#☆Kari's writing

[karishrtstlen]

🕊 I’ll crawl home to her.

Obamitsu // Obanai and Mitsuri remember important moments before their wedding

Inspired by Hard Work-Hozier

Mitsuri paced around her bedroom with sweaty palms and eyes filled with tears out of pure stress. One day from now would be her big day and she couldn’t believe she was marrying someone as perfect as him. Someone like him. Someone like Obanai. Shinobu had come over to calm her down as well as Shinobus sisters, Kanae Kanao and Aoi, as of now there were no results.

“Oh god Shinobu he’s just so. Amazing why would he even consider marrying me?” She asked her friend who sighed and rubbed her temple

“Why wouldn’t he? That man’s completely smitten over you. Don’t you remember how he asked you out?” Shinobu reminded her

and how could she forget?

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Summer of their senior year in highschool. This was their last summer before they would have to mature.

Shinobu had suggested that their entire friend group take a small trip to the mountains, Where Giyuu’s adoptive father lived, To relax and so they did. They spent the entire summer there.

Mitsuri remembers two weeks before they left quite well.

“Lyubov” Obanai called out for her. She wasn’t sure where he got the nickname from, all she knew was that he had called her that ever since their trip to Ukraine Sophmore year.

“Whats wrong Oba?” She asked quietly, it was nighttime and she wasn’t supposed to be awake but of course Obanai knew she would be awake.

She forgot to bring her favorite bunny plush she can’t sleep without it.

“Can you come with me please i have a surprise” He said quietly knowing she was tired and hadn’t rested properly. A tired Mitsuri made her a little bit more anxious than usual, But not with Obanai. Obanai felt like home to her and she would never give that up. She took his hand.

Her bigger softer hands from baking into his smaller calloused hands from writing so much. Mitsuri has always thought their hands, though opposites, fit each other like puzzle pieces that were missing. She thought their mere beings were meant to find each other.

Like how though she’s taller and a lot stronger everything about her screamed feminine no matter how many people tried to make her seem masculine for her build

And Obanai was the opposite that completed her.

He, unlike many of the boys she’s liked, had never objectified her, sexualized her body and its proportions, never tried to make her seem masculine for her strength, and never not ONCE judged her for how she decided to eat.

He led her outside into the forest secretly praying she would trust him just a little longer he could feel in his heart that she was getting scared. Two hours passed before Obanai asked her gently to close her eyes while turning off their flashlight. Underneath her palms she could see a glow as Obanai held her arm and led her deeper into the forest.

“Open them now, Lyubov” He said gently letting go of her as if she’ll break if he did way too fast.

When she opened her eyes she was met with a sight so magical she could barely breathe. An entire grove of Wisteria trees with fairy lights covering them and polaroids hanging on the lines their friends standing on the side of a projection screen playing videos of her and Obanai from the day they met to now. In her shock she failed to notice Rengoku giving Obanai something and patting his shoulder with a stern look before going back to his spot next to Tengen.

“Do you know why I call you Lyubov Mitsu” He asked

she shook her head and he smiled.

“When we took our trip to Ukraine you mentioned how beautiful you thought the language was and how much you loved it. So for you i learned it. That way you could hear the beauty of a language you love even if you don’t know it. In Ukrainian Lyubov… Lyubov means Love” He took a deep breath looking at Mitsuri who had tears falling already. “Back during the Taishō period there were these fierce swordsmen and women who fought against something no one knows yet but its said to be beasts so fierce coming back with just a busted eardrum and broken ribs was considered a miracle” He laughed a bit looking down

“What i found interesting was that there were two whose looks are described similarly to us, they loved each other yet made no move to confess a push and pull out of fear. They died in each other’s arms confessing too late.”

