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angellic4l · 8 days ago

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don't hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

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kentoxo · 4 months ago

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I’m glad your askbox is back on ♡ may I request something with Yuta and how Rika would behave (would she?) towards someone he has a massive crush on? I feel there will be a Conversation™️ between the two when things get spicier with reader, idk~ ily, have a lovely day!

omg Rika would be soo like possessive but willing. like, she would never go out of turn, but she wouldn't just stand around and let him do whatever without explanation

pairing: reader (f) x crush!Yuta (aged up) ft. Rika

warnings: kissing, touching

a/n: ily2 anon!!! thank u for the req :') happy i turned on my ask right when you wanted to send a req

Rika would never let Yuta live it down.

He, too, never expected that he'd love anyone again the way he did Rika. It was a love so profound that he could not let her go. His soul is forever bonded and imbued with her love, something that has proven to be his biggest strength. But then, there was you.

Yuta's eyes would always follow you whenever you'd train, staring in awe at the way you performed as if fighting were a tango. He'd study you at a distance, sat at a few benches with Toge and Panda. With hands weaved together under his chin, he'd stare at you adoringly. But, Rika would remind him of her existence and lightly push the bench he sat on, forcing all three of the sorcerers to try not to fall forward.

"Huh?" Panda exclaimed, looking over at Toge quizzically. He looked up at the clouds, "the wind can't be that strong, can it?"

Yuta looked over at the confused pair with a sheepish smile, "sorry. Rika was... feeling playful."

Even in the dining hall, Yuta would work up the courage to go sit with you and the other sorcerers. Taking a seat across from you, he'd quietly hum a, "good evening, y/n."

You consciously had to make sure you didn't smile too much at his presence and would give a small bow, "good evening, Okkotsu." Although the both of you were similar in age, he was still Gojo's student, and you had too much respect for him.

When Yuta spoke to you, there were fireworks. His heart felt elated and full just hearing your words, and the way you spoke. How gentle the words came out of your mouth, your tongue flicking right at your enunciations. He could remain like this here, with you, forever. But, as he lifted his spoon full of soup, the spoon immediately shot out of his hand, and straight through the bowl and table, to the ground.

"S-sorry," Yuta hums in embarrassment, immediately letting out a deep sigh before beginning to clean up. But you jumped to your feet to help him, creating a bigger problem in Yuta's heart... and pants.

"No worries, let me help!" You chime.

Finally, with much time and patience, Yuta was able to confess his feelings for you. His dark circles felt as though they cleared when you reciprocated his feelings. But in Yuta's head, he was quite surprised that Rika had yet to react. Little did he know what was to come.

You contently invited Yuta over one night as he finally had some time off. Gojo was grateful for all the missions he had taken up during a short and very needed period. He relieved him of his sorcerer duties for a week, in which Yuta had no plans besides you.

When he entered your apartment, the air immediately went hot. Although the two of you hadn't done anything yet, the sight of you in a little tank top and pajama pants was enough to do things to Yuta. Your chest was bare under that tank top, and the pants were doing your ass wonders.

He'd just stare at you, watching your lips move as you asked about his day. But once you realized he wasn't listening (and he reason why), you immediately went quiet and felt your cheeks warm. Yuta's exhausted eyes lit up, energy returning to his pale skin.

In moments, his hands snake down from your sides to your waist, slowly making its way to your bum. His dark blue eyes hold hesitance, searching for constant reassurance in your own. "Is this okay?" He murmurs, cheeks completely flushed with his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. Once you give him the greenlight, nothing stops Yuta from enjoying you.

Cold lips meet your own, and the two of you finally closed the gap. The usually respectful and patient Yuta was now replaced with the ever hungry beast before you. His tongue dragged mercilessly against your bottom lip, forcing entry to tango with your own. He tasted of green tea and fig.

You could feel his fingers dent into your ass, his force pushing your body into his own. His back meets with the wall, and your body follows suit. He smells so good... feels so good... your hands sneak its way to the top of his pants, tugging teasingly. When you did, Yuta quickly pulled away.

He kept hold of you, staring down at your beautiful face. His heart could explode now from just the way your eyes met his own. They were filled with lust and worry. "m'so sorry to stop us like this... do you think it's okay if I have a moment? With Rika?"

Your cheeks go hotter, but you understood completely. You turn around and gesture the balcony, "go ahead there. I won't disturb you." You were not even an ounce upset, and Yuta couldn't be more grateful. Leaving a peck on your forehead, he calmly walked over to the balcony and slid the door shut behind him.

