#where to find memory wipe juice

[thedensworld]

Dream Consequences | K.Mg

Genre: est. Relationship, fluff, suggestive;)

Summary: Mingyu had ignored you last night and you will make sure he'll pay for that.

I'm sorry, i'm just full of fluff these days:)

You woke up with a bitter feeling in your chest. Unconsciously, a scowl appeared on your face as the rays of sunshine invaded your sleep. What time is it? you thought, squinting at the bedside clock. It was 9 a.m.—Sunday.

You stayed in bed for a few more minutes, replaying last night’s events in your mind. The scenes came rushing back, each memory sharp and painful, making your heart clench. You turned your head towards the empty space beside you, where Mingyu should have been. The sheets were cold, and you sighed deeply.

He must be up already, maybe hitting the home gym or making breakfast in the kitchen, like he often did on weekends. Just as you were about to bury yourself back under the duvet, you heard the door creak open softly. Your eyes flickered toward the entrance, and your heart softened at the sight of a bright little face peeking in.

“Mummy!” An excited chirp filled the room, and your son bounded towards you, his small arms wrapping around you as he jumped onto the bed. His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile, welcoming him with warm hugs and kisses.

“How was your sleep, baby?” you asked gently, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.

He stopped giggling, his smile faltering slightly. “I had a nightmare,” he confessed, looking up at you with worried eyes.

Your heart tightened. “Oh, really?” you murmured, concern lacing your voice.

He nodded, his little face serious. “I was so scared, Mummy. I got out of my room and ran to Dad in the workout space.”

You smiled softly, proud of his courage. “You did a good job, baby.” You whispered to him to join his dad in the kitchen, watching as his face brightened again.

“Mummy’s awake!” your son announced loudly as he dashed into the kitchen, settling himself at the dining table. You followed him slowly, your gaze falling on the plates set out with a nutritious breakfast. His toy car lay abandoned next to the fork and knife—another small reminder of childhood innocence. Mingyu looked up from the stove as he heard the commotion, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” he murmured, wiping his hands on a towel before walking over to you. He wrapped you in his strong embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a mix of warmth and concern. But as he pulled back to study your face, he noticed your frown.

He tried to brush it off, but as breakfast went on, your silence deepened. You barely touched your food, and when Mingyu asked you if you wanted more coffee or juice, you just shook your head, eyes downcast. Mingyu glanced at your son, silently asking if something had happened, but An simply shrugged, focusing on his food.

“Did Mummy wake up grumpy today?” Mingyu teased lightly, trying to coax a smile out of you. Your son quickly shook his head.

“No, Dad. Mummy was already awake when I came in,” he answered truthfully. Mingyu’s brows furrowed, confusion darkening his gaze. Did he do something wrong that he didn’t realize?

Breakfast dragged on, the awkward silence lingering between you. Mingyu couldn’t shake the unease in his chest, but he decided to let it go for now. After finishing his meal, he called An to take a bath and get ready for his Sunday art class. You remained seated, eyes distant as if lost in thoughts far away from the bustling kitchen.

Once Mingyu dropped An off at the class, he returned home, still unsettled by your distant demeanor. He expected to find you in the living room, but you were nowhere to be seen. Worry gnawed at him. He headed to the bedroom, his footsteps quickening. The sight of you lying under the duvet, motionless, sent a jolt of fear through him.

“Love?” he whispered softly, stepping closer. He reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing your arm through the fabric. You didn’t flinch, but your eyes opened slowly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before you turned away, showing him your back.

“Hey…” Mingyu’s voice wavered slightly. He crouched beside the bed, his heart aching at your silence. “Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

You remained quiet, eyes closing again as if to shut him out.

“Did I… Did I do something wrong?” His voice was low, almost pleading. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to piece together what he might have missed. “Why are you ignoring me, sweetheart?”

The room felt heavy, your silence echoing louder than words.

Frustration simmered inside Mingyu as he watched you lie there, avoiding him. He crossed his arms, the bed dipping slightly as he sat on the empty space beside you. He looked down at you, his brows knitted together in concern and confusion.

“It’s mean, you know… You shouldn’t ignore me like this,” Mingyu mumbled, his voice soft but carrying a hint of hurt. His lips unconsciously pouted as he waited for you to respond.

You slowly opened your eyes, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. You knew he was right. You knew it was childish to give him the cold shoulder over something as irrational as a dream. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake off the weight on your chest, the bitter pang of pain that resurfaced every time you recalled the scene from last night’s nightmare.

“If I made a mistake, you should tell me,” Mingyu continued, his tone earnest as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You shouldn’t treat someone you love like this—leaving me to wonder what I did wrong.”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut, guilt instantly washing over you. He was right. You groaned inwardly, frustration now directed at yourself. Why does he have to be so mature? You thought bitterly. Mingyu was always patient, always understanding, and here you were acting like a sulking child. It made you feel embarrassed, yet at the same time, it only made you love him more.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself up, sitting up in bed almost too quickly. You turned to face him, but your eyes remained fixed on the floor, too ashamed to meet his gaze. Mingyu watched you with wide eyes, his posture straightening at the sudden change.

“You ignored me first,” you muttered under your breath, barely audible.

Mingyu blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. “When did I—”

“In my dream!” you blurted out, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, his expression softening. “A dream?” he repeated incredulously, his smile growing wider. He scooted closer to you, his thigh brushing against yours. “So, you’re upset because of something I did… in a dream?”

You nodded reluctantly, feeling utterly ridiculous now that you said it out loud. But Mingyu’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. He didn’t laugh or tease you further. Instead, he gently cupped your cheek, tilting your head up so that you had no choice but to look at him.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, even if it was just in a dream. But you have to tell me these things, love. I’m not a mind reader, and I hate seeing you upset and not knowing why.”

Your heart swelled at his sincerity, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. “It was just… a really bad dream, Mingyu. You were ignoring me, pushing me away… I know it’s silly, but it felt so real, and I woke up feeling like I’d lost you.”

Mingyu’s expression softened further, a look of understanding washing over his features. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m right here,” he whispered against your hair, his voice filled with reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You nodded, the ache in your chest finally beginning to fade. “I’m sorry for being difficult,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Just remember one thing,” Mingyu murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he cupped your cheeks gently, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I would never ignore you. You’re my drop-dead gorgeous wife—the love of my life. I would never do something as stupid as ignoring you, love.”

His dark eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart flutter. You immediately pulled back, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment at his sweet words. But Mingyu found your reaction adorable, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Ah, there she is. Shy as ever,” he teased, his grin widening. He didn’t give you a chance to retreat any further. Before you could even react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, settling you comfortably against him.

“Mingyu!” you squealed, instinctively placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. His embrace was firm yet gentle, and you could feel his warmth seeping through the fabric of your clothes.

“Yes, love?” he whispered, his voice low and dangerously smooth. The way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, sending a wave of heat coursing through your body. “You know you can’t escape me that easily, right?”

His words made your heart race, and you felt your resolve weakening under his gaze. Mingyu shifted slightly, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch feather-light against your skin. He traced lazy circles along your sides, his fingertips brushing just above the waistband of your shorts. Your breath hitched, the sensation both ticklish and electrifying.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his lips now ghosting along your jawline. His breath was warm, his scent intoxicating, making it hard for you to think straight. “But I have to say…” He paused, his lips hovering just a fraction away from yours, “I much prefer seeing you like this—so close, so vulnerable.”

Your gaze flickered to his lips, and you swallowed hard. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. “M-Mingyu…” you stammered, unable to find the right words. His name came out more like a plea, making his smile widen in satisfaction.

“Hmm?” He hummed softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “What is it, love? If you want something, you have to tell me.” He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with a mixture of adoration and something else—something far more dangerous. “Or do you want me to guess?”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He took his time, savoring the feel of you against him. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as his kisses grew deeper, more demanding. He gently nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from you, which he took as an invitation to explore further.

Your heart pounded wildly as he shifted again, his hands roaming up your back, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You could feel every ridge of his muscles under your fingertips, every beat of his heart against your chest. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your cheeks flushed.

“See what you do to me?” Mingyu whispered, his voice husky. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You drive me crazy, love. Absolutely crazy.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat spread through your entire body. “Mingyu…” His name slipped past your lips again, and this time, it held a different meaning. You felt his hold on you tighten, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he urged softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs. His touch was tantalizing, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Because I’m more than ready to give it to you.”

Your heart raced, every inch of your skin tingling with the promise in his voice. You hesitated for only a moment, your gaze locking with his, before whispering the words that sent his heart racing as much as yours.

“I want you, Mingyu.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. His expression grew even more intense, the playful smile replaced by a look of pure desire. Without another word, Mingyu wrapped his arms around you, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the middle of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmured against your lips, laying you down gently. He hovered above you, his gaze sweeping over you with a mix of reverence and need. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips.

“Let’s see if I can make up for what dream-Mingyu did,” he whispered, his voice a velvety promise as his hands began to explore, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

You shivered, anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. “Mingyu... Please.." You brethed out, your voice trembling with want.

His eyes darkened even more, smile turned into smirk. "Anything for you love, just tell me where to start.."

*

Later in the afternoon, the sun dipped lower in the sky as you and Mingyu stepped out of the house. The fresh autumn breeze brushed against your skin, making you shiver slightly. Without a second thought, Mingyu slid his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and before you could glance up at him, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he murmured softly, his voice still carrying that familiar hint of warmth. His eyes, however, glinted mischievously. “Makes me want to keep you inside the house all day—no distractions.”

You felt a rush of heat spread across your cheeks, remembering the intimacy you had shared just hours ago. Before you could get too lost in the memory, Mingyu nudged you playfully with his shoulder, his expression turning even more teasing.

“You think the neighbors heard us?” he whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe that’s why Mrs. Song next door was looking a little flustered this morning.”

“Mingyu!” you hissed, your eyes widening as you tried to stifle a laugh, your face turning even redder. You playfully smacked his arm, but that only made him chuckle.

“What? Just asking!” He shrugged, a smug grin playing on his lips. “You were a little… loud, you know.”

You huffed, trying to act indignant, but it was impossible to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “That’s your fault!” you retorted, your voice a bit quieter now. “If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you.”

“Me? Embarrassed?” Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. He took a step back, his hand still holding yours, pulling you closer as you made your way to the car parked in the driveway. “You’re mistaken, love. I’d shout it from the rooftops if I could.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sheer confidence and adoration in his voice. Mingyu pulled you in for a quick kiss on the cheek before opening the passenger door for you with a flourish, bowing slightly like a chauffeur.

“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he announced, his tone lighthearted.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you slid into the seat, watching him circle around to the driver’s side. Once he settled in and started the car, Mingyu reached over, placing a warm hand on your knee.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice casual, but you could see the playful glint still present in his eyes. “We should enroll An in a few more weekend courses.”

You blinked, glancing at him curiously. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Mingyu smirked, his gaze flicking over to you before he looked back at the road. “Because… if he’s busy all weekend, then we get more time to do… other things.” He paused, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Like what we did this morning.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly in shock before you burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You can’t be serious!”