Mitsuri looked into Obanai’s glassy eyes and felt butterflies erupt. “I don’t want to be like them Kanroji.” He said getting on one knee “So to you i want to say that you are my best friend. For the longest i believed that’s all you were but my heart said otherwise. If i have to die with you in my arms I want it yo be with you as my girlfriend and the promise of marriage sealed from the get go. Mitsuri Kanroji I want to make this promise to love you and soon marry you. I promise to work hard and make sure you never feel worthless because in my eyes you’re more than this world and this universe combined, to me Kanroji you are everything. The waves the moon the sun the flowers the planets the stars the galaxy everything. So please, Be my girlfriend and more than that my future wife” He finished by taking out a promise ring the diamond being in the shape of a heart with a snake going around it.

and how could she not say yes while sobbing and giving him small gentle kisses all over his face in fear if breaking him?

her precious boyfriend and future husband

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Tomorrow is the day Obanai would be marrying the woman he loves with his soul. Right now he was with Rengoku, Tengen, Giyuu, and Sanemi at the spa instead of a bachelors party.

“Out of everyone I would have expected Tengen to marry his girlfriends first” Sanemi said with a sly smile cucumbers covering his eyes. Tengen rolled his eyes and told him to shut up sinking further into the mud bath. Obanai smiled brightly at them careful not to mess up the stitches around his mouth.

“Marrying her is my biggest accomplishment in life she’s gonna be mine forever and i’ll love her forever till my last breath” he said calmly “Getting her fathers permission was a hassle i remember it so vividly just three months before i asked her to be mine”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Obanai took a deep shaky breath wiping the sweat off his palms onto his school uniform before knocking on the door only to be met with Mitsuri’s mother.

“Oh? well hello young man how can I help you” She said politely and Obanai smiled

“Hello Mrs. Kanroji. My name is Iguro Obanai i’m a friend of Mitsuri’s… I was wondering if I could speak with you and your husband on an important decision I want to make regarding your daughter” He said in a polite tone which shocked Mrs. Kanroji.

Many boys had come to ask for permission to date their daughter but non had been as polite as Obanai. She smiled warmly and invited him inside.

Mr. Kanroji wasn’t as warm as Mrs. Kanroji. He had seen many people promise to love his daughter only to hurt her. He’ll have to die before anyone ever hurts her again his precious baby girl. “What do you want with my daughter” He asked the minute they took a seat.

“I want her heart” Obanai replied sincerely.

“Many say that and many break it how do I believe you?” Mr. Kanroji replied sternly.

“Because I am not them. With all due respect sir I am not here for your daughter’s body nor her strength I am here to love her. To show her she is worth more than the universe and that her soul is pure till i take my last breath. With all due respect sir I am here to show her a love that can only be experienced once in a lifetime through every problem we have i want to love her. With all due respect sir I am her to show her the world and it’s beauty even if i have to risk my life for her I am here to do that. To love her in spite of every obstacle. Through heaven and hell i will love her. If I have to walk down to Hades and demand her soul back in replace of mine I will.” He said finishing with heavy breathing.

Mr. Kanroji gave him a proud smile and nodded.

“Keep my baby happy young man.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

It was that day and the nerves were everywhere. Obanai wore his hair in a manbun with a few loose strands that he managed to make look neat. His suit was all white with small diamonds on the collar to give the illusion that he’s sparkling in his suit. He wasn’t wearing his mask, for the first time people were seeing the outcome of his surgery. On his big day he will not hide his truth. He will not hide what he was a survivor of from the woman he loved. The woman who saved him from a terrible fate and brought him peace.

The music Mitsuri chose to walk to played, Work Song by Hozier, she walked through those castle like doors memories passed by Obanai.

Her holding him the day he told her what his family had done

Her smile when they adopted their first fur baby

Her eyes when he brought her roses just because

And her tears when he upheld his promise on marrying her.

Seeing her hair in a slick bun with a tiara on carrying a bouquet of pink and white roses her pure white dress with diamonds placed neatly on it giving her this magical look.

A true princess.

Her father handed her to Obanai and as soon as the weddding started they were lost in each other’s eyes.

Then finally the vows

“love is sweet, love is blind, but when I take this hand Ive seen all light. loyalty and happiness comes to one but one that's loyal and happy will be us as one. take this ring as I take your kindness into my soul. flowers too as you may throw to the next lovely beloved below. with my soul and heart I promise to you Obanai, to be the best version of love you have ever seen” Mitsuri said softly

Obanai took a deep breath.