In the privacy of the outside, Yuta walked over to the ledge of the balcony, propping his forearms over it. He let out a long sigh before looking up to adore the stars. He begins to toy with his ring with an amused smile, "I never realized you could do that, Rika." He referred to the way she had made the ring spin while the two of you were kissing. "I must be pushing your buttons, huh?"

Rika was above him, holding onto the side of the building. Tears began to escape her body, her hand shakily reaching down at Yuta. "Yuta..." she cried, her usual shriek replaced with a calm whimper. Yuta couldn't dare scold her, for her feelings weren't wrong.

Turning around, Yuta looks up at her and smiles, "I know; this isn't fair to you. I would give the world to reverse what happened to you, and have you here with me properly. But that isn't what happened."

Rika remains still, her gaze falling to the door of the balcony, in which you resided on the other side of it.

Yuta continues to smile brightly, "I know you don't like sharing but she... y/n, she's good to me. And I need her like I need you. She keeps me safe like you do." He walks up to her, offering a hand. "Please be kind to her, Rika."

Rika leans down slowly, hesitantly. As she cowers her head, she asks quietly, "love me [still]?"

His hand pats her head gently, "always. That will never change, Rika. I promise." After a few moments, Rika seems to accept and finds comfort in his touch. Before she exits her physical form, she causes Yuta's ring to spin once more. He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, don't worry."

Yuta joins you back inside, where you quickly jump up and rush to him. "Did everything go well?" You ask in a hush tone.

Yuta nods, "nothing to worry about."

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rinkasisopods · 10 months ago

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fashion designers in figure skating (1/?) : satomi ito

satomi ito is a japanese fashion and costume designer known for her works in the sports of figure skating. inspired by the dresses and skating performances of three-time world champion mao asada, ito has designed costumes for multiple renowned figure skaters, including a series of more than 30 costumes for two-time olympic champion yuzuru hanyu.

selected works:

rika kihira's international angel of peace

evgenia medvedeva's memoirs of a geisha

mai mihara's fairy of the forest

wakaba higuchi's your song

mao shimada's benedictus

marin honda's turandot

mone chiba's the legend of 1900

yuka nagai's elizabeth

yuna aoki's she

#satomi ito #figure skating #figure skater #figure skating gif #rika kihira #evgenia medvedeva #mai mihara #wakaba higuchi #mao shimada #mone chiba #yuka nagai #yuna aoki #🪩 !#OBSESSSSED WITH YUKA'S ONE #the sisi stars too OKAYYYYY #(i really like elizabeth the musical)

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marshmallowprotection · 2 years ago

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Wildflowers

Pairing: V | Kim Jihyun/Rika Kim

Description: Desperate to break free from her family, Rika runs from her arranged marriage in the hopes that she can look at that blue sky without fearing she'll lose her innocence forever. However, the unrelenting desert heat leaves her indebted to a stranger who offers her the chance of a lifetime. Will she take it knowing it might be a trap, or will she give up before she dares to try? Prequel to Cereus.

[Read On AO3]

Cowboy Universe in order: [Wildflowers] [Cereus] [Andromeda] [Wren]

Chapter 1

Why had God forsaken her?

That was the thought echoing in the back of her head the longer she felt heat on her skin. The desert sun was cruel and unforgiving. Why? What had she done that was so bad to receive this treatment? Where had she gone wrong in her life?

She was a young woman who seemingly had no reason to be where she was at that moment, and yet, there she was. She was alone with nothing to call hers but the mere clothes on her back.

In the most wicked heat of the desert, Rika felt it.

It was fleeting, but at that moment, it almost felt like there was a drop of water on her tongue. That certainly couldn't be the case. She knew that it had to have been at least two days since the last time she felt water in the back of her throat. Supposedly, a human could go at least a day or two more without water, but not where she was.

In a land covered in dirt and dust, it wouldn't take long before the vultures would swoop in.

Long had she known that the more time she spent in this place, the more likely it would be that she would meet her end. It didn't matter how many times she prayed to God for this misery to end. It was an endless sea of agony and she was but one victim in a sea of many others and the god she prayed to could only help so many.

That was the only thing she could tell herself as a comfort. If she allowed herself to believe for even a second it was any different than that, she would fall into disrepair. Even a single drop of a different thought would be too much. She didn't dream of doing that. There was a fleeting hope. The smallest hope inside of her chest that hadn't been broken apart by the people who claim to be saving her. She was holding on like a lifeline but it felt hard to hold on to it.

