sensitive nub. Your core tighten once more, your pedicured toes stretched across the apex of his back, polish chipped and damaged from irritation, the power of your orgasm jolting you with a hot flash.
Now it's your fourth time.
Brown areolas raise up and down from your big breaths, in the process of coming down from that high you’ve encountered just a second ago. But Ghost doesn’t know rest as he gorges your nipple in his mouth, adoring the quick yelp escaping your lips.
“Ah, Ghost…” You say with kind fragility. Your palms lightly tap his shoulder. Not telling him to stop but telling him to slow down. It was too much. His hands caressed your naked curves. He loved admiring your body. Taking the time to relish just how gorgeous you really are—from head to toe:
Your cornrows styled in intricate parts, freshly layered with the tropical smell of coconuts. Skin gleaming with the overly used shea butter that rarely missed a day off your body. Lips full and plump and coated with that cherry chapstick he loves to taste. Your breast were round and soft to the touch. And your pussy—Fuck, that pussy shined with your juices. Juices he created from fucking you silly with his fingers.
Ghost wasn’t a religious man. He never was. But of all the possible religions out there, your pussy was the one he worshiped the most.
He loved this pussy. Kneeled for this pussy. Prayed for this pussy.
Your being was his shrine and your name was his mantra. He couldn’t get enough of you and your light touches and gentle praises. Ghost couldn’t find more ways to thank you for your existence.
He releases your nipple with a soft pop and utters a voice lower than you’ve ever heard him use, “I need you, love.” You don’t take long to nod with evident fervor. Languidly aiding him in unbuckling his pants and releasing him from those tight restraints.
“I need you,” He repeats. “need that soaking wet cunt.” His Mancunian accent is thick and laced with desire when his mouth spewed that last word. You let go of a wanting mewl before spreading the dark, puffy lips that lead to your sopping wet hole. Just what he wanted.
You both moan in unison as you both get what you want. His hand engulfed yours and you’re quickly reminded of how big he is. His fingers are long and thick. Your legs twitch as you remember how they feel rubbing inside you. He leisurely finds his way deep in your sex. Your tightness pains him in the way that he likes. Leaning down to grunt into your ear, nose filled with that familiar coconut scent, you clench around him when his teeth bites down at the shell of your ear.
He loves you. He loves you so much—your hair, your eyes, your lips, your smile, your voice, your taste, your scent. You’re wonderful. Breathtaking. Beautiful. So so beautiful. He’s so glad he has you. That you’re in his arm moaning so prettily for him. And its almost unbelievable to him that you think of him the same way he thinks of you.
Once your breathing gets heavier and his thrusts gets sloppier and your eye starts twitching, you both finally succumb to the hot rush of pleasure. You don’t object to his heavy weight toppling over you after he fills you up (you encourage it with a hug despite how heavy he is). It feels good—laying like this. So intimate. You pet the back of his head taking in his warmth. Time passes before he slowly looks up at you, his eyes the same temperature as both of your bodies meshed together, and he suddenly states,
“That’s your fifth one, doll.” And you can’t help the quiet snicker that leaves you before giving him a playful slap to his arm, telling him to shut up. You somehow manage to catch a small glimpse of him rolling his eyes beneath that inky mask of his. This was intimate indeed. You finish off the night with a kiss to his forehead and you felt your heart flutter when he answered with a subdued hum.
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tb3ih · 2 years ago
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BLOOMING SEASON (pt. 2), kamisato ayato/reader.
SYNOPSIS... people like Kamisato Ayato who are not like the seasons do not have hearts that can withstand the test of time OR perhaps at the end of the day, you are well-deserved of change (or Sora says so).
⋆ warnings, kamisato ayato & fem-presenting!reader, gentle angst, hehe in-laws, THE CHILD (sora), introduction of reader's family, + comfort for once :) [making a part 3 bc i want a better happy ending tbh]
⋆ notes, thinking about how i was just sobbing my eyes out to 'nobody gets me' by sza for no reason
⋆ tags! @stellakito @iiyumii @neverlandlostchild @hotgirlshit5 @jureminha @yunniemai1 @iamnotobsessed @irisxiel @lumpywolf @mrs-heelshire @kunikuzushisbeloved @pineapplesneedrights @kiyoomiwo @hyunromi @simplyhumanlol @esthelily @chiisananingen
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"Y/N-CHAN?" you know that voice too well, all the might in your body you used to hold yourself together wavering at the simple honorific.
your twin brother looks half asleep, deep burgundy hair lopsided and unstyled, black yukata not even properly tied, and eyes hardly able to remain open. even the guards at his chamber doors appeared startled.
you choke out his name, unable to even make it a step before your throat starts burning and closing up. gou wastes no time in rushing forward in that instant, vision alight and a worried emotion in his eyes as he pulls you into him.
for once in your life, you are grateful for him having grown into such a tall, well-built older brother, his arms firm and unyielding in the way they hold you against his chest. if you remember correctly, this was the way it had always been when you as the only daughter of the hayashi clan took the brunt of the elders' prevailing orders, from attending events in place of your late parents to managing foreign affairs for the clan.
or even giving yourself away to kamisato ayato in hopes of civilizing relations between the clans.
arms tightening just a little as you continue your sobbing, his eyes fall to akane who stands a little distance back carrying your resting daughter.
"anata? is everything alright? who's out there at this hour?" emica, gou's bride and perhaps one of your most cherished people, steps out from the bedchamber as well. gou is hesitant to let you go, but he does, allowing you to collect yourself just a little to face your sister-in-law. "y/n-san? you're—oh archons! come here, sweetie!"
you waste no time rushing into her arms, the smell of peach blossoms and the ocean filling your senses as she envelops you. if your loveless marriage had brought you any sort of joy (other than your daughter) it would be that gou was able to marry for love. kaedehara emica, oldest sister to kazuha and named matriarch of her clan in absence of her brother, she was a samurai to be reckoned with. albeit her brazen attitude towards the elders of the hayashi estate, she was kind and always ready to welcome you into her arms.
"gou, honey, bring sora to the twins' room and let her rest in there," emica says, her hand soothing against your back as she allows you to weep on her shoulder. "poor lady akane has had a long night and doesn't need to hold her anymore."
gou nods, "of course, dearest." another attendant appears to guide the three away down another hallway.
it takes a few minutes for you to recover, but emica is patient, never faltering in comforting you. after all, having been engaged only a few weeks before your parents would pass, she too would come to witness the cruelty of the elders and their treatment of the only daughter of such a highly regarded clan. she would scowl at the thought.
emica hums, "y/n-tan, are you hungry?" you meet her eyes, her expression soft and warm. "i bet cook will make his favorite patron some omurice if she were to ask~ hm?"
you laugh a little, throat a little hoarse from crying. you were a little dizzy, so you supposed some food wouldn't hurt. plus, chef was perhaps second to only your mother in terms of authority figures in your childhood. it would be a shame if you didn't stop by to pay respects to him. "i suppose you're right..."
your sister-in-law giggles, slipping an arm around your waist to walk beside you to the kitchen. "of course i'm right, i'm always right."