“I didn’t write my vows down because I wanted to tell you my raw feelings and not something rehearsed. Mitsuri Kanroji I have loved you since the day you accidentally bumped into me at the entrance ceremony our freshmen year. You have shown me more love more care more respect than anyone and not only that but you have been my savior and my comfort. Mitsuri Kanroji I may not be perfect and i may not be who you were hoping to marry but I promise to show you im worth it. I’m worth your time energy and love i am worth you. You are my everything. To everyone in the audience I want you to know. When my time comes lay me gently in the cold dark earth but no grave can hold me. I will come back and love her all over again in every life I swear on my life” He finished looking at the tears rolling down Mitsuri’s face.

Tears of genuine happiness.

“Do you Iguro Obanai take Mitsuri Kanroji, to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do you part?”

“I do”

“Do you Mitsuri Kanroji take Iguro Obanai, to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do you part?”

“I do.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[bobafetts-princess]

What Were You Thinking?

Summary: After saving civilians on a mission, Logan is furious that you almost died. (You didn’t almost die) He reminds you that he needs you in the most Logan-esque way possible.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Logan gets rough. Hair pulling, ass slapping, biting, Logan doesn’t handle his woman getting hurt very well. Dirty talk. Scott is annoying. Logan goes soft after he finishes.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I edited this so it’s a little different from my ao3 version. I like this a little more tbh.

The mission was successful. Everyone made it out alive and with minimal scratches. Well, everyone except you. You’d thrown yourself on top of civilians, trying to shield them from harm. You were a bontanokinetic, the ability to control plants, but you also had advanced healing. So even though you sustained major injuries from the bomb that went off 20 feet from you, all the civilians were safe and you were almost healed. You’d covered the civilians with plants and tree roots but only had time to cover your upper body before the blast went off. You took some debris full force, leaving you with deep cuts. Most of the them were healed by now, only the deepest still scars.

You weren’t sure that the civilians safety mattered to your boyfriend, Logan, as much as it did to you though. He always had so much adrenaline after a mission. He usually dragged you to the back of the plane and fucked you senseless to work it off. He would fuck you double when he got ahold of you this time, his fear taking the forefront. He wanted to fuck you to make sure you were real. Make sure you were safe in his arms and stuffed with his cock. He did the same when he had nightmares about you hurt or killed. He usually woke you, cock nudging at you, until he was sure you were awake. He’d plunge inside, fucking you until he was sure it had been a dream. Just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Being buried deep inside you was the best way for Logan to bring himself back to reality. And boy, you’d fucked up this time. You were in for the most animalistic version of Logan there was.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked, hand soft on the inside of your elbow. You nodded at him, appreciative of the concern in his voice. They all knew what was to come and while they knew Logan would never hurt you, they always checked on you, to be sure you could handle him.

“LILLY.” You heard a deep voice shout your moniker and you turned towards it. Logan was striding towards you, lit cigar hanging out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, you were fine, no one dead, the big bad in custody. He didn’t speak again until he reached you, grasping you roughly by the arm.

“What were you thinking?” He snarled, animal inside him beginning to take over.

“I was thinking I was saving some civilian lives.” You responded dryly, annoyed at his reaction. This was your job. Saving people from evil. There was always a risk with it. He needed to get over it. He began tugging you towards the helicopter, all the other mutants clearing out of your way as he thundered along.

“You could have gotten yourself KILLED.” He growled, spinning so that you were chest to chest. Even in your irritation with him you still reveled in the feel of his hard body against your softer one. He looked down on you, hazel eyes hard but laced with concern.

“I’m fine Logan, I heal nearly as fast as you do. It’s a scratch now.” You assured him, placing your hands on his chest. You moved his hands to your tattered jumpsuit leg, showing him the pretty pink scar that would disappear within the hour. His fingers trailed the puckered flesh, still sensitive from healing.

“You could have DIED.” He reiterated. His mouth crashed to yours, cigar in his hand now. His other hand grabbed the back of your neck to anchor you in place. A fire started to burn in your body and you couldn’t wait to get back to the plane. To let Logan work his frustrations and fears out, using you. You decided not to argue this time, to let him take what he needed. “I’m not losing you.” He said, his voice softer, but still a low and threatening rumble throughout his chest.