How could she believe when she had been abandoned? It wasn't the first time they kicked her out of the house and it likely wouldn't be the last time. This time, it happened because she had managed to say “no.” She didn't want to leave the house immediately after dinner to speak with the preacher. The thought of doing so made her skin crawl. She was a good girl. She always did what she was told.

Even if that meant she became uncomfortable with the things she had to do to please her parents. There were rules that children had to follow. That was what her faith taught her and it was what society expected of her. It was what she’d been taught since the day they’d taken her from that orphanage. She was supposed to follow every single rule they placed in front of her without question. It didn't matter what the rule was. It was her duty as their child to follow through.

Honor thy parents, that was the rule.

She was to be the child who made up for one they could not bear on their own. But, she knew she would never be good enough as the child they imagined for themselves. It was one thing her mother had always made abundantly clear. They only adopted her because another child convinced them to do so. They had spared her a sense of momentary pity in that regard, but they made sure that Rika understood what they meant. They thought their pity would reward them, but it had not given them what they expected.

Why else would her mother and father look upon her with contempt? Either she was a filthy sinner that could do no good, or she would never be good enough as the imaginary child that they had created in their minds. It was a painful truth she had to face every time she wound up on the streets. She was coming into her adult years but she felt no different than she had as a child. Her body may have blossomed and her mind may have grown, but in their eyes, she was still nothing more than a child. A child that could never be what they intended.

A simple two-letter word was too much for them.

She couldn't take it. The revolting feeling of somebody's disgusting eyes watching her body when she wanted nothing to do with it was too much. She couldn't bring herself to fear eternal damnation when all she could feel was anguish. As much as she wanted to have faith in the god that had brought her peace in some of her worst moments when it felt as though God had employed those who were slowly but surely ripping away at her innocence, it was hard to find peace in faith.

Rika didn’t want to do what her parents wanted anymore. She didn’t want to listen to their screams and orders when all it would do would lead to an arranged marriage to a man in the church who was no voice of God. The thought of being left in that position after years of being stuck under his thumb alongside her parents made her want to run and run and run until her body caved.

The longer she continued to listen to her parents, the closer she knew she would become to a contract that there would be no getting out of.

If those deplorable hands were to get what they wanted, she would be stuck as a wife to someone she never loved. It didn't matter how many times people would say she would come to love a husband such as that righteous man. She could not feel love in her heart for someone who had made her feel terror and agony since her thirteenth year.

Even if it made her fit for hell, she knew that she could not take it any longer. No more could she be the girl they wanted her to be. She could not do it. She simply couldn't.

She had tried time again to make sense of her existence by doing what was expected of her but nothing made sense anymore. As far as their words had made her believe from the moment she learned how to understand language, something was supposed to click when she became of age. But, if anything, now that she was of marrying age, the less she understood about the world and its expectations for a young woman of her standing. It didn't make any sense.

It was never going to make sense.

That was the realization that was chipping away at her and why she had decided to run away in the dead of night after they screamed at her for saying no.

Either they kicked her out or she made the run for freedom. Those were the only choices that were afforded to her and they were all terrifying. They might as well have kicked her out, but she knew that it didn't matter if they did it, they would send someone after her to drag her back screaming if only to know that they would have money for a dowry. It was all she was good for. Her existence was enough to make their money. Her life was worth a bundle of coins and maybe a few cows. Nothing more and nothing less.

That was the truth.

The cold hard truth.

It was the painful and ugly truth she did not want to admit to herself no matter what. She had nothing and she was nothing. Even if she understood those things deep down inside, it didn't take away from the confusion. It didn't take away from the simple fact she didn't understand why she was born to live through this. She wanted to understand and she had tried to understand so many times. From every crook and angle she could look at, she had tried her damnedest.

But, all it left her was confusion that continued to pool inside her broken heart.

She understood everything and knew nothing at the same time. If anything, she was more confused than she’d ever been in her entire life. Why couldn't she understand what they wanted from her the way they needed it? Why did it make her feel sick instead? Why did her skin crawl like spiders down her spine while she dug her hands into her skirt and bit her tongue? Why, oh why, did it feel that way?