“Completely serious,” Mingyu shot back, his expression almost comically solemn. “Just imagine—art classes, sports practice, music lessons… we’ll have so much free time, I might never let you out of bed.

“Stop it!” You laughed, swatting at his shoulder, but the laughter in your voice only encouraged him further.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his tone mock-defensive. “It’s for our own sanity. We need some alone time, too. Right?”

“Right,” you drawled sarcastically, rolling your eyes. But you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. His words were playful, but the underlying sentiment—the desire to cherish every moment with you—was unmistakable.

Mingyu’s grin softened, and he gave your hand a quick squeeze as you both fell into a comfortable silence, the car humming gently as it cruised down the road.

“Maybe we’ll find some balance,” you mused aloud after a moment, leaning back in your seat, your gaze flicking to him. “But I still think you’re a little too eager.”

Mingyu chuckled, his deep voice reverberating through the car. “Can you blame me?” He glanced at you, his gaze brimming with affection. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more. So, yeah… I’ll never get enough of being around you.”

Your smile widened as you felt a rush of emotion at his sincerity. You knew he was joking earlier, but the way he looked at you now—with a mix of love, contentment, and yearning—made you realize just how much he meant every word.

“I love you, Mingyu,” you whispered softly, reaching out to lace your fingers with his.

“I love you, too,” he replied immediately, squeezing your hand once more before lifting it to kiss your knuckles again. “Now, let’s go get our little troublemaker. I’m sure he has a million stories to tell us about art class.”

With that, you both shared a quiet, knowing smile as Mingyu drove on, the warmth and love between you two filling every corner of the car.

[kromeihl]

🕸️ prev. | next.

“Hey.” Kenji spoke as he entered the kitchen, coming back from school. “I’m making katsu curry tonight.” Aunt Mina spoke as she chopped the ingredients. “You’re serious? Katsu curry?” He mutters as he opens the fridge to grab a drink after glancing at the table.

“Since when don’t you like katsu curry, huh?” His aunt asks, moving the ingredients to the counter placing it on a pan. Kenji slowly moves away and into the sink as aunt Mina looks at his face in surprise. “Oh my God..”

“What’s up?” Kenji glances at his aunt as he asks. “What happened to your face?” She says in concern as Kenji laughs it off, “Oh, I’m all right, I just— I got hit by a baseball in practice.” He waves off, “I’m fine.”

His aunt gives him a look, not buying his excuse. “Kenji— you don’t even play baseball that much anymo—“ she gets cut off as she sees her husband carry a box of trophies. “Ben Sato, don’t you even think about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen. She says with a glare as she wipes her hands with the towel draped on her shoulder.

“These are my.. bowling trophies.” He says, trying to convince her to let him put it there. Kenji smiles as he listens to his aunt and uncle’s banter, chuckling as his lips are placed on the opening of the plastic bottle of juice he’s drinking.

Uncle Ben looks at Kenji, noticing his state. “What happened to you?” He says as he moves down his box of trophies. “He got hit by a baseball. You’re lucky you didn’t get hit by a bat instead.” Aunt mina answers, making Kenji chuckle.

“Well, it would’ve been more interesting.” Ben adds as he winks at Kenji, having fun at riling up his wife. “Ben!” Aunt Mina scolded.

“It’s funny because it’s stupid and dangerous.” He adds, making his wife turn to him as Kenji lets out another hearty laugh, “Remember how we were stupid and dangerous?” “No.” Aunt Mina quickly replies, stirring the food in the pan. “Trust me we were.” Uncle Ben nods, looking at Kenji.

“All right, good to know I’m not the only one.” He smiles, looking down at the wet floor. “Hey, where’s the flood?” He asks, uncle Ben picking his box of trophies again. “Follow me. I’ll show you.” He walks away, barefoot. “You serious?” Kenji asks, “Yeah!” His uncle replies. “All right.” Kenji mutters under his breath, his aunt looking at them both, unamused, as she continued to cook.

Seriously…men.

After Kenji and his uncle talked in the basement while trying to find the leak, his uncle finally starts walking up, Kenji still cleaning up some boxes and organizing them. “Hey, before you come up, see if there’s anything else worth saving.” His uncle speaks as Kenji held a piece of frozen meat on his bruised lip. “Okay.” Kenji replied, still organizing the things inside a box.

He walks away, moving a box from a corner. He puts it down, suddenly noticing a briefcase with the initials, “HS” on top of the lock. He remembers in the car, on their way to this house when he was still a child, his dad had the same bag. Hayao was taking out a folder, with plenty of papers outside.

He blinks the memory stuck in his mind as he slowly picks it up, walking upstairs. His aunt and uncle were heard bickering, Kenji still fixated on the briefcase of his father. He walks and stops into their view, his aunt and uncle staring at him in shock. They look at each other before looking back at Kenji.

“I forgot all about that thing. It was your dad’s.” Uncle Ben speaks up, making Kenji turn his head to him. “Yeah..” He mutters, “He asked us to keep it safe for him.” Kenji felt his eyes tear up at the sight of his father’s belonging. Feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him. “He saw it in the window of that leader shop in Okinawa. He was 19.”

Uncle Ben sat down on the chair, Kenji placing the leather bag on the table. “What does a 19-year-old kid need with a briefcase?” He jokes. “And guess who sold it to him.” Kenji shrugs, “Your mother.” Kenji glances at him in surprise, “Mom?” He smiles softly, remembering his mother.

Aunt Mina walks towards them, leaning on the wall as her heart clenches at the sight of Kenji smiling sadly. “That’s how they met!” Uncle Ben replies, nodding his head. “Dad asked you to keep this safe?” He glances at the bag before looking at his uncle, “Why? There’s nothing in here.” Aunt Mina smiles, walking a bit near.

“Hayao was a very secretive man, Ken.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He laughs, remembering his father. He starts opening the bag, feeling paper. He pulls it out of the bag, shock present on his face as he stares at it. “Who’s that? Do you know who this is?” He furrows his brow in confusion as he shows the picture to his aunt and uncle.

“Some guy who worked with your dad, I guess.” Uncle Ben says, acting unsure. Kenji tries to show his aunt, but she doesn’t reply. Ken looks at it, feeling like the answer was incomplete. Aunt Mina suddenly walks towards him, wiping the table. “Okay, put it away from the table. We’re going to eat, and wash your hands, now.” She says sternly, earning a nod from Ken as he puts the picture back inside.

“Go on.” Uncle Ben motions him to move, Ken nods, taking the hint as he walks away. As soon as his figure disappears, uncle ben looks at aunt Mina, a hand falling over her mouth as she looked in disbelief. “Oh dear..” She mutters.

Kenji was in his room, opening the briefcase as he placed the things outside, on the floor, all organized. Pictures, coins, scientific calculator, pens, were all scattered there, even his dad’s ID with the name “ULTRA” printed on the top. Kenji’s eyes slowly move towards the eyeglasses’ case, hand moving to get it.

He pulls out the glasses from its case, staring at it longingly as he remembered his father wearing them.

He slowly walks over to the bathroom, blinking as if to get ready to put on the graded glasses, even if he already had perfect vision. He slowly put it on his face, closing his eyes and opening them as he tries to adjust at the change of view. He slowly looks at the mirror, trying to adjust to his new look. He flashes a smile, poses, and even adjusts his glasses to look cool.

He takes them off, putting it on his shirt as he went back to his room, sitting down on the carpet floor as he grabs his father’s ID. Suddenly a memory flashes in his mind.

“Ken, I need you to be good.” Hayao, pats his son’s shoulder gently. Little Kenji looked taken a back, looking down then back up to his father who was kneeling on his level. “Dad, you’re leaving me?” He said with a voice that almost cracked, his father gently smiles, trying to cheer his son up.

“Just for a little while, Kenji. Your mother and I have something to do, it’s very important.”

Kenji shakes his thoughts off, still staring intently at the ID. He bites his lip, his eyes landing on the word “ULTRA” again, making him sigh as he placed the ID down, grabbing the briefcase that was laid at the center of the floor.

He starts observing it, moving it from side to side. He opens the briefcase again, putting his hand inside as he searches for more, maybe he missed something. He groans, turning the bag to the back as he opens the zipper. And he was right, he did miss something.

He slowly moves his finger from the start to the end of the zipper. His finger gently moves across as it stops in the end, flicking it as the part of the border opened. He finds a folder.

Before he lets it out fully, he quickly stands up a bit to close the door and clicks a device that he created which locks his door. He then sat back down, grabbing the folder like notebook and opening it.

He traces his fingers softly against the paper, eyebrows furrowing as he bites his lip, studying the notes and equations his father had written down. “What the heck, dad? You’re some genius..” He mutters, still studying the writings intently. His eyes falls to a sentence, an equation at the bottom of the paper, with the title “ØØ Decay Rate Algorithm.” He mutters the words written. “Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm.”

Suddenly his thoughts were cut off as someone knocks on the door, making him rush to keep the things out of the way. “Wait! One sec.” He says while moving it around. He finally sits back at his chair, placing his arms on the desk as he moves his hand around the computer. “You can come in now.” He replies, moving his long fingers around the mouse.

Uncle Ben looks at him, hand on the door knob. “You okay, Ken?” Kenji nods, “Oh, yeah I’m okay. What’s up?” Ken nods his head, acting cool. Uncle Ben raises a brow, his eyes falling to the glasses hanging on his shirt. “Is that..?” Before uncle Ben could further ask, Kenji puts the glasses on, blinking once in a while to try and adjust to the grade again.

“Yeah, it’s dad’s.” Uncle Ben smiles, giving him a nod, “Well, you look just like Hayao.” Kenji gives a small smile at the comment, “Can I come in?” Kenji nods at his uncle’s request.

Uncle Ben nods, closing the door behind him as he grabs a rubik’s cube from Kenji’s desk as he walks. “Well, uhm.. Listen.” He starts. “I don’t have much education. You know that, Ken.” Uncle Ben, sits down on his bed, fidgeting with the rubik’s cube as Kenji turns his head to look at him.

“Like, damn, I stopped being able to help with your homework when you were ten. Don’t even mention the fact that I don’t know how baseball works.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is, I know it’s been rough for you without your dad.” He looks at Kenji, who had looked down. “And I know we don’t talk much about them.”

“No, uncle it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not all right, Ken. I know that. I wish I could change it, but I can’t.” He sighs.

“Onda Hakase.” Kenji’s uncle said, making Ken look at him seriously and with curiosity. “That’s the name of the guy in the picture with your dad. They worked together for years and they were close. But after that night we never saw him again. He never called.” Kenji felt shock as he takes in the information, but hiding it with a nod.

“Not once.” Uncle Ben nods back, looking down at the rubik’s cube, “Go figure.” He mutters, looking back up again, his eyes trail to the computer, with a picture of you. “She’s pretty.” He points his head to the picture making Kenji’s smile falter as he turns his head back to the monitor. It was a photo of [Name], the one he had taken when she was so serious into reading that book. Kenji felt his face heat up slightly, feeling embarrassed that he was caught with his monitor screen with you on it.