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"I'LL kill that bastard, i swear it to celestia," gou seethes, setting his cup of tea back on the table. "how dare he speak in such a manner? has he forgotten his place?"
you are currently on your third plate of omurice, eyes observant as you watch the couple before you take in the information you have just set before him.
emica laughs softly, "now now, dear i'm sure even y/n would like to push war as one of the very last options of action. i'm sure she's at least thought of something more civil which might resolve the conflict at hand. y/n?"
you clear your throat with a sip of milktea. "divorce. seeing as how the yashiro commission had much to gain from this union, we have nothing to lose except friendly relations." you take another bite and speak once more after swallowing. "besides, had it not been for the hayashi clan, the raiden shogun would not have even considered a pardon for the yashiro commission all those years ago."
gou snorts. "i'm sure there are many things this whole damn city wouldn't have had, if it weren't for the most gracious hayashi clan." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before once more meeting your stare. "your solution would definitely be opposed by the elders, is that something you're willing to take on?"
emica takes your hand squeezing it lightly and offering the warmest smile. she turns to her husband. "even if it isn't, she mustn't forget the simple fact that she won't be alone and never again will be."
the thought has you smiling softly to yourself. in light of all the struggles and conflict within the noble clans of inzauma, you were happy to find a home within the people you cherished.
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"AUNTIE! auntie!" two giggling and nearly identical figures come running up to you, hugging at either of your legs. akio is the one who exclaims out, asking "when did you come home?"
kentaro, tugging gently on the skirt of your kimono on your left, though curious, refrains from being as loud as his counterpart. "is everything okay, auntie?"
you kneel down, embracing the two in a tight hug, ruffling their burgundy hair just enough to get them to exclaim out. you supposed they were at the age where they liked to keep up appearances, even if just a little. "now now, didn't your mother teach you it's rude to bombard guests with questions all at once? hm?"
reaching out to poke him lightly on the cheek, kentaro makes a frown, mumbling a small "told you so" to his brother, who in return sticks his tongue out. you let go of them, opting to hold their hands instead.
"auntie and cousin sora are going to be staying here for a while, there's some building going on back at uncle's mansion. is that okay with the twins?" you feel a small pang in your heart at the mention of your husband, whom the twins hardly ever see.
the two nod, akio once again speaking first. "that's okay with kentaro and akio! i hope the building gets done soon!"
kentaro hums in agreement. "as long as auntie is comfortable in our home."
"akio! kentaro! where are my little boys?" emica calls them from the entrance of the courtyard, waving lightly to you. the boys respond accordingly, going to run off to their mother, but not before kissing you on either side of your cheeks and racing off.
standing up once more, you wave back to your sister-in-law before she heads in with the boys, reminding you of why you came out to the courtyard, to begin with. "okaasan?"
sora stands behind you, a couple of sakura blooms in her hands, the beautiful pink petals still crackling a little with electro. you smile warmly, holding your arms out to catch her in your arms and hoist her on her hip.
"having fun?" sora giggles, nodding and showing you the bloom in her hand. her vision glows on her headband, lavender strands of hair threatening to spill out from behind the hairpiece.
"akio and kentaro were showing me around the garden and i thought okaasan might like a sakura bloom!" her smile is proud and chuckle.
"well, it's very beautiful, thank you." the two of you watch as she brings her powers to life, electrifying the petals only to scatter them in the air above. "where did you learn to do that?"
sora giggles. "guuji yae! i finished my lessons at the shrine early and she said to practice this so i could show you." pausing, she continues the next part a little softly. "okaasan's been sad lately and hasn't been playing with sora..."
an ache pulls at your heart. "awh, my sweet, i'm sorry," you apologize, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "it's true, okaasan's been a little sad lately."
her small hands go to twist lightly at your hair. "does okaasan's heart hurt? sora's heart hurts a little when she's sad too!"
oh, my little sora...
"y-yeah... okaasan's heart hurts a little." you watch her expression carefully, her violet irises continuing to be attentive to your hair.
she taps her chin, as if to think. "hmm, kentaro says to get better from being sad you have to say 'farewell' to the things that make your heart hurt." sora smiles as she lets go of your hair, seemingly satisfied with her styling job. her eyes focus on your own.
"sora loves otosan, but if okaasan is sad, sora thinks it's okay to say bye-bye."
the pink sakura petals have begun to rain down, floating slowly with the absence of wind. sora cuddles softly against your chest, yawning softly. you think back to when ayato had called you naive to hope for love. "sora loves okaasan too."
you stare at the falling petals, the courtyard shifting in hues with the setting sun. it is quiet where you stand holding sora, the trees mute and the clouds watchful as they pass a mother and daughter from overhead.
your chest does not feel heavy when you weep this time, but rather, the ache seems to lessen as you cry softly with sora against you. it smells like spring all around you and you are comfortable in your kimono in the early evening. there are potted glazed lilies that have begun to peek out to watch you, the naku weed glowing softly around the perimeter. perennials all around have also begun to fill the greenery with pretty colors.
just as seasons change, you thought, so should you.
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part 1 ! | part 3 ! | part 4 ! | part 5 ! (still in progress)
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© tb3ih mmxxii all rights reserved.
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thegalaxysedge22 · 3 months ago
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After Ever (Chapter 3)
< Prev | Next >
pair: sylus x MC (named)
tags/tw: death/grief, the absolute pain of research, annoying MC, cannon adjacent
word count: 4.6k
song rec: bad blood by taylor swift
a/n: this is quite the lore drop
important: if you want to follow this fic and updates but don't want to follow me bc im annoying (understandable) check out the tag #after ever fanfiction also if anyone wants i can start a tag list
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Work was slow yet again when Kore returned to the Hunter’s Association, leaving her with a lot of time with her thoughts. Something about the death of Dr. Higgins occuring at the same time as the death of her Grandma didn’t seem quite right. That was where her downward spiral began.
Through her clearance with the Association she was able to obtain police reports and the medical autopsy. She spent the morning meticulously going through all of it, looking for any inconsistencies that could tie the two explosions together.
Lost in thought, her eyes became unfocused from the screen, that’s when she spotted something new. On one of the police reports she had open she noticed a faint mark to the side. Zooming in on it, the writing was illegible, but it looked like something had been written in with pencil.
Despite all the advancements in technology over the recent years, the cops tended to keep things old-school, using paper copies of reports when they could and scanning them into the database once they were done. Although inefficient, their success rate showed that it seemed to work for them, so no one forced any change.
Squinting, Kore tried her best to make out the notes in the margins, but it was illegible. In a desperate attempt she took a screenshot of the paper and adjusted the contrast of the image. The markings started to become clearer and when she adjusted the sharpness of the image she could make out one word with a question mark afterwards.
Onychinus?
Hearing footsteps approaching, she took a post it note and scribbled down the word before closing the image and minimizing the reports. She quickly opened some random tab to make it look like she had been working.