Why? Why? Why? The single word reverberated in her mind over and over again. Why? Why? Why? Why? Was there nothing for her to do but live in this cycle? Why? Why? Why? Why? Was there nobody in this world that cared about her? Was there no hope for her in this world to live the way she wanted? Was there no way to figure out what she wanted in the first place? It didn't matter how many times the thoughts reverberated throughout her head, she was lost in the same cycle over and over and over again.

Rika was left with the same conclusion. The wind whipped around her and stirred up the sand. Even though she was used to the feeling of sand biting at her heels, it still hurt. The pain was like an itch. You wouldn't think much of an itch if it was a tingle that needed to be scratched for a second. but, it would bother you if no matter how much you clawed at the spot, the itch would not go away. In her mind, that was real torture. A slow and unyielding feeling of agony was far worse than a gunshot.

It was far more torturous to experience a slow death instead of a quick death. If she could have had her say, she would have chosen the latter. But, her adoptive parents had chosen for her and she wasn't sure what options were left for her apart from feeling the burn in the back of her throat that never seemed to go away. There was nowhere left to go and no feeling of satisfaction. It seemed as though she would continue to wander the desert. She was turned around in the dead of night amid her tears as she ran from their cabin. It was hard to say where she was anymore.

Out in the west, if you didn't follow the path exactly the way it was meant to be, you would stumble further and further away from civilization until it was only you and the buzzards waiting to feast upon your body. It felt like it would be her fate. It was a tortuous fate but was it any better than what she would face if she turned around? Every option presented to her was more uncomfortable than the last.

If she could even find her way back around, for that matter.

She didn't want to turn around.

At the same time, she knew if she didn't succumb to the elements around her, someone would drag her back kicking and screaming by horseback. Her pretty face was worth a hefty penny. It was the same answer as the last time she tried to make a run for it. The only difference was that this time she was old enough to realize the severity of what it would do to her before all was said and done.

Her body was tired and she wanted to lie down. If she stopped, someone might’ve found her; But, if she kept walking, she might’ve passed out from heat exhaustion in the middle of an unmarked trail.

The heat blurred her vision and the horizon… where was she supposed to go? It wasn't like she had a plan. The only thing she could think to do at the time was to run and that was it. She didn't have a plan. It wasn't like there was much of a plan for her future in the first place as far as she could decide.

Her legs were wobbling as she stumbled, walking on through the valley without shadows as a weary soul, and all she could think about was how she yearned for something to take the dryness. She didn't hate the heat. She loved the feeling of sunshine kissing her skin. But, this feeling, this feeling of dry heat that was boiling her from the inside out was not what she wanted. A single drop of rain would’ve been enough to make her grateful to God. She would have repented for everything she had committed if there was only a drop of water.

Rika knew better than to pray for shade.

But, a single droplet?

It might have been asking for too much, but she was praying for anything. She wouldn't lose her faith in God yet, not just yet, but the dwindling feeling of energy and her body was pulling her down. The weight of the world was on her shoulders just as it was on Atlas and she wanted to weep. There were no tears left for her to cry and all she could do was march on like the beat of the drum. If only she knew the direction of the town. If only she knew the way to someone who might have pitied her. She had no one and she was no one.

She continued to walk until her body couldn’t. She wasn't sure when her body felt like it couldn’t walk, all she knew was that one moment she was walking and the next she was laying on her back, staring up at the endless blue sky without a cloud in sight.

If she had enough left in her brain to manage a thought, she might have let herself pretend that sky up above was an endless sea of water that she could reach her hand out towards and dive into.

What was the sea like? It was something she had only heard about through stories in her childhood at the orphanage. It felt so far away from the world she lived in. Did it feel like heaven? Would Heaven feel like diving into a pool of water? Would it feel satisfying like a cold desert night? Would it be everything that her Earthly suffering was not? She took in a deep breath and it felt as if she was accepting that this might be where it ends. Hot, sticky, and barren.

It wouldn't be so bad, would it? She might not know what it felt like to be free but if she could hold out on her faith in God for just a second longer, she might be saved. She might have been saved. She didn't want to go back. She didn't think she could go forward. There was only one option left.

Just a few more minutes…

Rika felt darkness cloud her vision. At first, she thought it was because she had closed her eyes once and for all. But, in that darkness, she realized that a voice was speaking to her. It was a voice she couldn't recognize. It was a male voice and his words did not make sense. His voice was garbled and the sound of heat buzzing blurred out anything she could have heard. She pondered if it was an angel welcoming her to heaven and reminding her that it was okay to let go. But, water in its purest form began to splash against her face.

And just like that, it felt like she was alive again.