“Hey good job Lil!” A voice shouted at you from across the wreckage. “You saved the day out there. The way you handled all that debris being thrown at you? Amazing. You almost died! It was an intense moment.” Scott laughed, clapping you on the shoulder even though you were still chest to chest with Logan. The motion knocked you into him and it broke the calm over the two of you. Logan hardened, features distorted with annoyance and anger. He shot Scott a glare, mouth curling into a snarl. Scott knew that you were a sensitive spot for Logan so he’d take any opportunity to dig at Logan. Scott had never gotten over Logan’s little crush on Jean, even after the two of you had gotten together. So when the opportunity to push Logan’s buttons arose, Scott would always take it.

It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t reaping any rewards, except for keeping Logan away from Jean. Which hadn’t been an issue in at least a year and if you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t entirely Logan’s fault in the first place. The feeling had been mutual between them but Scott had a tough time seeing it that way.

Logan hauled you over his shoulder, cigar back in his mouth as he stalked towards heli-carrier that housed the X-Men on their trip back from a mission.

“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” You asked and only got an angry grunt in return.

“Don’t you think nearly getting yourself killed is a little dramatic?” He snapped as he walked up the ramp.

When Logan got dominant like this, it brought out his animalistic side and you ended up covered in his marks. He found your room, a shared one, and shut and locked the door behind him.

He flopped you down on the small bed, releasing himself from his uniform quicker than usual. He always went commando so he was standing before you completely naked before you even had a chance to blink. You moved to get yours off but he beat you to it, tearing the uniform with his bare hands. Charles was not going to be happy about having to replace yours, again. Logan did the same with your bra and underwear and while you thought he was being a touch ridiculous, it was also hot.

You were in for it rough this time. He was high on adrenaline, pissed, and worried. He didn’t hardly take any time to prep you, but it didn’t matter. You were so wet at the manhandling that when he thrust two fingers in you it wasn’t enough, you needed more. He replaced his fingers with his cock giving you enough time to adjust so he wouldn’t hurt you. You could hear his heavy breathing from above you, his nostrils flaring as he exercised every inch of his control. When you were ready for him you told him so and he gave you a few sharp thrusts to make sure. Logan wasn’t a small man in that area, thick and long, so he had to make sure you were ready.

Once he decided you were he started a brutal and relentless pace that only Logan could keep up with for an extended period of time. Your body heated at his dominance, the way that he chased his own release without worrying about yours. But that’s because he knew you would come either way. Your hand traveled down your body, reaching for your clit to give yourself a little extra pleasure. Before you could, your hands were pushed away, stretched out above your body as Logan’s fingers circled around it instead. His body was warm against yours, his thrusts hard and unending. His thumb circled the nub, his teeth marking your breasts. The pressure he put on your clit was intense and you pushed closer and closer to orgasm. His grunts and groans were increasing in volume and he sounded like a wild man, a caged animal. Your body ached for your orgasm, you could almost taste it, so when he bent to bite on your nipple you lost it. Screaming and clenching around him, your hips met his thrust for thrust until it was over.

Once you came down, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach. He crawled up your body, entering you again this time, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking your head backwards. The arch in your back allowed him deep, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust. He bent to bite his way across your neck and shoulder, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Think again, little girl, before you try to sacrifice yourself when I’m around.” He grunted, smacking your ass to emphasize his point. His name was falling from your lips, punctuated only by your groans. His words were the only reminder about why he was fucking you like this. Even though you didn’t sacrifice yourself, it felt like it to him. Your hands were braced on the bed, but he grabbed them one by one, not releasing your hair. He pinned them behind your back and held them down. You were at his mercy, you were his toy. You didn’t have the strength to get him off of you but you didn’t want to. You loved when he pinned you. Made you helpless for him. This was your favorite way to get fucked by Logan, hard, rough, and fast. Your second orgasm was building, and when Logan bit down on your right shoulder you fluttered around him. His bites got rougher when he got closer and he usually broke skin when he came.


“Fuck. I’m gonna come in this sweet pussy.” He told you, teeth catching your ear and smelling your hair, his secret kink. He loved the way you smelled when you were turned on. His sense of smell was so strong that your sex pheromones always pushed him over the edge. You always knew he was close when he did this and you knew if you wanted to come a second time you’d have to work for it. But you were surprised when he let go of your hair and moved to focus on your clit instead. His circles the little bud, increasing his pressure with each pass. Before you knew it you were screaming your release, clamping down on his cock. It triggers his own orgasm and he roars, thrusting to the hilt and sinking his teeth in your shoulder hard enough to break skin. He empties himself into you, cock twitching in tune with your pussy pulsing.