Tara appeared, poaching herself on the top of Kore’s cubicle, tilting her head in curiosity. “You don’t look very well rested,” she said accusingly. Kore had forgotten her promise to her friend to rest.
“I tried my best, but it’s been difficult, I keep reliving it," Kore said, trying to deflect blame. While it wasn’t entirely a lie, she did leave out details of her rather adventurous trip. Worry plastered Tara’s face and she nodded solemnly.
“I was stopping by to see if you wanted to get some lunch,” Tara asked, changing the subject.
“I think I’ll have to pass today, I have a lot of work to get done,” Kore apologized. Tara knew damn well that that was a lie, but she didn’t push it. It was then that Captain Jenna also came over to Kore’s desk. Tara barely spared a glance at the captain, showcasing just how deep her concern went.
“Sorry to interrupt ladies, I was just wondering if I could talk to Kore for a moment,” the captain said.
“That’s alright, I was just leaving,” Tara told her, eyes still trained on her friend as she walked away.
“Kore, can I talk to you in my office please,” Captain Jenna asked. A stroke of fear overtook Kore’s expression to which she was offered a reassuring smile. “No need to worry, it isn’t anything bad.”
Kore gave her captain a brisk nod and followed her back to her office. Once the door was closed, Jenna offered her a seat while she took her place at the other side of the desk.
“I wanted to check in on you, Kore,” Captain Jenna said, folding her hands on her desk, “I know it has been hard for you recently, so I wanted to see how you are doing.”
“I am alright,” Kore said, she was in fact not alright. The Captain raised an eyebrow at this, it was clear that neither of them believed the words that just came out of Kore’s mouth. It was not a secret that she had become a husk of herself since the accident, everyone who knew her could see it and she hadn’t bothered to hide the fact either.
“I know you’re relatively new here so I wanted to inform you about some of our policies. You know that we get a lot of protections and benefits working for the government. One of those is that when a loved one dies, you are entitled to bereavement leave of up to three weeks if you need it. Now I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything but you should know that you have options, if being here is too hard for you, taking time off might be your best choice.”
“In all honesty,” Kore started, vulnerability wavering in her voice, “I think that working has helped me take my mind off of things. When I am left alone with my thoughts, I start to go down a slippery slope.”
“I had a feeling you might say something like that,” the captain responded with a sympathetic smile. “I also wanted you to know that we do offer counseling free of charge. Although it is typically reserved for work related trauma, I would be more than happy to pull a few strings and make an exception.”
“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I think I have to decline for now.”
“Alright, well, that is all I have for you, so you can go ahead and get back to work,” Jenna said, dismissing Kore. Kore made a move for the door, about to exit when Jenna stopped her, “Please let me know if you change your mind at all.” 
“I will,” Kore gave the captain a weak smile. With that she started to return back to her desk, the idea of taking time off completely out of her brain. On her way there she took note of how the office was largely deserted, most people on their way to lunch. Grateful for a bit of peace and quiet, Kore turned back on research mode and started digging into this “Onychinus.” She couldn’t help but wonder if they had any connection to her family’s deaths.
With a pad of paper and a pen she scoured the Association’s databases, typing in the word nothing came up. She tried various other phonetic spellings of it with only zero results to appear. She tried “Onychinus” once more, this time something did turn up.
Did you mean “N109 Zone”? The database asked her. She wasn’t sure how they could be related, it wasn’t like you could misspell “N109 Zone” that badly, but it was a start.
Clicking on the link she was brought to another page. A sigh of relief passed through her. We are finally getting somewhere, she thought. The results were limited, 51 to be exact.
She had heard whispers of the N109 Zone before, but it was something that was treated more like an urban legend rather than a real place. It was hard to get a clear picture of everything as most things seemed to be redacted to shit. Most sources seemed to be regurgitating the same information over and over again, it seemed like the area was once a hub for technology but has become a wasteland after the Catastrophe, controlled by cartels who made money off of the trade of illicit goods.
There were discussions of the illegal sale of protocores at auction, most of which appeared to take place in the N109 Zone. Kore wasn’t stupid, she knew that the sale of protocores must’ve been a thing, they could be worth a lot of money and they are powerful. Protocore auctions turned up dozens of reports of raids that had occurred, only a few had a passing mention of the seemingly elusive Onychinus, but that was really it.
She tried using the information she had to expand her search, but as hours passed, there was very little that she could turn up. Frustrated, she goes to Nero, the team’s tech wizard, to see if he can help. Perhaps he has higher clearance than she does, or maybe she is just bad at researching, surely he can turn something up, she rationalizes.
Nero is deeply engrossed in something when Kore reaches the dark corner he resides in. Glancing over at his screen she sees him on some forum talking about a Lumiere?
“Who’s Lumiere?” Kore asked. Nero jumped in his seat at the sudden intrusion.
“What-I was just working, I wasn’t doing anything,” Nero stumbled, trying to cover his tracks.
“Wait, you don’t know about Lumiere?” He questioned, doing a complete 180. Kore just shook her head.
“How could you be a hunter and not know about Lumiere?? They’re an icon, a legend. They were the first Hunter. When the Chronorift Catastrophe first happened in 2034, they were the first one to fight the wanderers!!! It was reported that they alone saved dozens of lives when it happened. They were a hero, I cannot believe you have never heard of them.”
Noticing his enthusiasm, Kore started plotting. If I allowed him to talk, maybe he would be more receptive to bending the rules and helping me out, regardless of my clearance level, she thought. The remorse she would feel after manipulating him was in the far corners of her mind, she was a woman on a mission after all.
“They sound incredible, can you tell me more,” Kore asked, pulling up the chair from the empty cubicle next to his. Nero’s eyes lit up at the opportunity and his whole entire demeanor changed.
“Wow, where do I even begin… Well, Lumiere’s identity has never been confirmed. There have been whispers and speculations, but if you ask me, none of them have been right, they just don’t fit the profile. After saving the city during the Catastrophe, which Lumiere did single handedly, not even the military knew how to handle the situation, at least not like Lumiere did. Anyways, after Linkon City was saved, Lumiere completely disappeared. No traces left behind at all.
“That is until about 2 years ago - on February the 26th of 2046 - rumors of a Lumiere sighting started to circulate online. A picture was posted on one of our forums and people went crazy. None of the Lumites - Lumiere fans - could agree on if it was actually them. It caused a whole big fight online. 
“But eventually more and more sightings appeared and we Lumites came to the consensus that it was Lumiere, but then that started a whole other bout of discourse. Why would they wait this long to come back? What were they doing out and about now?
“Well, through eye witnesses and photographs we were able to piece together a little bit of information. Although some Lumites contest it, it is widely accepted that Lumiere became a Tenebra. You know what that is right?”
Kore shook her head.
“Oh I thought you would know what a Tenebra is because you’re a Hunter, but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised considering you didn’t even know who Lumiere is,” Nero scoffed before his hands covered his mouth, “I am so sorry I didn’t mean to rude. Please forgive me.”