As much as she wanted to desperately reach out for the water that she had long been denied, she knew better than to choke down a canteen after days without reprieve.

It would make her feel sicker than she already was. Even though her vision was cloudy, the owner of the voice that’d spoken to her was holding her tightly. So tightly that she wasn't afraid she would fall again. Whoever held the bottle of water to her lips so that she could come back to earth. She wasn't thinking about that or what his intentions might have been. All she could think about was how grateful she was for water. It was something that many people took for granted but she didn't. She knew what it was.

It was the essence of life.

“Drink slowly,” His gentle voice reminded her to take care of her choices. “If ya’ do too much too soon, ya’ll be just as worse off as ya’ were a second ago, miss.”

If her throat wasn't so dry, she would have thanked him. It was a common courtesy to be grateful to those who looked after you. If this stranger was a man that wanted to take her back to where she came from, he would have already said his peace. If his intentions were worse, she knew something would’ve already gone wrong the minute she didn't wake up again. She knew better than to have blind faith in strangers like this in dire straits, but for once, she felt a calling in her heart to listen.

Rika wasn’t sure why, but she decided that she would listen. It was the first time she felt that way about another person. She couldn't see his face because of her exhaustion but something about his presence felt right. Something felt right and for the first time in her life, she wanted to believe in that feeling. It felt like 180° from where she had been just a few moments before. But by God, there might have been a prayer answered.

It wasn't a drop of water.

Her voice felt raspy and broken. She wanted to thank the man but all she could think about was how much trouble she was causing someone else. “Forgive me, sir. Forgive me. It ain’t my goal to trouble ya’. If y’all ain’t got no more water for yerself’, don’t waste it on me. The river ain’t in this direction… Least, I reckon it ain’t this way… go on, I ain’t good for nothing. ‘M as good as dead. Buzzards have more keep for me. Don’t waste yer’ water on a good fer’ nothin’.”

“Miss, I ain’t gon’ leave a lady out here for the buzzards. My mama, rest her soul, she never would’ve been proud if I saw somebody and let ‘em waste away like that,” a weight left her shoulders as his jacket came to block out the harshness of the sun. She blinked, trying her best to see again as he spoke. “The world would suffer a mighty loss without someone like ya’ in it.”

A loss?

Who would care about her? The only people that had ever cared about her were the ones that wanted to use her. The only people that knew her were her parents, the preacher, and the few people in her tiny ramshackle house of worship who spared her a pity look on the harshest Sunday devoted to God. Pity was the most she could ever pray for. Not for a place that mourned her loss.

The sunlight cleared her vision and she looked at her savior in awe, as his blue eyes as bright as the sky and blue hair as deep as the water she prayed for stared back at her. Whatever feeling she had in her heart of doubt was taken when she saw this man looking at her. Her prayers had been answered and she had been saved by that blue color that she had dreamed of.

It wasn't a sea of water, but she could feel herself slipping away into those eyes as if they were the sea itself. Despite how weak she felt, she began to laugh before her world went dark once more.

[Chapter One (YOU ARE HERE.) | Chapter Two]

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om-nom-snom · 7 months ago

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[Braiding your hair]

Rika x reader, Piers x reader

Rika <3

Rika runs her fingertips over your scalp as she gathers hair between them. No matter how well you think you've hidden the full body shiver her touch causes, she still notices with a gentle grin.

"Stop fussing, I'm only braiding your hair." The expert trainers smile is apparent in her voice as she teases. Nimble hands card through your hair one last time before Rika starts to cross the strands, careful to not tug too firmly. It's done slowly, lovingly, with you sat on the floor leaning back against her legs.

"Better?" You ask, relaxing against the clodsire themed pajama pants your girlfriend loves. Only a short hum of approval is given in response, barely audible over the low murmur of a long forgotten TV show in the background. It's too hard to focus on that when warm, gentle touches lull you to sleep.

It's been a long day for you both, needing a quiet night in to recuperate, and you feel it catching up when your eyelids droop. As your cheek drowsily presses against cotton clodsire adorned tartan, Rika finishes the braid. Noticing how you're nearly asleep there on the ground, her voice stays quiet as she leans closer to your ear. "All done. let's get you to bed, beautiful."

Piers <3

"Have you done this at all in the past decade?" You ask with a giggle, watching in the mirror as your boyfriends eyebrows furrow and he tries to remember how he did this day after day a mere few years ago.