“Fuck. That was fucking good.” He growled in your ear, rubbing his face against your hair to soak up your scent. He releases your arms, pulling you upright against him. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t want to lose you.” He admits. You nodded, your body aching from the marathon his body had put you through. He spun you, kissing you gently. “I love you.” He grunts, letting his softer side show. The two of you get dressed, stealing kisses and touches between layers of clothes. When you walk out to join the others, the bite marks Logan had left on you were only small scars, save the one that broke skin. It was red but healing, barely visible under your top.

Everyone eyes Logan warily, wondering if he’d worked out all his anger. He lays a hand softly on your hip, kissing your temple and you could feel the welcome sigh of relief from everyone else.

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, strapping you into your seat before he straps himself in. Charles nods at Scott and Storm and they start to take off.

[sonotkari]

Tiny Bits Of Love

Kim Minji x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

Your nonchalant looking seatmate was the last person you expected to get answers on what love was. Maybe they were more than sticky memo pads.

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.3k

[ a/n ]

Another random idea popped out at midnight + written in a short span of time + w/ rush + without a single thought in mind so heads up! Yes this isn't the one I spoiled heck I don't even know if that's gonna be published lmao Casually dropping this and dissapearing again /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

To lonely nights craving for love, dis for u bae <3

It is said that first impressions are made in the first three seconds of your interactions. "She looks scary" was yours the moment you laid eyes on your seatmate, Kim Minji. Not like the rest, laughing on whatever topic they were chit-chatting around, she was quietly sitting on her seat looking in front without a thought. She looked so nonchalant and you, who were usually― no, always surrounded by loud lively people, it wasn't helped when you felt unease, glancing at the girl with a straight expression on her face. She almost looks like that one emoji with a straight-lined mouth. And that may be your second impression of her. But as they say "Third time's a charm" or you weren't really sure whether that was the right phrase to imply but still, it felt something like that at your third impression of Minji which changed very differently from the previous ones. You were right all along at the fact that lively people always surrounded you and that thought became stronger at each smack you earned from her laughing her ass out beside you. Minji was far from nonchalant. She laughed at anything and everything whether it was that one crappy joke the History teacher made or those lame dad jokes one of your friends would yell out. Always smacked someone's shoulder while she was bursting out laughing with whatever she found funny. And if we're going straight to the point here, you fell in love with the girl.

You weren't getting at first why you felt so happy and giddy as well when she was, or why seeing her smile looking your way even if it wasn't her intention to make your heart pound like crazy but later on your friend was the one smacking the shit out of you laughing because apparently, you were dense. "Y/n, don't you get it? That's love… You're in love!!" and that was the moment everything sank in. Love. You've already heard that term a million times if not a billion times throughout your life. You've seen the movies, read the books, and been there on the sidelines when your friends fell in love with somebody and needed support. You had a few crushes back then but come to think of it, you just liked them because everybody else did, not knowing how the feelings worked. Nodding and responding with a hum every time the other girls would coo about these boys saying "He's so cool/handsome" every 5 seconds. But now thinking of Minji, it makes your heart pound and wonder why or how she makes you so happy with small things like linking your arms while walking down the hallway or sitting beside each other at classes you had with her. So this is love.

And now that it sank into you what love was, well not maybe entirely but at least you understood what it felt like to be in love, the next thing you know you were pouring it nonstop on Minji. Giving random gifts like cream puffs you bought because it reminded you of her or strawberry lattes which was her favorite drink of all time with a memo note stuck on it with short messages written like "Have a great day" or "I'll see you again later" which you could've just texted to her anyways but there was just something about taking your time to write them. The way Minji would rush at you with a smile while holding those memos thanking you every single time was definitely making you fall for her more. Her smile, her laugh, every single thing she does, you find it all cute adoring her every second, your eyes refusing to tear out from the sight of the girl. Minji's face was the one you'd instantly notice in a crowd, she was the one you'd always find for every short or long period break, and her existence was the only thing you'd look forward to at school. It came to the point where you couldn't hold on to your feelings anymore and firmly placed a letter on Minji's hand on her way home without making eye contact, doing your best to voice out words despite your flustered state. "Read it when you get home. Alone!"