“It’s fine,” Kore waved off his words, “but what is a Tenebra?”
“Right, right. A Tenebra is someone who broke the Hunter’s Code. Although it is typically due to them engaging in illegal activities, most commonly protocore smuggling, that isn’t always the case.” Nero checked that the coast was clear before leaning in and continuing in a whisper, “For years now there has been a theory that the higher ups in the Association ask high level hunters to do some crazy things and that go against most people’s morals.
“A few high level former hunter’s have said as much, but they have widely been discredited as either addicts or having extreme paranoia, but some people think that is propaganda.” After that Nero sat back up and continued at his previous volume
“Anyways, another key component of being a Tenebra is ties to some sort of secret organization. So one can, in theory, be a Tenebra without participating in any illegal activities. And we know that Lumiere isn’t a bad person, so, it isn’t the illegal activities that potentially make them a Tenebra. No, we think that it is because Lumiere has ties to some of the groups in the N109 Zone.
“And this isn’t just a theory either - Lumiere has been spotted in the N109 Zone as recently as two weeks ago and as far back as two years. We think that Lumiere is the one who is keeping the wanderers out of the N109 Zone and that they potentially have ties to Onychinus, who is supposedly one of the big names in the N109 Zone.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Kore stopped him while he was taking a breath, “What do you know about Onychinus?”
“Well, there isn’t too much known other than they practically govern the N109 Zone, it’s thought that they have a big hand in protocore trade though, even if it can’t be confirmed. I have also heard whisperings of the name Sylus in connection to them, but I have never been able to figure out how that plays into everything.”
“What do you know about the N109 Zone,” Kore pried for more information. 
“I don’t know too much, it is well known that information about this and Onychinus is kept largely under lock and key for some reason, but I do know that it is a hotbed for crime, also that it used to be a tech hub. Ever was allegedly based there when it first opened, but you can’t find that now, for some reason they are trying to scrub the internet of their history. There’s also–” Nero suddenly got quiet.
Xavier had appeared, leaning over the cubical’s low walls. “I was looking for you, Kore,” he said, “we have a mission.”
Kore apologized to him and stood up also apologizing to Nero for leaving him, asking to talk more about this soon to which he eagerly nodded. She then followed Xavier’s retreating footsteps.
“I don’t know why you’re talking about Lumiere,” Xavier said once she caught up to him, “It is pretty well known that they died during the Catastrophe, protecting the city.”
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The wanderer was a particularly stubborn one, making it a tough fight, especially for Kore, who was already off her game. Usually, she had an uncanny ability to predict the movements of wanderers, which was why she was put in the Alpha team fresh out of the academy, but she was slightly off her game. Most of her blows were hitting the target, which was concerning considering she was the top marksman in her class. A few of her attacks were just grazes but unfortunately the wanderer could say the same. She had been grazed by the creature several. Her movements, while not exactly sluggish, were not up to her usual standard. It was mistakes like this that made her job all the more deadly.
Reloading her pistol, she took her eyes off of the wanderer, just for a moment. Big mistake. She didn’t see it coming and would’ve been hit if it wasn’t for Xavier jumping in front of her and deflecting the hit, his sword and skill easily fending off the attack.
Xavier was quick to deliver the finishing blow and Kore was left feeling ashamed. She moved off to the sidelines and fiddled with her equipment. She could feel Xavier wandering over but tried to ignore him.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said, “even the best of us have bad days.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Kore grumbled, picking lint off of her uniform.
“I’m not patronizing you, I am just letting you know,” Xavier said walking off. It was just then that Kore remembered she had something that she wanted to ask him.
“Xavier, wait,” she said, continuing when he turned back around, “Do you know anything about aether cores?”
A look of surprise flashed over his face, he was clearly not expecting that question, but he was quick to be able to mask his shock. He shook his head, responding, “No, I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Kore said accusatively, fire in her eyes. She had seen him falter and she would not drop the subject until she got what she wanted. Xavier sighed, shoulders relaxing before adjusting his posture.
“I should have known that you would be able to tell that something was different about that protocore,” Xavier said. Confused, Kore thinks back on their time together and remembers their first fight. It was in No Hunt Zone 7, the first time that they had met. She had noticed something was off about the protocore that came from the wanderer that they had fought, but she had always assumed that it was because she only had seen controlled specimens in her classes and never a real one out in the field.
“In its most basic form, an aether core is a type of protocore, one that has been modified somehow,” Xavier continued, unaware of the rapid thoughts in her mind, “it is very rare for aether cores to develop naturally and so they are often a result of human interference. Oftentimes their power dwarfs that of a regular protocore. They are very dangerous and not many people know about them, not even the Hunter’s Association.”
“If you know about the existence of aether cores, why haven’t you told the Hunter’s Association about them,” Kore questions.
“Well you know about them too, why haven’t you?” Xavier counters, her reaction is far from the ‘touche’ he expected.
“Now that I know that you have been hiding stuff from me AND the Association, how am I supposed to be able to trust you?” Kore practically shouts. Logically, she was aware that she was more mad than she had any right to be, but that didn't stop the fire that was coursing through her veins.
“Well you’re keeping something from me too, how did you find out about aether cores in the first place,” Xavier asked calmly.
“Because allegedly I have one in my body and that makes me feel like I have a right to know,” she said, her temper rising.
“You what?” Xavier said, his face paled, “What do you mean that you have an aether core inside of your body?” He didn’t even know that it was possible for a human to survive with an aether core inside of their body.
“Well apparently I was in some sort of experiment when I was younger, which I don’t remember by the way, and there was one placed in my heart and that is why I have Protocore Syndrome in the first place.”
“What do you mean ‘apparently’ you either were or you weren’t how do you know?” Xavier said, confused. Kore then recounted everything that had happened to her since Friday. 
She was so angry she didn’t gloss over any detail. It was if all at once all of her frustrations about the whole ordeal came out, the pot had boiled over. Xavier, for his part, stayed calm and collected as she went off on her verbal rampage.
“--and I need to find out more information on Onychinus because I just have a feeling that they are the fuckers responsible for this all happening but nothing is coming up–” Her avalanche of words stopped when Xavier placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I just don't know what to do,” Kore admitted as she made eye contact for the first time. Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. Xavier smoothed down her hair with his other hand. A sob escaped her and she fell against him as if she no longer had control over her body, he wrapped his arms around her as she cried. Deep down she was embarrassed with how she was conducting herself, but it had been so hard recently and she hadn’t been giving herself the time or space to just feel.
Slowly but surely, Kore was able to compose herself. Although still a sniffling mess, she pulled herself off of him and said meekly “I’m sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me.”
“I think I might have something to cheer you up. Here,” Xavier said as he fiddled with his Hunter’s Watch. He put their two watches together and hers lit up, Confirm Security Clearance was on the display. “The Association’s databases are useless if you don’t have the right level of clearance. I extended my security clearance to you so hopefully more things will turn up for you.”
“Really?” Kore said, still wiping her tears.