"Yeah, Marn used to love braids." Piers grumbles, running his fingers through yet another knot he's put in your hair. He thought he was half decent at doing hers at the time, but stood here behind you at your dresser he's not so sure he still has it. After you'd complained about your hair getting in the way at his last concert, the gym leader insisted on helping you style it differently.

And he is certainly doing something... Different. One nearly complete braid runs down the left side of your head, slightly lopsided and with loops of hair sticking out, it's exactly what you'd expect from Piers. Messy, but done with love. One of his own pink hair ties is used to finish it and Piers grins into the mirror as you gaze at him.

"Not bad, huh? 'Ow about we do the next?" He asks with a wink. Long fingers run down your hair, Piers starting to sing as he starts on the other side. It's a song you never tire of, a soft one he wrote for you, the single song such a proud musician only performs in the privacy of your shared home.

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet and violet x reader #pokemon swsh x reader #pokemon rika #elite four rika #rika x reader #pokemon piers #gym leader piers #piers x reader

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utopianparadoxist · 4 months ago

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Hey guys! As a treat, I thought I'd provide some context for this seemingly random line Davepeta gives us in the latest upd8.

So It turns out this is a reference to a catchphrase used by Higurashi: When They Cry character Rika Furude, which is later used in that series' spiritual successor, Umineko: When they Cry. Imagine my surprise when this update dropped right as I was in the middle of writing the first Homestuck article I've posted in years, where I actually talk about some of Umineko's themes!

In Umineko, the line is specifically spoken by the Great Witch of Miracles, Bernkastel, a character who operates very much like an Ultimate Self incarnation of Rika Furude:

youtube

Current Homestuck: Beyond Canon contributor @mr-foods has done some spectacular Umineko fanart that's very worth checking out, so I guess it's not too surprising to see an in-text shout out.

But also, if you're looking for something to dig into in between Homestuck^2 updates, Umineko could be a good pick! Especially considering notable Homestuck YouTuber @nezumiva is just wrapping up her stream series where she voice acts the entire series live in a truly spectacular live performance. making it more accessible than ever.

And Umineko and Homestuck share some nearly jarring thematic similarities!

https://www.tumblr.com/mr-foods/758726208161792000?source=share

In particular, Umineko's structure lends itself very well to further imagining the Ultimate Self, with some characters existing "outside the game board" and treating the reality of the story as a metaphorical chess set, reusing the pieces that are the main cast--even including alternate piece versions of themselves-- in different ways over and over to tell different versions of the same story, in an effort to uncover the truth at the heart of the tale's mystery.

As I watch it draw to a close through Nezumi, I can also say that Umineko is one of the most heartfelt and moving narratives I've ever read, and has some spectacular musical bangers like Bernkastel's main theme, and several tracks that sound pretty damn Homestucky.

That's all for now. Let me know if you check Umineko out! Til next time, keep rising.

#homestuck beyond canon #homestuck^2 #Umineko #nezumiva #Homestuck #mr.foods

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sadability · 7 months ago

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Did you get mysterious messages? ~🎵

MYSTIC MESSENGER MUSIC HEADCANONS :D (RFA + V, Rika, Vanderwood)

Jihyun / V

I think V would love Mitski. Just imagining him painting while my love, mine All mine plays in the background is so sweet. I also think he'd like cavetown, clario, Adrianne Lenker, Liane Flores and Tears For Fears. He often listens to it as background noise when painting or photographing but I also believe he'd practice singing using certain songs (and maybe sing you to sleep HSHSHS)

Jumin

Jumin gives me trouble because I feel like he listens to music for lyrics or lack thereof rather than sound. He listens to blues, jazz, classical and maybe a soft rock love song here and there. If he listens to a song with lyrics, he'll study them. He doesn't really listen to music often but when he does, it's often used as background noise rather than him genuinely indulging.

707 / Saeyoung / Luciel

I think he'd listen to mostly everything but especially synth wave, pop, new wave, rap, noise and glam rock for some reason. I could see him vibing to Depeche Mode one moment and then Fetty Wap the next. He would definitely unironically listen to wannabe by the spice girls LMAO. Also probably really likes tv show intros like iCarly theme or something. AND DISCO!! Seven dancing to bee gees when!?!?