“Uncle Ben.” Kenji calls out before his uncle was about to leave, “You’re a pretty great dad.” He smiles, making uncle Ben feel a pang of warmth engulfing his heart at the comment.

It was a few seconds after uncle Ben had left, Ken staring at the monitor screen, it was still you on it. He places his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on his desk as he zooms in into the book you were reading. “All about Kaijus.” He snorts as he mutters out the title of the book, raising a brow. He had sworn he heard that name before, it just wasn’t clear to him anymore.

His eyes slowly move to your face, observing your features. The background didn’t matter to him at all, he was just starstruck at the sight of you. He quickly snaps his thoughts off, moving his mouse to move the tab to the side and search the internet.

He remembers the name of the guy that his uncle mentioned, swiftly typing on his keyboard. “Hayao Sato and Onda Hakase.” He quickly clicks on a link after it popped up, his eyes slightly widening as he reads.

“𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭?”

His father and Onda Hakase were beside each other, a picture also displayed on the screen as he continued to scroll relentlessly. Pictures were shown. “𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨.” His eyes slightly widened, knowing that his parents had already died wasn’t such a shock to him, it was just a really bad memory.

He searches again, “Dr. Onda Hasake.” Tapping on another link that says, “A World Without Weakness.” His eyes slowly scan Dr. Onda’s statement, tapping into even more links to get more information as he studies all of them. His eyes then slowly fall into an Intern Enrollment, which was now closed. His cursor slowly move to the picture of a building, the ULTRA.

He furrows his brows as he continued to do a little more research on it, making a plan to meet Dr. Onda. He sighs, exiting the tab and seeing the picture of you in his screen again. He smiles, “Uncle Ben’s right.” He turns his attention back to his plan, sighing.

This is just the start.

Hi lovies! I know what you’re thinking about, there’s less interaction of reader and ken together here but the next part will take a big turn👀 Just wanted to make y’all wait ‘cause patience is a must (or I just like playin’ with y’all.) I’m working on two stories, (one that pays up and this one on tumblr!) So sorry if I haven’t reached your expectations this time..😞

Thank you so much for the support and being patient. I’ve been busy lately, with much love 💕

This series will be under this tag— if you’re having difficulty finding other parts, check this: #ameijamsspiderken🕸️

taglist: @luneariaa @lovingyeet @aishallnotbefound @harperwasstaken1 @onlysarang @thewifeoflevi @mochminnie @zayai

[zarnzarn]

"Penelope," Odysseus whispers, heartbroken. She cannot stop crying enough to see him, and it makes her cry harder, even as the familiar scent of him moves closer and is followed by his arms around her, holding her up as she falls to pieces.

"I couldn't- I couldn't find-" She gasps for air, desperately hoping no one is around. Grief comes slamming into her like a tidal wave, laying her low with unrelenting memories of the injustice of wanting her husband home the most of anyone in the war and being the only to not get her wish and fear for how her reign would end and all the other feelings she should have gotten over already. "I couldn't find you," she sobs out finally, the words shaking out of her as her shoulders heave.

"Easy, my love, breathe," Odysseus coaxes, picking her up like it was nothing, tilting her at an angle that must be straining his shoulders to let her cling to him tighter. Cry, like it's the first time she realised how her wait had outlasted their marriage, where cannot breathe in for how hard she weeps, lungs burning. "Peace. I'm here, my darling, see, would a shade be able to do this?"

A choked, teary laugh is forced out of her as he spins on his heel suddenly, stopping her sobs with the momentum, leaving her gasping for breath and sniffing, shaking like a beaten dog, out in the rain. Alone and pawing at the memories of a warm hearth, with a pack's responsibilities on her shoulders and nowhere to set it down.

"See, now, there you go, drifting away again," Odysseus chides, twirling them both around once more, fast enough to make her half-squeal. "Am I so boring to you, compared to the mamba's nest of statespeople you have toyed with these long years? Must I put on a silly costume and dance around as entertainment, my dearest, tell you jokes and riddles to keep your attention? You wound me if you say yes, for I will lose the little respect our son still has for me."

She laughs wetly again at his chatter, the tempest in her head fading enough for the sobs to go from wailing to crying.

"Penelope," Odysseus sings her name in that strange way that sounds oddly like an owl's call, that no one can replicate. The chains around his feet jangle, a familiar sound she has trained herself into associating with her husband. She blinks the tears from her eyes, calming a little at the sound so she can see him. He clicks his tongue and wipes her tears away by rubbing their cheeks together, making her burst into choked giggles.

They don't last long, and she returns back to gasping for air as she runs out of energy, trembling.

Odysseus sighs, bittersweet, as he gives up on trying to make her laugh. Penelope sniffs, clinging on tight when she's suddenly lowered into soft sheets. "I'm here," He whispers, stroking her hair, letting her dig her nails in. "Oh, my poor beautiful wife. I'm back now. I would not leave for anything."

"I couldn't find you," Penelope whispers, small and scared. "I was calling for you from the door and there was no answer. I couldn't hear the chains. And no one knew where you were."

"All those who knew were with me, which won't happen again. I was only out at the merchants to see the new cloth with Tele," Odysseus murmurs. "Darling-"

"I cannot let go of the fear," She confesses in a rush. Closes her eyes and rocks them back and forth, trying to bury her face into Odysseus' shoulder and disappear into him. "Don't know how to convince myself that you are not an illusion. How to stop missing you, even when you are right in front of me. That I will wake up and still have to do it all alone."

Odysseus pulls back and stares at her, devastated, tears in his eyes. He opens his mouth and shuts it, helplessly. "Sweetest of my heart," he says finally, and lowers himself down on top of her so she can feel the full weight of him, smell his sweat and the ointment he applies on his scars and the juices of the fruit he fed her that morning by hand.

(Telemachus had sighed the sigh of the long-suffering when he took his seat next to them that morning for breakfast. "Must you?"

"Must we what?" Penelope had teased, and then opened her mouth for another fruit from her husband's hand, who was hiding a laugh in her hair, perched on her lap, his chair knocked to the side and lying sadly on the floor.

Telemachus shook his head, mock-disappointed and sighed louder.

"Come," Odysseus had said, patting his own lap. "Here, Tele, I will feed you too. Come."

"I'm not a dog," Telemachus had complained, over Penelope's sudden protests about not agreeing to this- and then came over and jumped up into Odysseus' grasp anyway, making Penelope yell at the sudden weight and her two rascals cackle at her.)

"Odysseus," She whispers as she exhausts of her crying and interspersing sobs an hour later, letting it curl on her tongue. She had stopped saying it, when the looks around her transformed from sympathy to concern over her sanity, and it became a political decision to not say her husband's name until he returned.

"Penelope," He returns, tightening his arms around her until her ribs creak. She sometimes wishes he were a violent man, that war had changed him enough to be rough with her, so she would have bruises to carry around to remind her he was there with her. But if he was, would she love him still?

"Give me something," She begs. She feels incredibly small and stupid, shaking like a child, and it is the only the fact that her real husband wouldn't falter or recoil in the face of her weaknesses and breakdowns that keeps her talking. "Something to prove you're here, please, please, husband-"

"Peace, Penelope," Odysseus says, in a voice sterner than he's ever used with her; the one he uses in court, making her stomach swoop. He moves back when he feels her tense under her, and studies her expression with a sharp eye. She loves him more than anything, would gladly slit open her torso to give him her innards if he so much as implied a passing fancy to having them, but even that isn't enough to fend off the slight bloom of mortification when realisation flashes across his eyes.

He kisses her, harder than usual, and she tries to focus on it rather than her still-racing thoughts.

"You are no longer Queen of Ithaka," Odysseus says, low and final, and the horrifying shock of the sentence nearly makes her moan. "Not in this room. You have held the burden of the kingdom for fifteen long years, and now you will let me make you put it down."

"No," Penelope protests, between kisses. She is still coming down from the fear planted in her by all the strong women that buoyed her these years, who grimly predicted that her husband would snatch the throne back as soon as he returned, coupled with the guilty relief that she no longer had to be in charge, no matter that it was by force. "I love her. My Ithaka. Rough and beautiful."

Odysseus huffs, smiling against her skin. "She loves you too. Which is why you must listen to her beckoning for you to rest." He punctuates his sentence by pressing down on her stomach, entire body weight on his hands as he drags his palms up her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her shoulders. "Relax, Penny. The kingdom wants for nothing, food is overabundant, no one fights, no ruler gives us trouble. You do not have to hold everything together on your own anymore."

Penelope snorts. "Ithaka says so, does she?"

"Am I not Ithaka?" Odysseus says, voice twisting and changing until it sounds like a woman speaking. Penelope is hit sideways by lust, stomach flipping at the smirk sent her way. It gets wider at her expression, as he leans down and croons, "Penelope."

"Oh, gods," Penelope says, strangled, bracing herself on his shoulders.

"Give you something," Odysseus muses, in that same voice, that lights on fire the part of her that used to be obsessed with the stable master's daughter. "How about..."

He picks up her hand and kisses her wrist gently, tenderly, like it is the most delicate of pottery, the most precious of gems. He rubs a hand over her veins once lovingly, then fits his teeth around them, eyes flashing with heat as he glances over her.

Her heart skips a beat. She nods. He bites down with canines sharper than he'd left with and she screams.

"Oh," She gasps when it's done, looking at the bleeding wound lovingly marked around her pulsepoint. Her husband tips her chin up and she smiles finally, stretching up to meet his bloody kiss. "Oh, more. More, Ody."

"As my wife desires," He murmurs, possessiveness catching fire in his eyes as he turns to set his teeth to his neck- still not violent, but perhaps the slightest bit loosened from the leash.

Penelope moans, vision hazy as her head rolls, staring up at the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, then another, letting the panic recede in the face of a daydream of wandering around with a necklace of bruises every day, until they grow old.

He always knows how to handle her so well. She had begun to think she'd imagined it, how well the man she married had met her at every turn, every trick. Yet only a few months in his return and still he guides her expertly from all the bad things in life like a sheepdog, like an overanxious newlywed; some days making her so happy that the fifteen years past had never happened.

"You will look at these and remember no one else could leave them but me," Odysseus orders, the sneer of the rabid slaughterer in his gaze. It makes all the tension seep out of her, tears escaping in relief as she nods. "And I won't go out of earshot ever again, so you always can hear how you've chained your poor husband down like a mule, forever to trip over his own feet and smash into the floor."

"Chained you like a bird," Penelope corrects, her smug, thrilled smile returning at the reminder, reaching down to shorten the chain. "No more flying for you."

"None," He agrees.

Her smile wavers as the tail end of her grief comes sliding back. "Hold me?"

"Forever and ever and ever," He promises, wrapping his hands around her. She shakes in his hold. He kisses the side of her head, holding his wrist still scarred with her own teethmarks up to her lips in offering. Her eyes roll back as the familiar blood rolls over her tongue, calming the storm in her chest at last. He pulls his hand back and cards it through her hair, pulling out all the ornaments that mark her as Queen, staining them with blood. "I promise. Calm, Penelope."

"I'm calm," She sniffs wetly. "I wouldn't do it for anyone but you."

"Neither would I," Odysseus replies. "Would you like to have sex? I can please you with my mouth if you want."