“If it’ll help you feel better and earn back your trust then yes,” he said, “but you should know that it only lasts for 24 hours. Now go.”
Kore looked at him appreciatively, touched by his gesture, “Thank you, Xavier, for everything.”
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The office was nearly empty when she arrived, which made sense as the day had been over for quite some time now. She had practically sprinted the entire way back, her leg wouldn’t stop bouncing the entire ride there, every stop the subway had made felt like a lifetime. As quickly as she could she got to her computer and logged in. Preparing herself for the worst, she typed “N109 Zone” in the search bar. The results were instantaneous, and she was shocked at just how much more information came up.
The redactions in the records that she had been reading earlier were fewer, but not gone completely. She was, however, able to learn more about these supposed protocore auctions that took place there. The auctions were allegedly held at a place only referred to as Elysium and it seemed that the vast majority of them were run by the group Onychinus. There’s that name again, she thought to herself.
Scanning the screen again she noticed that with this level of security clearance, a new database had been unlocked for her the Abyssal Chaos, which she knew existed but didn’t know what it was for. Taking a chance, she put “Onychinus” in the search bar, the results were far greater than she had expected.
This time, a shocking number of reports popped up. It seemed that Dr. Higgins’ death wasn’t the only one that had suspected ties to the criminal organization. It appeared that they had been targeting former Ever researchers but the motive was still unclear. This information, coupled with her grandmother’s former ties to the company, made her convinced that they had been involved somehow.
She became obsessed over reading every single report linking them to metaflux explosions and suspicious deaths. Falling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole, but she didn’t mind, she was too busy developing a deep hatred for the organization. She had already felt like what had happened was not an accident and matching the similarities to their M.O. was intoxicating. She was placating a hunger she didn’t know she felt.
All of this eventually led her to find another, classified, report that vindicated her belief that Onychinus was involved in her Grandma and Caleb’s deaths. This wasn’t the one that she had been obsessing over just last week, this was a different, confidential one. As pissed as she wanted to be that this was kept from her, the desire for retribution was taking over her. She had to make them pay. 
She stumbled upon a document containing all of the data that the government had on Onychinus. In it she found a lot of information that she knew already, but there was also intel on a few potential members of the group. One of the suspected higher ups was only known as Mr. Sherman and he was thought to be the brains behind the operation. Sherman’s profile was unexpectedly deep and through, it made her wonder why they hadn’t got the guy if they knew so much about him.
However, it was another alleged member of the group that really caught her eye. There was very little on him, not even a picture, just his name, Sylus. He was suspected of being the leader of the group but there was a point of contention on if he was even real. The report mentions how some of the information about him seemed to be more stuff of urban legend than reality, for example. It was said that he could disappear into a plume of black and red smoke, Kore rolled her eyes at that. Yeah right he can do that, does he turn into a bat too? Like a fucking vampire? 
Despite the myths that seemed to surround him it was confirmed that he was, in fact, a real person, and that he was the leader, or at least figurehead, of Onychinus. Everything that she learned about them culminated into hatred for this one man. “Hatred” was too weak of a word for what she felt, she loathed nim, no she despised him.
Somehow, someway, she was determined to make him pay for what he had done. If I could just go to the N109 Zone and track him down, I could make him pay, she thought. Wait, what’s stopping me from doing that? The gears in her brain started spinning and she was calculating exactly what steps she needed to take to go there. She wasn’t even sure what exactly she would do once she got there, but for the time being that was irrelevant to her.
Kore refocused her attention on the N109 Zone, this time searching Abyssal Chaos’ database. There was something new that caught her eye. A decades old brochure with touristy information, incredibly out of place for a top secret digital archive. 
The scan resolution of the old pamphlet was abysmal, but it was still legible. What really confused her was that everytime the name of the town should have been mentioned it was scratched out. This wasn’t as if someone had redacted it digitally or with a pen, it looked like someone had been desperate to erase the name in its entirety. 
Come to think of it, she had never heard of the N109 Zone referred to anything other than that. By the age of the brochure it was clear that it was older than the Catastrophe so it could not have possibly always been the N109 Zone, she reasoned. A picture captured her attention.
Nearly an entire page was dedicated to the brand new Ever research facility that was opened in 2007. Outside of the shiny new building was the unmistakable image of her grandmother, decades younger than the woman she had known, but it was her nonetheless.
Unexpectedly seeing her grandmother like that was like a punch to the gut. Especially when she was having so many mixed emotions about the woman since she had learned more about her role in the experimentation that was done on her. She tried to clear her mind and get back to reading, but it was difficult.
Inside there was the regular touristy information one would expect a city to promote, the weather, hot spots to check out and sights to see, as well as a map of the city. Thinking ahead or acting in pure paranoia, Kore downloaded the document onto a hard drive she kept at her desk before she switched focus.
Before shutting down her computer, she made one last search. She typed in “aether cores” and waited for the results. It was exactly as Xaiver had said, the Hunter’s Association didn’t know anything about them – at least not in an official capacity. 
Kore was getting tired and her desk was looking mighty comfortable. Checking the clock, it hadn’t even struck twelve, she decided that there wouldn’t be much harm in taking a short rest, so she gave herself permission to close her eyes. Sleep hit her hard and fast.
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itsgrimeytime · 1 year ago
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Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU
Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...
Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs
AVAILABLE ON AO3
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Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.
Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.
TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.
[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]
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You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.
'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'
It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.
You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.
But it became something you were rather dependent on.
'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.
'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?
You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.
But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.
I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.
I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.
This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.
I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.
Yours Sincerely,
Y/N Greene'
It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.
You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.
Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.
"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"
"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.
At least for someone, it was.
You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-
And then, there was a knock at the door.
Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.
Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)
You stilled, you were alone here then.
Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.
Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.
And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.
"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"
"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"
"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."
"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.
The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-
"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"
"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."
You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"
"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."
You paused, "An invitation?"
"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."
"What?"
He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."
"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"
"Lost count."
"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"
"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.
"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"
"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.
"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."
He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."
"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"
He merely nodded.
"Well, why do I only have one, then?"
The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."
The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.
You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.
Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.
Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.
"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."
Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.
And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.
It was not yours.
Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.
You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-
Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.
Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-
But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.
It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.
And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.
You supposed they could.
Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.
Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.
'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.
'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.
And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.
To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.
I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.
In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.
Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.
I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.
So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.
Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.
And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.
Yours,
Richard Grimes'
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bella-rose29 · 1 year ago
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Bite Me - Prologue
Vampire!Lockwood x f!vampire!reader
Ok so I have no idea what to call this series to be honest (Bite Me was the first thing that came into my head so we'll go with that for now), and also I have no idea how regularly I'm going to update
on the plus side I'm home for the Christmas holidays on the 15th (if I manage to get my assignments done bc I have four? five? due that day 🥲), so I'll have loads of time to write then!
Word count: 660
Warnings: being drunk, mentions/minor descriptions of death and decaying bodies, mentions/minor descriptions of wounds.