Yoosung

To get rid of the obvious he'd listen to video game osts, pixel (I think that's what the genre is called?) and probably, here me out, pop punk. Or like Falling in Reverse. I think his favourite band would be the All American Rejects but I can also see him liking old demi lavato or Camilla cabello. Both basic white girl music and then randomly pop punk mixed in. As for gaming soundtracks I think he'd really like the undertale ost and probably listens to music through gacha life amv 😔

Zen / Hyun

I FEEL LIKE HIS MUSIC TASTE WAS EXPLICITLY STATED BUT I DONT REMEMBER RAHH okay okay uhm- !! I can totally see him listening to Whitney Houston, Abba, The Cardigans, The Beatles etc for some reason but also he'd feel self conscious that his music taste is too "old" so he would throw in shit like Kendrick Lamar and Future to spice things up and he would never ever admit that his favourite song is Angeleyes by Abba.

Jaehee

Bubblegum Pop, Indie and Doo Wop!!! Mitski, Girl In Red, Kinneret, Princess Chelsea, The Chordettes and The Supremes are frequents of Jaehee's playlist! She only really listens to music on the plane or in the office though. It helps her relax and take her mind off the stress for a bit. I can imagine her learning piano and playing songs like Johnny Angel or Mr Sandman in her free time.

Rika

Rika likes Melanie Martinez and i refuse to argue. She would probably relate really hard to some of her music and overall loves the way it sounds. Can also see her liking Penelope Scott. On the other hand, i see her liking classical or just soft piano music. Color me Blue by Akane would also be a song i can see her liking.

Vanderwood

Metal, Glam Rock, Glam Metal, Dad Rock, 80s rock just. Yeah. You get the point. Metallica, Journey, Mötley Crüe, Guns n Roses, Van Halen, Cinderella, Def Leppord and Dokken !! His favourite bands. Just classic 80s/90s rock for ya. Absolutely goes to their concerts religiously. Probably plays electric guitar as well..he could perform his own concert tbf

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lapishero · 21 days ago

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Why Ground is the Queerest Pokémon Type

I saw someone say that Ground was thr most cishet type they could imagine and that pissed me off so here's the many examples of why that's untrue.

First up, a literal bear, yes I am biased.

Next up, they perform in a drag group they call Dragtrio, always together never apart.

Flygon? Literally a transfem lesbian, she told me herself.

I've heard at least one nonbinary person say Zygarde was their transition goals.

TRAINERS, it doesn't matter who you are or who you are or aren't attracted to, you have to accept that Rika has done more for the queer community than any other character.

And finally, who's the most prominent ground type trainers? You guessed it, more bears!

#pokemon #lgbtqia #ursaluna #rika pokemon #dugtrio #flygon #zygarde #this started as a shitpost but Im so serious

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queenendless · 1 year ago

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🍂🍁💝Thankful (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader ft Various JJK)💝🍁🍂

A/n: Spontaneous short fiction.

Sequel to Spooky Lovin'.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. To those who don't, well do whatever makes you happy.

Lots of characters/pairings, pure cavity esque fluff, with a twist!

All credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite what happens canon wise.

*Please don't plagiarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC work. Like, reblog and follow instead, thank you.

The enriching enthusiasm boomed out throughout your private abode.

You watched in beaming amusement through the open archway at the packed company.

Yuji laughed at what Megumi had to say which made the other smile; both close together on one end of the couch.

Nobara gushed over showing Maki upcoming winter attire releasing on her phone, to which the latter was intrigued, both also bundled closely on the other end of the couch.

Kento and Yu leaning against the wall, drinking apple cider as the latter rambled enthusiastically on their latest endeavor, while Ino popped in, praising a blushing Nanami on his caliber as his sorcerer icon.

Aoi clapping and weeping all up in the big TV showing Takada-chan's live performance in the themed parade happening down South.

Panda and Toge jumping in the leaf piles, a beaming Yuta swinging a giggling Rika around through the whisking leaves. Kamo sipped tea on the front patio as he watched the sunset.

Down the way, a car crossed by, with Shiu at the wheel and Toji eyeing the house with sharp ambivalence. Part of him missing his kids but accepting long ago that this is where they truly belong, nodding for Shiu to drive off.

A tipsy Shoko cuddling up with a blushing smiling Utahime in the hot tub on one end and Mei lounging and sipping on cider on the other end with Ui holding her bagged gear and waiting on her outside the tub, on standby, cause he's just that devoted.

Mai and Momo taking selfies together in the backyard garden before teasing a flustered Kasumi after Kokichi gifted her a flower in her hair.

Yuki and Choso; also in the backyard, napped together on the bench under the tallest looming tree, cozy smiles on their faces.