Penelope snorts ungracefully at the formal way he still says it, like it's an offer to go fetch something from the kitchens. "No. Just hold me."

Odysseus murmurs something in response and starts humming, rocking then back and forth. Blood on both their mouths still.

"Actually-" Penelope says abruptly, and Odysseus bursts into laughter like she knew he would. She smiles at the sound, and closes her eyes to bathe in it, and carefully brings herself to take the first step to trusting that he will still be there when she opens them.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Beel and mc first date short fic ✨

Our sweet boy Beel deserves all the love <3 Let's gooooo!

Characters: Beel x MC Sharing food as a love language, pure fluff. Did first kiss too, I hope that's okay! No warnings apply

This was a joke, right?  

You were seeing things. You had to be seeing things. 

There was in no way in all the three realms that Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony and Ruler of the Underworld, had just placed half of his gigadeath burger on your plate.  

Half. 0.5. ½.  

You weren’t sure his stomach could handle such deprivation! He was a growing demon! He needed his nutrients! 

“What?” Beel paused his chewing, burger grease dripping down his fingers and onto the checkered parchment paper on the tray before him. “You’re not hungry?” 

Eyes flitting from the burger - the frankly delicious burger oozing premium molten mozzarella, the cheese mingling with the juice pooling from the sizzling meat patty - to his concerned gaze, you wiped the drool from the corner of your lip and shook your head. “It’s not that. It’s just… Don’t you want your whole burger?” 

It was cute, the way he cocked his head to the side. His fiery hair fell into his eyes for a moment, his slow blink drawing your attention to his dark eyelashes. Your heart stuttered in your chest when he lifted his shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I want you to try it. It’s really good.”

“Are you sure?” Your devil nuggets called your name from their carton next to your soda. They were tasty, sure, but that burger looked like something else.

“Yeah,” He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you think we were only coming here tonight?”

The taste flooding your tongue - savory and salty with a crunch from the fixings cradled between two soft buns - was so overwhelming, you didn’t register his words. You were too busy relishing in the richness of the burger as it traveled down your throat and to your stomach, warming you from the inside out. It didn’t even bother you that the patty was probably made from some weird Devildom animal that you would usually find unappetizing. The burger was too good to care.

Realization struck you like lightning from above. “Wait, what?”

It was not lost on you how Beel’s indigo gaze traced the tip of your tongue as you licked at the residual taste on your lips. Something unreadable lanced through his irises. Suddenly, it was awfully hard to meet his eyes, your heart firmly lodging itself in your throat. 

Lazily nibbling on his last acidic hell fry, he suggested, “Want to have a campfire?”

“A campfire?” You echoed, ducking your head when you became self-conscious of your dumb expression.

His mind made up, he toweled off his greasy fingers and stood, the stool screeching against the wooden floors of Hell’s Kitchen. “Yeah,” Determination as sharp as his jaw set his brow into a deep furrow. “Come with me.”

Keeping up with Beelzebub on the hunt for food was easier than you had expected. Looming over most demons, his long legs gave him the ability to cover impressive distance with each step. However, you found it wasn’t difficult to wander the streets of the Devildom at his side. Maybe it was the way he moved slowly, with intention, as if he was trying to commit every second of this night to his memory. Maybe it was his big heart, always so considerate of those he cared about. 

Maybe he was looking out for you, just as you always looked out for him. There was a reason you kept snacks on your person at all times, after all. 

It had come as a surprise when Beel had requested your attendance for an impromptu dinner at Hell’s Kitchen. You had been drowning in homework, the sharp knock on your bedroom door startling you from your third attempt to actually absorb the words on the page in front of you. 

“Hey, dinner tonight?” He had asked, so casually as if it was any other day.

“Sure,” You had smiled.

“Cool,” He had beamed that dazzling Beelzebub grin that stretched wide across his face. The one where you could count all of his sharp teeth. The one that creased his eyes into crescent moons and made your stomach twist into a pretzel. “It’s a date.”

You were pretty sure it had taken you at least five minutes to process the bomb he had dropped on you upon his exit. Another fifteen to find a suitable outfit - casual and comfortable, but also nice, you know? And you couldn’t possibly discount the solid forty minutes spent worrying over whether he was joking or being serious. 

When he had met you in the entrance hall clad in his best jeans and a flattering, nice sweater, you felt the relief inflate your chest like a helium balloon. 

And really, you still felt like you were walking on air. Even as you stood in the snacks aisle of a Devildom bodega, shying away from the unflattering glare of overhead fluorescent lights as Beel rifled through foil packaging with an intensity that you long learned accompanied his hunger. 

He fought you tooth and nail at the register, amusement dancing upon his lips. “Why should you pay?”

“Because you bought dinner,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as if it would possibly make you more intimidating in the eyes of the 6’4” demon. 

“Hmmm,” he mulled over your argument for a millisecond, just to lean down and blow a raspberry in your face. He smirked, “Nope.”

It caught you off guard, your face burning as bright as a screaming tomato. Brattiness was usually Belphie’s expertise. 

Mischief melting into soft affection in his indigo gaze, fixed to you as the bodega clerk processed his payment, he ventured, “What if… you cover our next date?”

You liked the way the tips of his ears flushed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck and shot you a sheepish, albeit genuine, smile. 

“I think that would be fair.” A tickle spread across your cheeks, scrunching your nose and burning your skin. 

Though, the heat from your flush had nothing on the warmth of the flames lapping at the inky Devildom sky. The embers shot like fireflies reaching for the stars, the campfire crackling within the confines of the pit, lined by rocks that would dwarf even Beelzebub’s palm. It had come as a surprise when Beel had led you off the beaten path, guiding you to a clearing in a forest not too far from the House of Lamentation. However, the secret fire pit made a lot more sense when he explained that it was typically reserved for stargazing with Belphie. 

“Are those… rice krispie squares?” You asked, the pop of an adhesive seam wafting vanilla your way.

“They’re crackling mallow bars,” Beel corrected, though there was no judgment in his tone. He had this way of introducing you to Devildom cuisine in a manner that felt familiar, like he understood that there were a lot of similarities between the dishes you knew. “They’re made up of marshmallows and these crispy marrow bits that are caramelized and -”

“Do they taste sweet?” You suppressed a grimace at the unappetizing description.

He chucked, the sound oozing reassurance, “Yes.”

“Okay, cool.” As he retrieved two long sticks, splitting into sharp prongs at the tip, nostalgia hit you like a truck. You hummed, “I used to eat something like this all the time when I was little.”

He raised a brow. “You’re still little.”

“Very funny.”

He laughed. Peeling the wrapper from two treats, he secured both on the ends of the sticks. “Have you ever roasted them over a campfire?” 

“I never considered that. They would melt pretty fast, wouldn’t they?”

“You would think so,” He passed you a stick, eyes warm with encouragement and something akin to childlike awe, “But they actually hold up for a while.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Just you and Beel and the chirps of the hell crickets in the undergrowth. It was hard to pay attention to the way the sweet bars darkened, a char climbing up the chunks of… marrow, or whatever… when you could feel Beel’s eyes on you. 

When you met his gaze, he was ready, already pulling the snack from his stick. “Here, try this.”

The marshmallow near compromised, the dessert fell apart in his large hands. Beel’s fingers tangled in sticky sweetness, you gasped in delight as strings of sugar stretched towards you with his gesture. “Oh, it’s so gooey!” 

His smile was so big, so warm, and you had the sudden thought that if you were in Icarus’s shoes, you too would fly too close to the sun. He went to feed you the treat, laughing, “Open wide!”

The explosion of flavor on your tongue - hot and sweet with that smoky campfire accent - had you squirming in delight, a thrilled hum vibrating in your throat. You were grateful that Beel thought to remove your stick from the fire. You were far too occupied with your new favorite snack to notice it about to ignite. 

Beel’s laughter died, his brow furrowing as conflict eclipsed the joy in his gaze. You looked to him, confused. “What?”

Had he always been that close? Had he been watching you with such longing this entire time?

“You’ve got a bit of marshmallow…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes zeroing in on your lips. “Can I?”

You nodded. Your mouth was so dry, your pulse in your ears. With his nose nudging yours, you could taste the sweetness of the marshmallow treat on his breath, feel the way you were drawn closer like sticky sugar insistent on holding you together. 

His lips brushed yours - soft and chaste. It was funny how a kiss so gentle could hold so much weight. Featherlight, a tender brush, and yet you felt as though the prints of his lips were engraved on yours forevermore. 

“Mmm, tastes extra good,” he breathed, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs smoothed over your skin, his eyes reading your soul as you leaned in to kiss him again. A peck to his lips, to his nose, to the apples of his cheeks.  

“What are you thinking about?” You murmured, reveling in his proximity, his radiant warmth. 

“Trying all my favorite foods off your lips,” He smiled, the twitch of his lips slotting against yours with such ease. “Think we could try that?”

“Sure,” You laughed, “It’s a date.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

this is low-key a love letter to burgers. My requests are open! Find more info HERE. Banner by @4laurus. Check out her work - and also her Beel.

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 13: Night

This, was a lot of fun. I told the moon lovers they'd get their juice, and I held up my promise. So, come get y'alls juice. Also MAN did this get long, didn't realize it until I went to check it for errors

Word count: 1003

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Something's been watching you at night. 

You had assumed it was the neighbor's cat. Usually, that seemed to be the case. But even when Bojangles would come up to you, having scaled your garden wall, and then pitter-pattered his way across your roof-you spent a lot of time out here now-there still felt like something spying on you, from beyond your line of sight. 

The back of your property borders the woods, it's expected that there's something out there. You just don't know why it's all of the sudden started watching you. As opposed to say, normal animal things. 

It's been a few months now. And you wouldn't necessarily say it's bothering you, rather, you're just curious as to why this is happening. Thought you can't deny, it's a bit unnerving. 

You'd been sitting out on your roof like this, pretty much since you lost your old job. Though, really it was more that your place of work burnt to the ground and thus, you were left without a job as a result. 

It wasn't just the job you'd lost, a bitter and wounded part of you whispers. It'd been a lot more, than just some stupid job.

"Which do you think is better?" You ask, showcasing the two different glow in the dark clip-on earrings you were wearing.

Moon's faceplate spins in thought, "Why not both?"

"Hm, I suppose that's an option. Your opinion has been duly noted."

He chuckles, "You're taking this very seriously aren't you?"

"Of course!" You go back to digging through your box of supplies, pulling out more decorations, "A kid asking for a glow in the dark birthday party? With you? Everything has to be perfect."

You feel a presence hovering over you. Glancing up you see the red-eyed bot staring down at you. Before he can react, you slap a glowing sticker on his chest.

He looks down at it, then back up to you. 

You tip your chin up, "Personally, I don't think you're taking it seriously enough."

"Oh?" He bends down, "Is that what you think?"

"It is. I mean, this is so exciting! And yet, here you are, as low energy as ever. Course you're always low energy so I suppose I can't-"

Moon's arms wrap around you, pressing his forehead to yours, "I'll admit, I'm a bit distracted at the moment. Perhaps you could remedy that?"