Tag list: will be at the end bc there are genuinely about 50 people (I'm assuming that if you liked this post, you wanted to be added to the tag list for this series). if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, then let me know (either on the post I mentioned or here, or just drop me a message!) <3
(not my image, credit to David Geib)
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Midnight.
The streets of London were bustling with activity despite the late hour, groups of people laughing obnoxiously as they exited or entered a pub, music blaring over car speakers and out of clubs, sirens cutting through the usual sound of car horns and traffic and bright lights casting the city in an almost supernatural glow.
A man was stumbling along the pavement, dressed in ragged clothing and his beard scruffy and untrimmed, and he clutched a bottle of beer in one of his dirty hands as though it were his most prized possession. The people that he passed paid him no attention, rightfully thinking that he was just another drunk trying to forget about the darkness that clouded the air of the capital. Perhaps the lady that stopped him when he nearly fell face first into the ground should have made sure that he got in the cab she hailed for him, but she was busy, needing to get home after working late. He slurred a thank you to her, patting her shoulder with a tired smile as the cab pulled up to the curb, and she went on her way.
The man didn't make it into the taxi.
A second man appeared before he could, and the driver, not wanting to wait given the late hour, drove off to find better customers. The drunk turned at the tap on his shoulder, furrowing his brow at the polished businessman before him and following in a drunken haze when asked.
If the woman had made sure that the man made it into the taxi, then perhaps she wouldn't have been watching the news the next morning, spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth, explaining how a drunk man had been murdered late last night in an alleyway.
She rushed to work after shovelling down the rest of her food, downing a coffee on the way to the morgue and demanding to see the body that had been brought in. She pressed her fingertips to her neck, right over her pulse point, and stepped into the room where the drunk man's body was, attempting not to gag at the stench that was already enveloping him.
He's decaying too quickly, she thought, a frown appearing on her face. It had barely been seven hours and already she was needing to press her sleeve over her nose to prevent the smell from assaulting her senses. Pulling back the cloth, the coroner explained how there were no signs of physical assault but for the marks on the neck.
The woman froze slightly, rectifying her slip-up when the coroner eyed her curiously and relaxed again, asking to be left alone for five minutes with the body.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind the last person to leave, the woman leaned in closer, pulling her hair out of the way and examining the marks.
The wound went right into the carotid artery, so at least the drunk man was only in pain for a few seconds before he died.
The woman left the room, dragging the cloth back up over his already-gaunt face, nodding to the people that she passed on the way out. Once outside, she leaned against a wall and pressed a hand to her forehead, the other hand holding her phone to her ear. It rang three times, then someone picked up.
"Yeah?" they answered.
"We have a problem," she said, not wasting time. There was no need for formalities, they each knew who was calling. "I've seen the body; it's definitely his work. We need to call a congress."
"Get it done. We'll need to move fast if you're right." The phone clicked on the other end, signalling the end of the call, and the woman sighed as she headed back to her car.
"Shit." She tapped her phone a few times, sending out the message to everyone that a congress would be in session in two days time. "Shit."
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tag list: @avdiobliss, @novelizt, @my-mask-of-sanity-is-slipping, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @downgoestheship, @howcouldifearanyhurricane, @oshverse, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @mentallyillsodapop, @peace-333, @nomugglesallowed, @why-would-i-eat-chewy-chicken, @sousunny, @vijigenshin, @beebo86, @dangelnleif, @halfthyme, @d-e-s-t-i-n-e-s-i-a, @forgottenangel, @catnip411, @mnmississippi, @ohmyoverland, @ellajar, @chronicpcssimist, @criesinlies, @hotcryptidsummer, @melliegorl, @justanassociate, @sydsicr, @starzortega, @loveverythingbooks, @boookfreeak, @fallinginlovewithbeingaliveagain, @thorns-for-the-sake-of-flowers, @rhiannons-realm, @karensirkobabes, @lavendernarwhal72, @star-of-velaris, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @sandiesohocollins, @ladyfluffyduck, @rentaldarling, @magipies, @donotwonderr, @wenigstenshabeichesversucht, @toddandersondupe
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your-littlesecret · 6 months ago
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
@espithewarlock just tagged me on this, thank you bb 💕
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
62 + 1 on anon
2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 
exactly 559.489
3. What fandoms do you write for?
exclusively Formula 1 RPF (right now)
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
say my name and everything just stops (I don't want you like a best friend) - a/b/o where Charles accidentally "matches" with pierre in an app to help with his heat
jump then fall - vet!pierre who works in the animal shelter Charles takes a dog he finds in the street
call it what you want to - my firstborn wip, rival CEOs
hide and seek - crackfic where their families were never openly told Charles and pierre are married
baby one more time - pure porn. breeding kink.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I always try to but I am terrible at it 😬 I appreciate all of them, but I never know what to answer too skaduhfbnskuhfvndfkhusvb but yeah, I try to answer all of them
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I have literally two fics with MCD so it could be either 💀 but to me, it's gotta be I know I'll never get it (there's not a day that I won't try)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I have literally no idea?? I don't really do unhappy endings (apart from MCD, and even then very rarely) so I could say any of them
8. Do you get hate on fics?
not really?? I got a bitchy comment once but that was about like. nothing related to the fic, which was weird osieugnsoeiugnfdivjn
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
yes. I don't know, I just- sit down and type it? idk what kind, I've written a wide range of different smuts I believe.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
that will depend on what you view as crossover. httyd au could be considered a crossover bc toothless and the fury light are literally part of the story??? the one where they are shadowhunters with our lord and saviour Magnus bane making an appearance (and Alec being mentioned). the proposal au? (I wouldn't say Lucifer au is a crossover bc I literally just based myself on the whole idea of celestial beings and whatnot. maybe it's a bible crossover??)
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that I am aware of, and I fucking hope not!!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I've had a request for it, but I'm not sure if the person is still thinking about it or what's going on. it would be an honour!!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
YES!!!! THE JUSTLY FIC!!!!!!! I love this fic so much and I love justi so much (debatable, we are in our enemies phase right now so I don't think I can say that in public) and it was SO MUCH FUN and I love writing with friends and I sure want to do it again!!! (friends..... if you want..... you know where to find me...... 😏😏)
14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?
definitely piarles. I will sometimes venture myself into other ships (especially if I want to write for a fren and I don't mind that ship)
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I don't have any published work that's unfinished bc I keep myself on a very tight leash about wips. if I start posting it, bet that I already have at least half of that story written and the rest is already meticulously planned. I have a few half-finished wips on my docs tho, but if I stop writing it's usually bc it's not bringing me any joy anymore. the nanny x ceo tho.... I stopped that one bc I got a bit depresso espresso at the time and life got busy as shit but I want to finish it so badly.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I ask myself that every day kkkkkkkkkkk I guess the fact that I can write really quickly? like if I have an idea I can just write down a whole 10k in like. 2 or 3 days.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
first of all I can't shut the fuck up. I have to restrain myself when I want to write anything less than 5k. im not sure if it's a weakness per se but yeah.