Kusakabe excused himself just to sneak into the bathroom to try out the jacuzzi.

Nanako and Mimiko braided Tsumiki's hair as they sat at the katsudon, smack dabbed in the center of their spacious living room.

Junpei blushing from Tsumiki noticing him gazing at her, smiling widely in return, to which a flushed Junpei jumped from Megumi's stern-faced warning to which his sister complained for him not to scare him so much and a nervously laughing Yuji consoled his horror buddy by hugging him and patting his back, simultaneously trying to calm down his boyfriend going all overprotective brother mode.

Masamichi made some festive themed cursed corpse dolls that were taking up space on the other couch.

Kiyotaka fumbled with his drink as Akari's beaming smile had him and Arata covering their flushed faces from how pure she looked.

Riko and Misato assist Suguru in the kitchen as they prepare the food.

Suguru, knowing you were still unwell, insisted you take it easy and let them handle the feast.

You had been feeling unwell the past few days.

You called in sick today when you felt something change.

You had to see for yourself.

And when you did, you felt inspired to message everyone you know for an impromptu get together at your place. The word spread via group chats, texts, and calls.

Watching everyone enjoying themselves at your impromptu get together heightened your spirits.

Just not for the festive touch.

But to be surrounded by all their beaming warm faces when —

Satoru warped right before barging through the front door with dramatic flair, exciting a few, scaring some, and annoying the rest.

“Honey, I'm home~!” Dropping the bag of pies on the counter, Satoru smooched Suguru fully on the lips.

The moment he noticed you practically glowing, the Six Eyes told him all that there is and will soon be, straight down to the first traces.

In that moment, everyone inside and outside felt the shifts in the cursed force as Gojo warped right before you, startling you out of your hidden viewing spot, his arms wrapping around your figure to catch you. You imagined his eyes trained on the right spot.

“You … you're …”

You couldn't suppress your smile. “I found out this morning. But I didn't know how to tell you both. I had a feeling your Six Eyes would show you the truth – AAH~!” Your yelp as he lifted you up in the air reverberated throughout the house, grabbing everyone's attention.

“Gojo-sensei?!” His students exclaimed in a jumbled mess.

“Satoru! Be careful – !” Suguru's concerns were cut short when he watched as you tugged down that blindfold just to see Satoru's awestruck eyes with your own.

Tears made his eyes sparkling that much beautifully, sniffling softly, beaming with that lovestruck smile as he lowered you down to embrace you, swinging side to side gently, laughing as he smooched your face with so many kisses.

“Y/n … thank you.”

As he sets you down; keeping you wrapped up in one arm, his other arm waving you two's partner over before intertwining their hands together to pull him in quickly. “Suguru~ We've got the hottest scoop of the year!”

Pressing himself right by your side, Suguru leaned down as you got up on your tiptoes to whisper your secret right in his ear. His stunned face was all you could read as he replayed your words in his mind, but he wanted to be certain. “Are you sure?”

Satoru's closed eyed smile and thumbs up added to the buildup. “These eyes don't lie!”

Burning wetness swelled up in those beautiful almond eyes as Suguru kissed you lovingly, smiling at you in the same smitten manner. “Best news ever.”

“Everyone!” Satoru hollered as his arms became yours and Suguru's thrones, lifting you both up, as he floated for literal joy. “We're having a baby!”

“And yes, it's all true!” You exclaimed boldly, knowing the people would take your word more easily than Satoru's.

First stunned silence. Which immediately erupted into cheers and applause of congratulations.

The twins, Tsumiki and Megumi were the first to get up and hurry on over to embrace you, shedding tears of joy.

Yuji and Haibara high-fiving Satoru who was over the moon.

Nanami shook hands to congratulate Suguru, warning him to make sure Satoru took extra caution with taking care of you and your little bundle before embracing you himself. You personally wanted to deem him as the godfather, just a side note.

As those from out front and out back swarmed in as the announcement shot straight through the roof from the loud groundbreaking importance.

After all the girls in the house fussed over you with hugs, advice and offers to help you through this new adventure, your husbands were in the same boat with almost everyone.

Except Kusakabe who was stuck in the bathroom for a while since the hallway was filled with the rest of your guests.

After embracing and congratulating you themselves, Riko and Kuroi announced the feast was ready.

Exchanging kisses with both your loves, you gave a toast.

Toasting to the new addition to your growing unique family.

Now that is cause to celebrate.

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