You frown, "Now Moon, you wouldn't be pretending to be uninvolved as a tactic for affection, would you?"

"Never," He rasps.

You give a kiss to his smile, "I didn't think so."

The memory is interrupted by a noise out in the woods. You wipe your eyes with a sniffle, watching, looking to see if there's anything different this time compared to all the others. 

There is. 

Out, past your wall, just beyond the edge of the tree line, where the light of the moon can't quite reach, there's a figure.

You feel a sense of alarm at this. And when you realize just how tall they are, your sense of dread grows.

You can't make yourself move, it's like you're frozen by their gaze. Your heart starts to race in your chest as you quickly run out of rationality regarding what is out there watching you.

A bump to your right arm and small mewl breaks your free. 

Looking down, you find Bojangles rubbing up against you, desiring pets. You find it in you to huff a quiet laugh, smiling slightly as you reach down and pet him. It helps you gain the nerve to look back at the figure again.

They're gone.

Thump.

You jump, and Bojangles quickly scurries away from you, across the roof in the opposite direction of the noise. Slowly, you turn to face is yourself, somehow already knowing what awaits you. 

A giant figure casts a shadow over your roof. The moonlight behind them causes any/all of their features to be indistinguishable. The only thought that comes to your mind is mechanical. Ragged and mechanical.

There's a few clicks that emit from their body as they tilt their head. That, and the sound of…

Bells?

A step closer. You twist to fully face them, unsure what to do. Another step. There's all sorts of noises coming from this machine's? broken body. Creaks and groans, clicks and whirls, and of course, bells. They sound, wrong. Hollow. 

Lonely. 

Your eyes dart to your open window, to the ground, back to the figure again. Your time is running out, better make a choice before-

You recognize that ruby red glow. You know that star-filled night cap. And you definitely know how that sticker got on his chest.

"Moon?" You ask. 

The figure stops. Now only several feet from you. His faceplate twists again. 

You reach a hand out, only to retract it, "I, I don't understand. They said, they said nothing survived the fire. How did you make it out?"

No answer. His fingers tap against his torn pants. Which, looking closer you can see some of them have lost their casing, only the metal endoskeleton remains.

"You know what, it doesn't matter," You shake your head, tears welling up again as you start to smile, "We'll get this figured out. I'm just so glad that you're okay."

Moon takes another step. For some reason, you no longer feel at ease. You watch as that broken hand taps its fingers against itself. Clinking against each other. Seeing how they glint in the low light you realize just how sharp they are.

He comes to a stop in front of you, you can only make out his eyes still. You don't move.

"Moon-man?" You ask again, a bit softer this time.

"It's past your bedtime."

You no longer feel relief. 

You no longer feel safe.

But still, you try. You swallow, "You um, you know it's me, right?"

His eyes crinkle as he chuckles. It's not the laugh you remember. It's, downright sinister.

Too little too late you watch that clawed hand raise.

"Nighty-night~"

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

I think Bojangles is a really good cat name. Yeah, pretty sure that's all I have to say. My promptober masterlist is here, thanks for reading!

[darkbluekies]

just gotta i am in-love with your writings and Hedwig, i need more moments with hedwiggggg 💜 idbeixn

[You were right on time, I just finished this one hehe]

Young Love

Female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: Hedwig finds you hurt and afraid in the school's basement and she's determined to punish the ones who's hurt you

Warnings: obsessive love, mentions of arson and corpses, hitmen, abuse, bullying

Word count: 2.4k

She always freaks out when she can’t find you — especially in school. She’s not oblivious, she knows how people are treating you when she’s not around. And she despises it. She could never have guessed how horrible the students were when you were alone if she hadn’t caught one of them pushing you one day. It made her confused. They’re always sweet and polite to your face when she’s there … but this only shows how jealous the others are of you. It makes her sick to her stomach and reassures her that you are the only one who is real. Everyone else are two-faced snakes … you’re not. You’re an angel. You’re nice to everything and everyone. And this is why she’s terrified of when you disappear from her reach … especially in school. 

“Y/N?” she asks, turning the corner. “Where did you go?”

She picks up her phone and calls you. She waits impatiently until the beeps disappears and you finally pick up.

“Y/N, where did you go?” she asks quickly. “I went to the vending machine and when I came back you were gone! You promised to stay on that bench-”

“I did stay …”, you whisper in a tone she hates. 

“Are you crying? What happened? Where are you?”

“The basement stairs.”

Hedwig hangs up and runs. Her heart is pounding hard in her chest. She clutches the juice packet in her hand and her designer purse in the other. The corridors are cluttered with students, but they move aside for Hedwig. Everyone is kissing her ass in one way or another. They make her sick. 

Hedwig reaches the basement stairs, seeing you curled up in a ball in the darkness right by the closed basement door. She runs down the stairs and sinks down in front of you. Your school uniform is ruffled up and your eyes are red with tears. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Hedwig pants and grabs your arms. “Tell me, please.”

You sob and meet her hazel eyes. Hedwig pulls you close and hides your face into her shoulder. Your form is shaking in her arms and she is close to freaking out. 

“Y/N, please tell me what happened”, Hedwig pleads helplessly. “I need to know why you’re upset. I want to help you.”

You pull away and wipe your tears with a shaking hand. Hedwig follows your every movement impatiently. She bites her lip to prevent shouting at you. 

“I did stay”, you say quickly. “I didn’t leave-”

“I know, I know, okay?” Hedwig cuts you off, rubbing your shoulder. “I trust you. Just tell me what happened.”

“When you had left … some students walked up to me and started pushing and shoving me. I stayed on the bench … until they managed to push me off. They dragged me here and … and …” Your voice dies out. 

Hedwig hasn’t realized that she’s holding her breath. Her heart is pounding against her ribs. What did they do to you?

“And?” she asks carefully. “What did they do?”

You pull up your white shirt, exposing your stomach. Red, swollen skin that will most likely turn into a big, nasty bruise gets exposed. Hedwig can’t believe her eyes. How can someone be so cruel to hurt someone as angelic as you? It’s unthinkable. It’s … criminal. 

“They hurt you …”, she whispers, but she can’t believe it. 

“They kicked me”, you sniffle and start to shake even more when reliving the memories in your head. “And they ripped my hair … I’m scared to see if there are bald spots now …”

Hedwig hurries to sit on her knees and straighten her back. Gently, she searches through your scalp. She can’t find any bald spots, but there’s a few drops of blood and irritated skin. 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone”, Hedwig says sadly. “I should have brought you with me. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted these horrible people. Darling, I can’t let you stay here anymore. We’re going home. I’m going to call my chauffeur.”

She fishes up her phone and makes the angriest call she’s ever done. The chauffeur tells her that he’s going to be there in fifteen minutes. You’re not in the shape to move and he promises to carry you out to the car. Hedwig hangs up and turns to you. You look so empty. Hedwig wants to cry, but she has to stay strong for you. 

She pulls out the juice carton and takes out the straw from the little plastic bag. She presses it into the cardboard box and holds it to you. 

“Here you go, sweetheart”, she says softly. “Sip on this while we wait, okay?”

You nod slightly and lock your lips around the straw. Hedwig sighs and caresses your hair.

“Good girl/boy”, she says softly. “EVerything is going to be okay, alright? I’m going to fix this.”

“If people really have a problem with me being with you … then maybe-”

“No, don’t finish that sentence. They’re jealous. We’re perfect for each other. Don’t let them ruin our special connection. Just drink your apple juice and let me take care of this. Trust me, darling.”

You nod carefully and sip on your juice. Hedwig can’t help but think that you look like a lost, little child. 

The chauffeur comes a while later, walking down the stairs to the basement door. 

“Finally!” Hedwig breathes out and stands up. “Please pick them up so we can leave as quickly as possible.”

You groan as the man picks you up in his arms. Hedwig watches worriedly. She follows the man out to the car where you’re allowed to lay down in the backseat. Your head is resting in Hedwig’s lap as she caresses your cheeks, looking down at you the entire time with a comforting smile.

You come home to her mansion and the chauffeur carries you up to Hedwig’s room. She helps you get out of your school uniform and into your pajamas. She hates to hear your whimpering and moaning as she wiggles you out of your clothes. 

“I know it hurts, but you’ll get to rest soon, my dear”, Hedwig apologizes. 

Your stomach looks worse now. Hedwig clenches her jaw and makes a silent promise that she’s going to get her revenge. 

“There we go”, she says gently and fixes your hair. “Now you’re in your pajamas and you’re now safe. Why don’t you take a nap? I will be here all the time. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

You nod slightly. Hedwig tucks you in your bed and gives your lips a kiss. You sob against her lips which makes her kiss you again. Hedwig sits with you until you fall asleep, stroking your hair softly. In her head, she’s plotting her revenge bit for bit. As soon as she’s sure you’re asleep, she stands up and grabs her phone. There’s a hidden phone number in the bottom of her list — a contact that only she has. She puts the phone to her ear. 

“I need you to come here right now”, she tells the person on the other side of the line. “Well, I’ll pay you double — triple — whatever the person who you’re working for right now if you drop that mission. Thank you.” Hedwig hangs up and lifts your hand, kissing the back of it. “Don’t be scared, my love. I love you so much.”

She invites the older man into her room when he arrives to the mansion. 

“You’re bloody”, Hedwig mutters. 

“You did just interrupt me on a mission”, the older man answers. “What do you need, miss Hedwig?”

“A few immature kids kicked my boyfriend/girlfriend. They need to be taught a lesson.”

“I understand. I know you’re very fond of Y/N. So-”

A noise from the bed makes Hedwig hush the man and turn her head towards you. You’re shooting up in a sitting position, clutching your hand over your hurt stomach with wide, frantic eyes that start to fill with tears. Hedwig hurries over to you and hugs your head down into her shoulder. You’re hyperventilating into her warm neck.  

“It’s okay, it’s okay”, she hushes and strokes your hair. “You’re safe, everything is fine, my dear. It was just a nightmare.”

“H-Hedwig”, you sob and pull her closer. 

Hedwig has to blink away the tears that form in her eyes. Oh, she hates to hear you cry. She knows that you’re in pain and how afraid you are. 

“Who’s that?” you whisper and turn your red eyes to the bloody man. 

“Uh … he’s just a friend of my dad’s”, Hedwig lies. “He needed a place to stay for a little while. Don’t worry about him, he’s not hurt.” She turns her head to the man. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

The man smiles. “Not at all, Y/N, I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You need to sleep and rest your stomach”, Hedwig says and gently pushes you down on your back. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Hedwig sits with you, holding your hand.

“I don’t want to go back to school again”, you whisper and sniffle. 

“Everything will be resolved by monday”, Hedwig smiles and wipes your tears. “This will never happen again. People will treat you with respect from now on. I’ll ask dad if he can put us into another school — a better school — where you won’t be treated badly anymore by jealous nobodies. If we’re lucky, we’ll be around people who already have what they want and won’t need to suck up to me.”

“Like … a private school?”

“I know a lot of my friends who go to one special school. I’ll see if I can get dad to put us there. My friends will help me protect you.”