I also am very aware I have issues with describing the locations and with ending a fic. like. I never fucking know how to.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I don't mind when it's specific words or the occasional phrase and there's a translation to it. other than that, I won't lie, I kindof despise it. I can't speak, for example, Italian, so what is the point of reading a fic where the whole dialogue is in Italian if I won't understand shit?
19. First fandom you wrote for?
you will have to talk to my lawyer to get that information.
20. Favourite fic you’ve written?
I couldn't possibly choose only one! all the fics I post is because they bring me joy and I love writing them, so I don't think I have a favourite.
tagging @yukierres @duquesademiel @golden-fairylights @chaesonghwas and @hrhgeorgerussell 💕💕
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kikuism · 1 year ago
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hello mariam!! 💕💖 it fills me with joy when you reblog things from me and i can see the little 'kou' or 'kaname' or 'kiku' tag. they are like old friends to me. how are they doing? and how is your writing going?? i know we both share much less of it (or none of it) on tumblr these days but i hope it's going well. give your ocs a little kiss for me mwah <3
jenna your messages always make me smile 💗💓💞 i always think it's funny how i've done a complete 180 with regards to my writing....i wouldn't shut up about it, and now it’s become absolutely private and personal to me, and the thought of sharing it now feels like it would take a huge leap of faith. but i'm still writing, writing a lot ... with the same old struggles. i wish i wasn't so hard on myself, but that just means i've grown in my skills. still, i wish i could just write freely and without abandon and not pick it apart afterward.
i rotate between kiku kou and kaname all the time!! i literally feel kiku and kou growing up with me, they've been with me for so long....lately i've put them in the taisho era bc it's a fascinating time period in regard to the fusion between eastern and western culture that was flourishing (and causing a lot of anxieties) in the country. i also really love the aesthetics/fashion of this period. kiku and naomi are aloof listless heirs in their huge sprawling estate etc. they just don't really know what to do with themselves. then one afternoon new household staff arrives in the form of a blind boy....
one thing i found really interesting during my research was this concept of 'feminized' masculinity in regards to the increased consumerism and consumption of western culture and aesthetics that was happening in this era; the adoption of western material culture was 'showy' and superficial and therefore it was feminized. contrasted with this more rugged notion of masculinity that rejected everything western and was upheld by conforming to traditional values like devotion to the nation. these two representations of masculinity constituted differing responses to the problem of modernity. the fear that the nation was becoming emasculated in the wake of foreign influence is one i hadn't heard of before...it all comes down to a fear of losing one's identity in the wake of change. can you still maintain a sense of self while evolving into something new? i thought to parallel this change happening on a smaller more personal scale to kou entering the confines of kiku’s home and the feelings he arouses in him. he's puzzled and intrigued and attracted all at once. although his family embraces modern sensibilities in terms of dress and art, it's really just for appearances sake, because at this time it was still mainly the wealthy who could afford these types of clothes and luxuries. on the inside they are quite a traditional family, so there's that tension as well. i also read a little about how servants were portrayed in the literature of this time period, and how in this shared space master and servant sometimes crossed boundaries especially in the way these modern homes were constructed.
oh and kaname!! so much has changed. the assassin plotline has kind of dropped completely......it's not at all what i'm focusing on right now. i've discovered a lot about her through backstory and it's basically all i write now. it's crazy....i felt blocked for so so long with her, but all i had to do was focus on another aspect of her and then the words started pouring out. in this wip i focus on the tensions between those who are living on the fringes of society and the 'normal' people inside, no matter how frugally they might be living. kaname belongs to the former. there was a class of people in the edo period called eta who engaged in professions related to death, blood and the handling of corpses and were therefore considered defiled and unclean by the rest of society and all their work was confined to the outskirts of the villages and neighborhoods. they weren't allowed in these places unless it was to beg and only then at certain times. they were severely ostracized and had to adhere to strict rules regarding almost every aspect from their life, from the way they dressed to who they married, and an eta was considered 1/6th of a regular person. it's .... really hard to do research on the eta bc there don't seem to be that many records from that time and often i need really specific information like what the inside of their huts looked like 😭 i need information on these eta villages and what they were like. kaname works in leather making, particularly skinning hides. she's living a rather numb, listless life and her only solace comes from sneaking off and standing on the great ryogoku bridge that connects her world to the lively world of the other side, where people wear different colored kimono and eat real food and seem to live actual lives. her only friend is a sickly girl named nana who lives deeper in the eta village but who spends her evenings with her after her work drinking tea and eating the slurry of grains that make up their supper.
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nana seems content with life, but kaname is restless. she really wants to eat the food she sees being sold at stalls in the village on the other side of the bridge. i love kaname and nana, they're literally 🌑 and☀️.
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nana loves taking care of her and kaname is like. ew. stop that. but she tries to do whatever she can to make nana happy bc her smile and laugh soothe her :') not that she examines these emotions too closely or anything. one night during the summer fireworks festival, one of the times when the eta are permitted to enter the inner village, they both go to sell handmade dolls and other paraphernalia in the hopes of getting some alms. but the night ends badly, and that's when kaname's story really starts....
so that's where i am with my writing! it's so hard but it's so fun. the light of my life. and omg i finally posted some kaname stuff 🫣
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ayahoes · 10 months ago
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got tagged by @rocketslacker to share my top albums from 2023 and i’m gonna do it bc i love sharing music :3 these are listed in no particular order or anything!
putting album titles explanations n stuff under the cut :)
the world ep. fin: will by ateez (2023) - if u know me u know ateez is gonna be on this list no matter what. this album literally came out in december and it became my top album of 2023 in terms of listening time. whole album makes me lose my mind. it’s a masterpiece. 10/10, their best album of all time. even if you’re not a kpop fan i highly highly highly recommend this album, it’s just so much fun from beginning to end!!
the world ep. 2: outlaw by ateez (2023) - if u really know me u will know ateez is gonna appear on this list more than once! :) bouncy was my #1 listened song on spotify in 2023 and i think outlaw was either #3 or #4. ateez is incredible they dropped 2 absolute banger albums in one year i love them sooo much.
take me back to eden by sleep token (2023) - hearing the summoning for the first time genuinely altered my brain chemistry and made me a worse person. like i’m preparing to drop everything and go to another state just to see this band live bc the tickets in my state are just so insanely priced. it’s crazy how many different styles of music these guys are able to squeeze onto one album, so much love for this body of work. definitely one of my fav albums maybe ever
remember that you will die by polyphia (2022) - this album has been consistently in my rotation for the last full year and then some it’s so so so good. i’m not usually a fan of purely instrumental stuff, but polyphia is the distinct exception to that rule!! i was supposed to see them in concert but i had to miss it bc something came up that day and it made me so sad ;-;
the black parade by my chemical romance (2006) - do i even really need to explain this one? i don’t think i need to explain this one :’)
so much (for) stardust by fall out boy (2023) - thank god fall out boy is back making music with real guitars let me tell u. and thank god i got to see it and thank god i’m going to see it again in a couple months. really good album front to back, not my favorite fall out boy album by any means, but definitely good enough to earn a top spot in my albums of 2023!