A letter might've been too much, you really didn't know since everything was a first-time experience. But knowing you'd stutter in an instant if you confessed to her face to face and not being able to tell her your feelings because of it, you'd rather write it all and be thought of as cheesy or whatever than regret not being able to tell her properly. All your worries were washed away when you saw her the next morning with a beaming smile on her face, telling you straightforwardly: "I like you too"

That was exactly 4 years ago and now, you were organizing things, deciding which item goes to which box since you and Minji were moving to a different apartment soon. Even if it was hard to throw away, you had to get rid of things that you won't need for the future because securing space was a very big deal when it comes to apartments. So there you were looking through every stuff making sure you wouldn't take anything unscary with you, until you came across a small box. You don't remember seeing it before so it was probably Minji's. "Love is this yours?" Looking back at her putting some of her stuff inside boxes, Minji turned your way as she slightly lifted her black-framed glasses. "Oh yeah, that's mine…!" Half surprised, half excited, she quickly went your way and sat beside you carefully taking the box from your hands as if it was the most venerable thing. "I almost forgot about this" "What is it??" Curiously shifting your gaze from the box to Minji, she flashed a smile before slowly opening the box. Not noticing what it was at first but then, you out a loud gasp as you took a thing out of the box, examining it with a surprised expression. "You still had this!?" You say as you look at the yellow sticky pad with the memo "Have a great day" written in bad handwriting.

There were a couple more inside the box and looking at them one by one reminded you of the days back then. "You kept it…? But they're just memo pads…" "No…" Minji softly murmurs, looking down with a glimpse of affection at the memo pads you were holding. "They're more than memo pads. They're reminders of how much you cared and thought for me back then, before you gave this to me" She pulls out a familiar small brown envelope. "Oh my god, Minji!?" You excitedly squealed as that envelope was the love letter you shoved her in a rush 4 years ago. Scooting over and sitting between Minji's legs as she wrapped her arms around you getting comfortable, you re-read the whole letter with grunts and nose scrunching in cringe along the way. "God, this is so embarrassing…" Minji outs a soft laugh while she rests her chin on your shoulder, probably also re-reading your confession to her, feeling the nostalgia and rewinding all the memories at the back of her head.

Looking back at the box and what it contained inside, your eyes grow bigger every second seeing that Minji kept all the trinkets, bracelets you made her to match, receipts from when you both went out shopping all day, weird-shaped key chains you used to find cute back then, little notes you'd pass at each other during class while the teacher wasn't paying attention. "Literally everything…?" Feeling your girlfriend's embrace tighten on you and her face buried probably because she got a bit embarrassed that you found her little treasure box, you felt the overwhelming sensation of affection wash all over your chest as you smiled looking back and trying to face Minji who would look anywhere but your eyes. "Of course, I kept everything" She finally murmured with a sheepish smile. "Every single thing represents the tiny bits of love we have for each other"

Minji fixes her black-framed glasses again before looking at you full of adoration in her eyes.

"That's how I have you in my arms right now, yeah?"

creating a memory box is one of the best things

[lavendorii]

really emotional watching these kids grow up alongside me

[mothinabottle]

Possessive woman 😮

Whenever I think of fem! Syd, especially when it's the yandere Syd, I think of Chae Yuri design wise

Bonus commentary of the day: Women are pretty, I like those who are a bit unhinged or really strong. Maybe that's why I also adore Maki Zenin, Akali or Reze

I've also been thinking that I might need more mutuals, as I barely know ppl who play DoL. Oh, well, too shy for that ;;

[chipthekeeper]

"Everyone has their own rebellion." - Vel Sartha

@andorappreciation Week, Day 1: Favorite Characters/Character Dynamics -- Aldhani rebels

[draconi-dae]

I’m thinking a lot about how Andor as a show opposes a lot of the ideas of the Jedi code, and I’ve seen a few people put their thoughts on the lines about trying, so I thought I’d toss my brain in the ring

“Do or do not, there is no try”: a 1983 message about motivation and taking control of your own motivation and purpose. Do nothing by half measure, you have to have intent to succeed or you’ll never make it. In a movie that has been officially stated to be anti-war commentary about the protests against the Vietnam war, it makes sense that this would have a double meaning for viewers. Given by a wise old master to a young man as passing along wisdom.