“I won’t be able to pay that tuition.”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N, I’ll pay for you. But either way, I’m not sure we’ll get in. My dad is as stubborn as a mule and won’t let me off easy. But don’t worry about that. I will fix it. Just focus on resting.” 

You nod carefully and close your eyes. Hedwig strokes the back of your hand while watching you sleep.

“Those kids are going to pay”, she growls without turning her eyes away from your peaceful sleeping form.

“The normal scare then, miss Hedwig?” the man asks.

“No … no, I want you to kill them.” 

“Are you sure?”

She turns her head to the man. “I want you to do your utter worst, you hear me? I want those kids gone for good. It doesn’t matter how much it’ll cost me, I’ll pay whatever.”

The man sighs, nodding. “Every person needs a girlfriend like you, Hedwig. Someone that really stands up for them. Young love really is wonderful. Alright, I’ll do it for you. I just need to know who they are.”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll send the names and pictures as soon as I get them.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll get going now.”

Hedwig nods. He leaves the room and she lies down beside you, hugging you close. When you wake up again, she questions you about the people who hurt you and has you point them out in the school catalogue. She memorizes the names and secretly sends them to the hitman along with their pictures. 

That evening when you’ve fallen asleep, Hedwig gets out of bed and walks through the entire house to get to her parents bedroom. Mom is in the shower and dad is in bed, reading through his email. 

“Dad”, she says. “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it, princess?” dad asks without looking up from his computer. 

“I want you to put me and Y/N into that private school my friends go to. I’m sick of people treating Y/N like dirt. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you think it’d be different at a private school?” Dad raises an eyebrow and looks at her. “Y/N is neither rich nor famous, you don’t think that will create them into a target at a place like that?”

“Me and my friends would take care of them.”

“Do you really think that’s what Y/N wants? They will feel out of place and it’ll probably only worsen the situation you’re in.”

Hedwig scoffs. “I can’t let them stay in that horrible, horrible school! Why are you making me go to a public school in the first place? People are awful to each other!”

“Because that’s how people are, sweetpea. I wanted you to face how normal people have it before you go out into the real world. I won’t let you — or Y/N — transfer to a private school. It’s your last year, you’re graduating soon. Changing schools now will only be annoying for both you and the teachers. If you want, I could talk to the school about whatever’s happened-”

“No. I’ve already taken care of it.”

“Well then there’s no problem! I don’t understand why we’re arguing. Go to sleep now, Hedwig.”

Hedwig sighs and turns around to walk back to your room. She’s comforting herself with the thought of your so called bullies getting what they deserve … even if you and Hedwig won’t get what you deserve. She crawls back under the covers with you, hugging you close. She imagines the bullies houses’ burning, them being trapped inside with all the smoke, having nowhere to go. Hedwig smiles and closes her eyes. 

When Monday comes around, you’re hesitant to go to school. Hedwig holds your hand as you walk through the gates. 

“Hedwig, I don’t feel well”, you say and stop in your tracks. “I think I’m sick.”

“I wish we could stay at home, my dear”, Hedwig sighs. “But we’re already in trouble for ditching school last friday. We have to go now. Too much absence means that we won’t graduate, remember?”

You look down at your feet.

“Y/N, I can assure you that the people who hurt you won’t be here”, she says comfortingly. “I’m positive.”

“How?” you question. 

Because she got a picture of their corpses. 

“Because I took care of it!” she smiles happily and takes a better grip on your hand. “Come here!”

You manage to get a glimpse of the flagpole. The flag hangs halfway up. You glance at Hedwig and her happy skipping … and wonder. Is her bright positivity linked with the halfway hanged flag?

[leclsrc]

for ur 3k i just want to see an omitted scene from its never over pleaseeeee <3333

i need more childhood friends to lovers w charles 🥺🥺 angsty fluffy childhood friends for the 3k please 😩😋

say it all – cl16

You bid farewell to a myriad of memories, rolled into the most memorable summer of your teenage life. (was originally part of this, can stand alone just fine)

auds here... features snoopy and childhood friend!charles again :)

You run the stretch of sand to the dock from the villa, a downhill sprint that requires stamina and laughter and constantly ends with you crashing into Charles, legs wrapping around his waist as you both flop with a thud onto the sand. It happens again now, his hands wrapped around your waist, your dress tickling the top of your thighs as you fall and laugh.

You get up on your elbows, watching him sweep sand out of his eyes. “Did you close the villa window?” Both your parents are still at dinner, so you’re both in charge of making sure nobody gets burgled or whatever.

“Yeah.” He pauses, smiling up at you, his eyes light and so green. “But it doesn’t close all the way.”

You hum in agreement. “The wind always gets in.”

Your tolerance is so bad you’re loopy from one drink, and it’d been cut with juice, even. Your hair’s littered with fine sand when you get up, hauling Charles with you as you make the slow walk to the dock for the last time. Ever since he told you he’d be in Spain for karting next year, you’d anticipated the grief over your summers in Villefranche, knowing that in time, they’d grow more and more intermittent, happening less and less—

Before you know it, you’re weeping with it. You’ll miss it. You’ll miss all of it. All of him. All of Charles. There’s always been a window for you two, something there, something unnamed. But next summer it won’t be there, and that’s what you grieve.

“We can always come back,” he says, nudging your foot with his, both half-submerged in the cold dusk water. You laugh, wiping tears away messily, leaning on his shoulder. It’s grown more sturdy with how often he’s driving, no longer lanky and “noodle-y”, as you’d joked once. It’s safe, secure. But then again, you think—it’s always been.

“I know we can,” you sniffle, staring at the blue below. Of course you can. One day you’ll be old enough to drive yourselves up to the villa, old enough to be trusted with the keys (never you), or the parking (never Charles), old enough to join the clubs with IDs that aren’t doctored. By then you might find the dress you’re wearing tacky, and Charles might be a Red Bull driver already. 

But the summers before and the summers to follow won’t be this summer. They will never be this summer. The summer of sandy toes and being old enough to have an aperol with a smidge of alcohol, the summer of beach-crunched hair, hot sun and cool evenings where you’re satiated by pasta.

The same summer you found drunk Charles is sleepy Charles, an epiphany that arrived when you saw his tanned skin against the white of your duvet, eyes fluttered closed. He wouldn’t budge if you or Hervé tried pulling him off, but he moved enough to let you sleep beside him.

The summer you tried getting him to stop calling you Snoopy, because it was too childish for you, but he’d say goodnight Snoopy before bed every night without fail. The summer you dove off a cliff a few hours away and watched as Charles chickened out from below. The summer of your first cigarette, ashes flicked into the bushes by the villa at two-thirty in the morning. The summer that started with your first heartbreak. The summer that ends with another.

Gingerly, you lace your hand in his. It’s normal, but in your head it means something else. You play out the fantasy that he’s yours, if just for a minute. This will always be the summer you spent being seventeen and feeling old enough to be loving your best friend, but young enough that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

“Any plans for the fall?” You ask, shutting the window.

“I’ll drop you off at uni,” he says. It doesn’t close all the way.

[writingfool001]

Magic Hidden

Author’s Note: Hi, I'm not dead, just busy with school.

Request: Yes by @nowayimdie

 May I ask What the reaction of the boys is when Newt!MC say that Magic is not accepted in their world? 

Pairing:  Jade & Malleus x gn reader (can either be seen as platonic or romantic)

Warning: You/your pronouns, gn reader, Newt!MC is inspired by Newt Scamander, can either be seen as platonic or romantic, 

Jade 

He has occasionally asked about your world and life, wanting to hear about a distant land that he couldn't possibly visit. He has heard of your adventures and family as well as you're schooling. Today, he asked if it is like Twisted Wonderland where nonmagical users and magicians existed together.  

He was a bit surprised to hear that magic wasn't accepted in your world like it was here. This only fueled him to know more about your world. 

He listened closely as you explained that if you both were back in your world, you would have to hide your magical abilities from muggles and if they were exposed to magic, you'd usually have to wipe their memory of the incident. He would have to hide his merfolk appearance when in the water. 

You also mention how there were wizards whose parents are either both muggles and just one parent is. It depended on where you were if a wizard wanted to marry a muggle. Then the muggles would have to make sure to keep the wizarding world a secret. 

He asked would he have to hide his ability from you as well, you revealed that the relationship between merfolk and wizard kind were unstable since there were wizards who looked down on merfolk since they weren't classified as humans.  

When asking how you felt about it, he was touched, when you told him that you hold any hatred towards merfolk, before telling you that your compassion could get you killed one day.  

"Jade, you wouldn't be the first friend to nearly kill me." 

Malleus 

As curious as Jade, Malleus would absorb everything you told him, considering you were basically his first friend, and listen admittingly as you would tell him about magical creatures. You both were taking a nightly walk when he asked about magic in your world. He was shocked by you telling him how it wasn't fully accepted and having to hide it with a few exceptions. He asked how it would be for you both if you were back in your world before listening to you telling him that you both would be fine, just needing to hide magic from muggles or non-magic users.  

He commented that it would be difficult for him to go out and about in the muggle world due to his horns and was interested in telling him about human transfiguration, something he could be trained in though there was a history of people getting stuck in their transfigured forms, or a poly juice potion, a potion that could give him another person's appearance for a sometime and needing couple strands of hair. He was almost entertained by the thought of changing his appearance, perhaps he may use it on a day for you both to go out in public without people avoiding him. 

He also asked about the marriage between a magic user and a muggle as well as how it would work. You told him what you knew and the fact that there were magic users who looked down upon muggles before explaining further when Malleus asked. 

"They care mainly about their blood status and usually marry people with pureblood status so their family lineage as they've said "keeps the magic strong." 

"So, they're like royals?" He questioned. 

"Essentially, that’s what they see themselves as, some are well known families while others are like regular families." 

The more and more you told him about your world, the more he was interested in it. Perhaps he could find a way to visit your world. 

[caesariawritesstuff]

Cat & Mouse - Chapter 26 Snippet

Chapter 26 of Cat & Mouse is officially uploaded! You can read it here or enjoy this snippet below!

Sleep was a comfort. A gentle warmth wrapping you in its embrace of peace and calmness, of letting you drift into a world where nothing was wrong, and everything felt so right. You dreamt of nothing but an oily blackness, shadows creeping at the edge of your mind, threatening to claw their way in and make themselves known. But you didn’t stir, didn’t fight it, didn’t think about anything but the dreamless, comforting sleep that you were under.

At least, until you opened your eyes.

A sharp, immediate pain throbbed right across your forehead, and you grimaced. The effort it took to peel your eyes open was like pulling teeth. A heavy feeling settled over you, like you were being suffocated with a weighted blanket. Every limb and muscle and bone ached, as though you’d been hit by a truck – but, well, there was a little bit of truth to that, considering you had been in an accident just a day ago. But this was a different kind of “hit by a truck” feeling, the kind where every movements takes a thousand times more effort and feels like someone is pounding a jackhammer against your skull.

Holy. Shit. When was the last time you were this hungover?

Groaning, you lifted yourself up slightly. Drool coated all over your pillow and you frowned, wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand. Every inch of your skin radiated with a horrible ache, and you exhaled a heavy breath as you rolled over onto your back. Sweat clung to your body, the stench of alcohol invading your nose. You blinked, trying to clear the grogginess from your vision.