versus: villains by dreamcatcher (2023) - another kpop album (surprise surprise)! deukae is my favorite girl group and they also dropped 2 incredible albums last year, but i really loved this one! every time they drop a comeback they do something different and this was definitely different for them but in the best way possible. cunty. love it. 10/10
the book 3 by yoasobi (2023) - my love for yoasobi will never die. idol for anime opening of the year and yoasobi for jpop act of all time. the rest of the album is phenomenal (i mean come on it’s yoasobi) but like. idol. brain chemistry. i’m a different person now,
rush by måneskin (2023) - i listened to this album so much actually bc i think it’s fun. there’s a couple songs on there that make me wanna dance so much it’s unreal
and that’s about it! not tagging anyone bc i don’t know who to tag but if you see this and feel inspired to do it then do it :)
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i-like-yoongi-a-latte · 2 years ago
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The year is coming to its end so it's time for my silly little love letter post 💕 I hope this year has been good for you, or if it wasn't, I'm sending hugs bc same, but hey we made it through! I hope next year brings you kindness, good energy, rest and overall happiness 🥰
Happy New Year lovelies!!
These are not in any order, you're all very important to my tumblr experience <3
♥ @taetaestykookie Marrissa my new bestie to yell about BTS with!!! I love following your bias crisis and making your friends/family members become fans! Even though you live far away and timezones suck I'm so happy to be able to randomly send you stuff in like three different apps all about the same thing... I wish cute Tata/Cooky stuff finds their way to you! Thank you for being my friend, I appreciate you 💝
♥ @washyourdamnhands Kinga, the person who's like a warm comforting hug! Always sending me nice videos and making me smile, I adore you 💕
♥ @asgh0sts Danny, I loooove seeing Exo on my dash and that's because of you, also seeing old Shinee photos makes me cry (but in a good way you know). You also gave me good advice once and I felt so happy!! I've also been thinking about Valentine's Day cards already, and I've been meaning to ask you if you want to receive one from me, so let's say this acts like a question for you and a reminder for me hehe. Thank you for being my friend!! 🧡
♥ @danhalen A person who makes me smile, Reny! The thought of you makes me warm and giggly, I really love to send cards to you (I hope the card that's on its way comes home to you safely!!) and I really appreciate you for being my friend!! 💘
♥ @sepastian-ahoey the Sepe to my Teukka, or should I say a demon for making me get new interests.......... I'm feeling like I'll be following the F1 more next year... We also have a Max document date already planned so I'm waiting for that!!! Thank you for being my friend and tolerating all the rants about kpop that you don't know anything about but still kinda do, I promise to listen to your rants in the future too 💞
♥ @firefighter-diaz oh the broken blorbos.... The reason why I listened to Taylor's new album is this person right here!!!! Also I adore you, sending me postcards from cool places and all 🥺 also helping me with my silly questions and making me feel happier and also making me feel like my jokes are funny! remember hun, coaches don't play!! and!!! I will always listen if you have something on your mind ❣️
♥ @chanstopher Dreamy!! The reason I became even more obsessed with Chris's nose!!! As a nose enthusiast™ this was very nice. I could probably write essays about your talents, but like even if we don't talk much here, I really really really appreciate you. You're so kind and lovely, your art is amazing, you make gifs super fast and they're so pretty every time, and when you show the original coloring vs yours I'm always like h o w. Also I'm still giggling about your kind comment to my Leebit <3333 annnd I love to read your little posts about Chan's room when I can't watch it myself! and I also remember saying I'd show you my paintings but I haven't painted - I drew a horse though - but I'll try to remember it when I paint hehe. I wish all the best for you, may Chris bless us you with cute selfies that show his adorable nose 🥰
♥ @ambivartence Siyuan, the lovely person with who I can have fun ask game answers with! How do I even start. Every time I see your art I smile along the wiggly lines, I try to find little hearts and when I do I feel so warm!! Your art is so warm, I can't explain. Also your Seonghwa and Hongjoong live rent-free in my head, and it's also one reason I should get into Ateez more! You're so kind and lovely and I love to read your tags on posts!! I adore you 💝
♥ next I wanna say thanks to the gc, @fangirlinglikealoon & @heiskasmiro, you make me smile so much you have no idea!! No matter what app we're using to communicate, it always feels so nice to see your names appear in my notifications! I appreciate you so much, just know that 💘💘
annnnd here are some other lovely people that make me smile just by seeing their urls <33
♥ @reedskz ♥ @suklaakuppikakku ♥ @trashkingdom ♥ @joel-farabee ♥ @juhollamago ♥ @diazactually ♥ @yjbg ♥ @finnishhockeyelf ♥ @lily-blue-blue-lily ♥ @bortuzzzzin ♥ @thewestishharpooners ♥ @thosedaysthatwill ♥
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chevvy-yates · 1 year ago
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NEGATIVE TRAITS TAG GAME
got tagged by @elvenbeard <3
▶ RULES: bold what always or almost always applies, italicize occasional or situational, strikethrough never applies.
THYJS DE WIT
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aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | overbearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful
Thyjs — the soldier amongst my boys. He's still in development when it comes to his character but at the moment this would apply best to him.
He's got no mercy when it comes to killing, that is why brutal, cruel and merciless are bold and he sure got a certain pitbull behavior that comes along with his profession. A lot of the italic ones apply to his situational soldier behavior he instantly activates on missions and situations that require his profession. He's also willing to torture an enemy for information since he's learned it in his career.
He gets envious as well and can be a control freak once he thinks someone is lying him straight into his face. He will search for clues and once he gets proof of it beware of the confrontation. Thats why aggressive, hard and harsh are italic. He does not use his fists first, he starts it verbally and using force is plan B if A doesn't work.
Once he likes something or is in love with someone he can become highly obesessive which means he won't share it. It is his and his alone. E.g. he's got to learn that Ry and Vijay are besties and also still very touchy and easy going with each other — this makes him envious at times but he doesn't interfear and only talks about how he feels when Ry or V suspect it after a while. Thy will learn eventually that Ry is his precious but he also has to share him with the rest of the team in terms of being good friends/besties. He knows that Ry is loyal but Thyjs tends to be over-protectional about Ryder once he's fallen for him. Family means everything for Thyjs and he's going to protect them with his own life if he has to.
Since he's also so taciturn he comes off as cold, remote and unapproachable. His soldier status alone brings him a lot of respect from others but his visual appearance does a lot as well since Thyjs looks different than others because of his albinism — it makes him kind of alien as well. He gets awfully uptight when he has to cope with his own feelings. Most of his life he spent to be a war machine out of flesh and blood, ready to kill by any given commands and feelings were totally undesired even deactivated. Thanks to his love for flowers, classical music and art Thyjs managed to not forget about the world of warmth, about joy, as well as being vulnerable, sensitive/soulful and letting his guard down in rare times.
tagging: none bc I'm late to answering this tag game and I'm assuming everyone already did that. But feel free to do it if you want!
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