What the hell happened? It’s the only thought you can manage, because any other thought hurts way too damn much. Your memories of last night were distorted and fuzzy, as if you were gazing down into a whirlpool of colors and sounds. Your mouth tasted of sour vomit, your tongue heavy and sore, throat achy. Well, every single part of your body was aching, a heaviness filling your limbs as though your veins were filled with sand. You rubbed at your eyes, before finally managing to sit up with a groan, even though it took so much effort you almost collapsed back onto the bed in exhaustion. Your gaze shifted to the nightstand on the left – but you blinked, seeing a tall glass of orange juice and two ibuprofen sitting there. Who left it for you? Angela hadn’t come back, had she? No, that wasn’t it. Angela left last night. So who brought you home? How did you get into bed? A dozen questions crept through your mind, but the more you thought about them, the worse the pounding in your head became. Well, whatever the case, you needed to get rid of this splitting headache. Quickly, you downed the juice, relishing in the taste and coolness against your raw throat. Your stomach twisted in sour knots, but you forced yourself to drink every last drop, slowly letting your stomach settle, taking the pills along with the final gulp. When you finished, you set the glass aside and rubbed the heels of your palms against your eyes.

Shit, you were a fucking mess.

Sucking in a breath, you stumbled out of bed, grasping onto the bedside to help you to your feet. There was a sharp, stabbing pain biting into the side of your forehead, as if someone was pinching a nerve with their bare hands. Slowly, you walked through your room, finding the door open just a crack. A dozen questions echoed through your brain; how did you make it home? How did you even get into bed? Groaning, you pulled the door open further and stepped out into the hall, but there was a quiet stillness clinging to the air. As you ventured out, you pressed a hand to your forehead, fighting against the ache spreading through every bone and vein and muscle. Using the wall for leverage with your other hand, you wandered down the hall, coming into the living room – but you paused when you saw the sight before you: Edward Nigma, in front of your bookshelf, which was now empty, all of your books stacked up around him as if he’d built a fort around himself. You blinked, trying to clear your hazy vision, as you struggled to process just what you were seeing.

“Edward…?” you asked, your voice shaky and broken.

He perked up, glancing over his shoulder, and a sly smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Ah, detective. You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like death,” you muttered, clutching your stomach as it twisted in knots. A sour taste lingered in your mouth, and you wandered a little further, bracing yourself against the couch.

“I can imagine. You had quite the night,” he said. His blue eyes roved over you carefully, but he straightened his shoulders back and fully turned to you. He was still wearing his green suit pants, though his jacket was off, leaving him in nothing but a button down and vest, the sleeves rolled up. His tie hung loose around his neck in a lazy fashion. Had he stayed here all night? It certainly looked like it.

For a moment, you stood there, watching him, wondering just what the hell he was even doing in your apartment and how he got inside. But the pain continuing to throb across your forehead and pound between your eyes, and the nauseous knots in your stomach, were too much to handle. You walked around to the other side of the couch and flopped down, squeezing your eyes shut. A horrible ache pulsed at your temples, and your corneas stung as if someone had thrown salt into them. Every inch of your body hurt – though you weren’t sure if it was from the accident or last night. Probably both. You struggled to think back to the last night, but your thoughts were distorted and dream-like, a blur, as if looking into a messy, abstract oil painting. What even happened? It had been years since you were this hungover, and your body was surely punishing you for it now. So much for thinking you could handle your liquor.

Finally, you peeked one eye open, but the sunlight streaming in from the blinds immediately made you shut them again, though you managed to steal a glance at all of the books currently occupying your living room floor.

“What are you doing?” you managed to ask.

“I’ve taken it upon myself to reorganize your bookshelf,” his said, his tone arrogant and self-satisfied. “I had to occupy myself somehow, and this shelf of yours called to me. I can’t believe you kept your books in such a disorganized state.”

Another wave of nausea rolled over you, and you covered your eyes with your hand, rubbing at your brows in an attempt to ease your pain. “I happen to like the way my bookshelf was organized,” you mumbled.

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his throat. “Do not worry, detective. I shall put your books back in an organized fashion and you shall thank me for it.”

You groaned again; you didn’t have the energy to argue with him, and you couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop touching your stuff, but right now, you didn’t care much, either. Not while you were too busy trying to sort through your memories of last night, to discover where they began or ended, or what even happened. Everything in your mind was distorted and disoriented. Your insides twisted in knots, your skull being split in two. A foot away, the gentle rhythm of Edward’s shuffling as books brushed against one another filled the quiet space, but even that was enough to make your head throb harder.

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Controversial take but I think the writers mistepped with Andre, they had a perfect set up. The loser nepo baby and the literal Golden Boy, then it went downhill from there. Let me revise their story. The former pines for the latter but Luke's a Homelander in the making and loving someone means you don't disrupt their dreams so Andre finds comfort in Cate, she's as close to Luke as he'll ever get but he also loves her too, because bisexuals are nothing if not chaotic, its in their nature. Luke's under so much pressure he could turn into a diamond at any moment, there's no time to realise he loves Andre romantically when everything in his life needs to be picture perfect, but he does. Luke, Andre and Cate are a close trio but Cate does find more freedom in hooking up with Andre, because she's not constantly wiping his memories and lying to him, he's just easier to love but that doesn't mean she doesn't love Luke.

Yeah I just think it was a wasted opportunity just making Andre a trifling cunt, like where's the juice? the seasoning? the flavour? its bland, I can't taste anything.

[adore-laur]

SUMMERBOY

— a summery southpaw flashback🍦

——

JUNE, 1987

Cocoa Beach was where Harry first laid eyes on the prettiest girl he had ever seen. 

On a sunny day by the ocean, he admired her through the flimsy mesh of the volleyball net during a recreational game of girls versus boys. Her painted toenails stood before the serving line that had been drawn by gliding a piece of driftwood through the scorching sand. She wore a clementine-colored bikini while her golden hair fell over the straps in majestic waves. She was so ethereal, with the sun shining down on her and accentuating the natural beauty she lavishly possessed. 

She managed an effortless topspin serve, the smack of her palm against the leather ball in perfect time with the start of a song about emotions in motion coming from a nearby boombox. 

As for Harry, his emotions were thoroughly in motion. 

A dollface like hers was rare. With tan, satiny skin, dark brown eyes, and plump lips of absolute perfection, her features caused his stomach to erupt with summertime butterflies. Thankfully, the sunglasses he had on hid his blatant ogling. He didn't even know her name or where she was from, but he had a strangely intense feeling that told him he was meant to find out. 

Thwack! 

Without warning, the volleyball hit Harry square in the forehead. His sunglasses flew off as his ass fell backward onto the sand. His vision blackened around the edges while his brain experienced a high-magnitude earthquake. 

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" 

His ears rang, yet he could barely make out a soft voice laced with concern. Some of his friends crowded around him, yet one person nudged their way through, like how the sun gloriously peeked past the clouds that morning. 

Oh, it was the girl he'd been admiring. How terribly embarrassing. 

"Y-yeah," Harry stuttered. He rubbed his pounding temples and blinked fast to clear his blurry sight. "All good. You have a powerful serve." 

Doe-like eyes stared at him apprehensively. "Do you feel dizzy? Should I call an ambulance? Is the sun too bright for you?"

"No," he replied, laughing. "I'm sure I'll just have a bruise. No need to worry." 

She crouched and moved her dainty pointer finger back and forth in front of his face. He followed it, mesmerized. After repeating the motion a few times, she said, "Okay, your eyes seem to be focused." 

He bit back a smirk. "I'm glad they are." 

"What's your name?" she asked, ignoring his charm.

"Harry Styles." He gave her his best dimpled smile. "What's yours?" 

Gently touching the bump forming on his forehead, she continued, "And how old are you?" 

"Nineteen." He would have been lying if he had said his skin wasn't on fire, with heat blooming everywhere. "What's your name?" he repeated.

She pursed her pretty lips in thought. "What day is it today?" 

Harry quickly realized she wasn't trying to get to know him—she was conducting a memory loss test. "Uh... Sunday," he answered defeatedly, his ego deflating a little. A lot, actually. 

"Well done." She dusted off her sandy legs and stood up. "I don't think you have a concussion. Just some slight swelling." 

"Thank you, nurse." 

She narrowed her eyes and sassily put a hand on her hip. "However, you need to stay hydrated. Here, let me grab my orange juice." 

"Your orange—" His dream girl was off and running under the volleyball net before he could speak any further. Wiping sweat from his hairline, Harry waited patiently while grooving along to the rock music playing from a group of teenagers' boombox farther down the beach strip.

When she returned, his body delightfully shuddered at how her skin seemed to glow under the summer sky. Thrusting forward a clear bottle of orange juice, she said, "My name is Sawyer Clemente, by the way." 

Sawyer. Such a unique name for someone who felt so familiar to him. He wouldn't have minded if those two syllables rolled off his tongue for eternity. 

"Thank you, Sawyer," he chirped, taking the ice-cold bottle from her. He held it up to his parched mouth, but right before he took a swig, he asked, "Pulp or no pulp?" 

"No pulp," she said, tapping her acrylic nails against her arm. "I'm not a psychopath." 

His head lulled back as he smiled lazily. "Whoa, am I hallucinating? I think you're perfect for me." 

She snorted, unimpressed, yet a pink flush colored her cheeks. "Are you seriously flirting with me?" 

"Dunno. Do you want me to be?”

"Not really. I have a boyfriend." 

Harry swore under his breath. "Is he nice to you?" 

"Yes, he is." Sawyer glanced around and furrowed her eyebrows when she spotted her friends abandoning the game and congregating near the water. "Well, I'm going to get ice cream now. I’m truly sorry about hitting your head." 

He should have been thanking her since he didn't know if he would have been able to find the courage to talk to her otherwise. Typically, he could walk up to anyone and strike up a conversation, but something about her made him the good kind of anxious.

"Are you up for a game of 1v1 volleyball?" Harry asked abruptly, hoping he could suggest a way to spend more time with her without sounding like a desperate loser. 

"No, thank you," she said politely. "Boys play unfairly. Plus, it's hot out, and I need something to cool me down." 

She was off again, like some unreachable enigma he couldn't quite grasp. Her steps were delicate, and her wavy hair bounced with each one. Harry forgot where he was for a second while getting lost in her movements. She was captivatingly magnetic, and it would be a downright shame if he never saw her again.

Blinking out of his trance, he watched her head over to an unoccupied beach umbrella close to the shore with a melting ice cream cone in her hand. Would it be annoying if he walked over there? Possibly. Was he going to do it anyway? Absolutely. 

Harry got up, taking a few seconds to restore his balance, then jogged over while rubbing his forehead to ensure there wasn't a huge bump. That would have been the pinnacle of embarrassment. 

Once he was next to Sawyer, she looked at him unamusedly. "This better be worth it, summerboy." 

He was the one blushing now. "Hello. Hi. Vanilla, right?" 

"It's Sawyer."

Harry swallowed, internally panicking, and scratched the back of his neck. "I meant your ice cream flavor." 

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. How were they able to do that when they were so dark? "Yeah, I know," she said casually. "I was just joking." 

"Oh. Oh, my bad." 

Scrunching her nose, she giggled quietly. "You're funny. I've never met a boy like you." 

"What's a boy like me?" he asked.

"Someone I could be friends with. You backed off when I said I had a boyfriend. That was nice of you." Sawyer licked her ice cream and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's rare for Florida boys to take the hint."

"You'd want to be friends with me?" 

"If you want," she mumbled around a bite of her wafer cone. 

"'Kay. Sick." Harry nudged her elbow with his own. "Let's be friends." 

"Are you in the mood for a friendly game of chicken fight in the water?" 

"Duh. If I win, though, you have to go out to eat with me. Friends need to get to know each other, don't they?"

Sawyer smiled and threw her hair in a ponytail. "Deal." 

——

[smallraindrops-blog]

The Eros of May

WMFTD!Y/N x Hypnos

Wordcount: 200

Summary: Told in snapshots. There is a beautiful man with sleepy golden eyes, warm skin kissed by the sun and the lingering days of spring.

Warnings: no beta

notes: a writing challenge for myself, I took two different challenges and mashed them together. Credit to this post and this post and their creator for making these challenges.

This is partly done to keep myself writing a little bit everyday since I find writing a little will make me write more. This will be a daily post.

Strawberries

His lips were stained red, the tender flesh marked like a lover had claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. The Mediterranean Sea gleamed like sapphires behind Hypnos, his curls dancing in the breeze.

Pa used to take you to all kinds of art museums, telling you it was good for the soul to look at fine art. Most of it was mind numbing but you had like the romanticism - or was it the post-Impressionism-, the ones where it felt like you were staring into a hazy memory. 

It was like that now, the basket of strawberries between you and him, half-open bottle of some fancy vintage wine, and the salty air. And there was Hypnos, beautiful as sin and untouchable as the sunlight.

Then Hypnos faced you as he tucked a stray curl away and smiled at you, unaware of the danger he was courting. His sun-like eyes caught yours, and you swallowed.

“See?” He said with a wink, “I told you I know all the good spots.” 

“It is beautiful.” You managed to say back, voice low and husky. You didn’t know if you were speaking about the spot or Hypnos. Both maybe. 

Hypnos picked up another strawberry between stained fingers and took a bite with a pleased hum. A trail of juice spilled from his mouth, pale and red. 

Before you could stop yourself, your thumb stopped the trail and you moved it up to wipe the rest of it away, lingering too long on the corner of his mouth. 

Blushing, you pulled away and cleared your throat. “Sorry.” You muttered, grabbing your own strawberry in embarrassment.

You didn’t see the pleased, feline gleam in those golden eyes.

[ravennaortiz]

Lost and Found Chapter 4

This is a twisting tale of love, family and loyalty told through present tense and flashbacks.

Trigger Warnings: General themes of the show( death, violence, drinking etc), Minors DNI, implied sexual assault in later chapters.

Jax sat on his dads bike thinking over his life and those he loved. He had hurt so many people and he hoped that he had given Chibs enough time to fix one of his mistakes. The look on Chibs face when he had told him that he had green lit Juice without permission haunted him the same way the image of his sister with a gun to her head did.  He hated himself for having pushed Scar so far. Of all people Scar deserved happiness and love and all he had done was tear her world apart. For what? To prove his leadership, to make a point? He hated himself for what he had done. He had been up all night making arrangements to fix his mistakes, writing a letter to each member and getting his wills in order. Jax took a deep breath before beginning his final journey knowing his demons would follow him forever but at least they couldn’t hurt those he loved anymore.

"You’re not going to tell your sister bye?" growled Chibs as he stormed into the ice cream shop where Jax was saying his goodbyes to the rest of the club.

"This will be better for her Chibs" replied Jax as he turned his eyes onto his mentor and friend. "Once it’s been confirmed I need you to be the one to tell her. I also need you to go to Stockton and meet with Tully." continued Jax as he pulled his friend to him and hugged him.

"Why?" replied Chibs with confusion as he pulled back to look in the younger man’s eyes.

"I made a mistake and I need you to fix it before it’s too late" replied Jax as he closed his eyes.

Chibs hoped he wasn’t too late as he pulled into the parking lot at Stockton, the conversation him and Jax had still ringing in his ears. He had no idea how he would explain to Scarlett both her brother and Old man were gone from this world at the same time. Would he be willing to stop her next attempt at leaving this world? Chibs shook his head to clear the what ifs, there was no sense getting lost down that rabbit hole yet.He glanced at his watch and quickly made his way into the prison as the sun began to set.

2 Days Later

Scarlett wiped at her red, swollen and painful eyes as more tears cascaded down her face. She was amazed at how more tears just kept coming. Every time she turned around a new memory hit her like a train. Her hands shook as she knelt next to the open gravesite and dropped another black rose onto the casket. She should be used to this level of pain at this point, it came with the life, but for her it never got easier. “I’m sorry. I love you and will miss you forever” she murmured as she stood up brushing the dirt off the hem of her dress before blowing a kiss down to the casket. The showing and funeral had been a simple and private affair which helped some as Scarlett didn’t think she would be able to handle the type of small talk that funerals brought on especially when it was for someone so young. As she turned to walk away her eyes fell on the club members who out of respect for her let her have her time first. “Thank you guys for everything. I know the last few months have been difficult and I haven’t always been the nicest, but I appreciate you all and your friendship.” Stated Scarlett as each man hugged her in turn before she made her way slowly to the bikes.

“Rest easy brother. I still stand by that promise I made you when her and I started dating, I will always protect and love her no matter what. She’s the best thing about me if were being honest. Thank you for finding me when I was lost because if you hadn’t id have never found my peace” stated Juice as he looked back at Scarlett at the end before tossing a rose down as well.

This is the end of this story but not the end of Scarlett and Juice.

Return to Chapter List

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Cabin in the woods snippet

I finished one of the many different endings last night so in honor of that here’s a drunk!Spider snippet with zero context.

*********************************************************************

  “M.J!” That was Aniyah’s voice. He clumsily turned towards it, seeing through blurry eyes his friend running towards him. “What the fuck are you doing!”

   “Aniyah!” He was so excited to see her. He’d lost sight of her forever ago. “Where have you been?”

    Now that she was up close he could see there her makeup was smudged. “I was making out with Katie Ludson while I sobered up! I left you watching Madigasare 2 in the living room! I figured you’d just stay there but according to everyone I talked to trying to find your ass, you’ve had a very eventful night!” 

   Miles had no idea what she was talking about. “Am I in trouble?”

   Aniyah sighed, completely done, “no you moron, you're drunk!”

   “I’m drunk!? How did I get drunk!”

   “Oh my god!” Aniyah looked up at the sky like she was praying for strength. “From drinking! You’ve been drinking alcohol all night.”

    “No I haven’t.” Miles didn’t even know there was alcohol at this party. It hadn’t seemed like anyone had been drinking to him.

    “Ah yeah dude you totally have,” said John Jason Jacob Jack. “You jumped out of the hay loft in my barn.”

    “You swung through the trees like you were Tarzan.”

    “You did a flip over the bonfire.”

     “You jumped off the roof into the pool.” Now that the random person in the crowd mentioned it Miles realized that his clothes were damp. Vague memories of the exploits reported to him popped into his mind but they were quickly wiped away as his brain struggled to function.

    “ ‘hat tim iz it.” Miles asked the crowd.

   “12:47” 

    “Oh shit!” Without an explanation to anyone he ran off, Aniyah yelling for him to come back. He took out his phone, the bright light assaulting his eyes. Twenty missed calls. A line of texts saying, you're late. Where are you? Get your ass home right now. Are you okay, are you hurt? Answer me damn it! I’m coming to get you. Miles fumbled to dial his father. The man picked up before the first ring even finished. “Papa!”

    “Miles!” From the angry tone Miles could picture his Pa red faced, jaw clenched, veins popping out on his temples. “What the hell is wrong with you! I told you twelve o’clock sharp!”

    “The’y tol’ me it wa’ juic’!”

    “What?”

    “The’y tol me it wa’ juic’ Pa! I didn’ know there wa’ alcoho’ in’t.”

     “Aw Jesus Miles. You're drunk!”

      “I didn’ mean ta be!” Miles was near tears.

      Pa sighed, “Calm down baby boy, it’ll all be okay. Papa’s almost there. Just hang tight.”

[bionicle-ramblings]

I've been thinking about a post I made a little while back, specifically the one where, theoretically, Teridax took over the body of Mata Nui and exacted his revenge on Vakama by killing him over and over all over again, essentially making his own time loop to trap Vakama in, one Teridax has full control of; he'd have Vakama be a Toa so he doesn't die or break easily, and the transformation probably hurts a lot

I thought about something else: what else would he do? The Toa Haga already get taken out of commission almost as soon as Teridax takes over, and I'm pretty sure something happens to the Toa Nuva and Mahri in canon, but I'm not 100% sure, but imagine if Teridax saw everyone realize what's happened to Vakama and why and decides to twist the knife further for all of them; he's essentially God now, so what's stopping him?

For instance, the Toa Mahri and Takanuva are forced to remember Metru Nui, that they had whole lives before Mata Nui and don't remember because of the sleeping containers. Teridax mocks them when they say they were forced to their slumber and he tricked them, thought Takanuva gets a heavier dose of "remember juice" because he also remembers further back, that he was an Av-Matoran that went into hiding and had his memory wiped

With the Toa Metru back, they get some surprises as well:

Nuju has been speaking in a way no one else can really understand, so it's only fair that he get to experience what that feels like, so he is left unable to understand what anyone is saying to him regardless of what language they speak to him with

Nokama, the teacher and most knowledgeable of her team, with her translation power, has not only her speech taken from her, but also loses the ability to read anything she sees; her speech will prevent her feom properly communicating with anyone about anything

Whenua, who has the ability to read and knows damn near everything because he's an archivist, is challenged to FIND anything because Teridax takes his ability to see anything

Onewa, strong-willed and brash, Teridax has a surprise for: driving him batshit insane until Onewa's left staring at nothing and simply being dead weight

Matau, who was someone who helped Vakama overcome his fears and the horkida venom, gets the honor of seeing and experiencing what happens to his brother and leader, getting a clear first-person POV shot of whatever happens to Vakama, so if Vakama is being burned alive, Matau will see and feel it

And does Vakama know about it all? Maybe. Solid maybe because as good as it would be to have him feel guilty for the damage of so many people he cares about, he won't exactly be able to focus on it because he's busy dying repeatedly

Bit of an upside, though:

Takanuva, using the vents, saves Vakama once more and the two slip away; the Great Spirit robot is essentially a giant Bionicle body, and most are aware of what goes on in their body, but they can miss stuff in the inner workings like veins, or vents

It's a half-baked idea, but they manage to get away, barely, and regroup with the others, where Vakama sees what's become of his team and the Toa Mahri

I will make a follow-up post to this one day, but I'm going to stop here before I make this too long