“Remember this: try”: a 2022 message in a time where way more people feel absolutely hopeless about the state of the world. No matter how dismal you think it might be, you can make a chip against the despair in the world. If you just try a little, make an effort, it will help. In a show that’s blatantly anti fascist and anti capitalist, it’s clearly meant to be a message that just a little does something, even if it all seems futile. Said by a young rebel in a manifesto that he’s writing against the fist of the Empire.

Obviously this is a good amount of nonsense, it’s currently past 2 am and I’m kinda rambling, but my god. My god. This show has taken over my mind entirely

[headfullof-ideas]

A few doodles that have been sitting and waiting for me to add more to, before I decided ‘eh, three’s enough’ and posted them

Here we have a Gustav and an OC I’ve yet to talk about but while be important alongside Gustav and some other little kiddos later on in the story. Then an Astrid and Ingrid, done while exploring their dynamic. I am having way too much fun drawing a bunch of Ingrid, and figuring out her dynamic with other characters. She’s hot and she knows it, which makes her fun to draw. And then a conceptual idea for an adult Kari, around the age she’ll be around the end-ish of the fic’s timeline. So, twenty-ish. Also drew her with her hair somewhat down, because I realized I don’t draw her too often with her hair down, which is a shame cause it’s so thick and fluffy and curly-wavy and I love drawing thick and fluffy and curly-wavy hair. I like to make hair go POOF

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #3: Tempest

The sky ahead was darkening. Adelena frowned as she looked out over the rail at the approaching storm. Not a good sign. She'd seen plenty of storms in her time among the Sirens. This one was coming quickly and from the looks of things... It was coming in hard and violent.

Not what she wanted to deal with on this journey. She had faith in her skills of handling storms on boats but she didn't know these people. They weren't her sisters. There was no way for her to know how much skill these people had with storms. The last thing Adel felt like doing was rescuing people from the rough sea waters in a storm. Not that she couldn't do it, she'd done it before. Just not something she felt like doing today.

However this wasn't the Lady Infernal. This wasn't her sisters or her captain. As much as it itched to help, she was more trying to stay out of the way. Her traveling partner had already gone below deck out of the rain that was beginning to fall. Not Adel though. She'd ride out the storm above deck. Just in case. She didn't want the ship to go down if the storm got as wicked as she thought it might. Not if she could help it.

She'd be right here to help if she needed to. Even if it meant rescuing someone from the ocean.

[bobafetts-princess]

Logan Loves to Bite

Summary: This is quite literally an homage to how I feel that Logan Howlett fucks and that’s all there is to it.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Established relationship, Logan bites sometimes hard enough to break skin, hair pulling, ass smacking, choking, oral (fem!receiving) rimming (fem!receiving), no condoms on this blog

A/N: Welcome to my most popular AO3 fic! If you’ve seen it there, I’m the same person! This one is my favorite Logan fic, it makes me unhinged every time I read it. I hope yall like it here ✨

It was just in his nature as a feral mutant. He bit. He bit when he was nervous or scared, and he bit when he got off.

He was lucky you had a great healing factor, while it wasn’t as quick as his (no ones was), it was still fast and your ‘love bites’ disappeared in a matter of hours. His mouth was always on you when the two of you fucked and Charles even had to sound proof your room because Scott and Jean kept complaining about all the noise.

His favorite way to fuck you was from behind, either his hand wrapped in your hair to give him leverage, or your body pulled up against his so he could bite his way along where your neck and shoulder met.

He was animalistic like that, wanting to take you from a position where he had the most power, the most control. He’d pull your body up so it fitted against his and wrap a hand around your throat, nose buried in your hair as he pounded up into you. His increased sense of smell was his secret kink. He could smell your arousal from rooms away and sometimes you would see if you could get yourself off before Logan found his way to your shared room, sniffing the air and taking over.

Every once in a while he would let you ride him, but it wouldn’t take long for him to pull himself up to you, sinking his teeth into the soft spot where your jaw and your neck meet. He would turn your head, whispering dirty words in your ear as he fucked up into you. He said he loved the scent you released when he was fucking you. He would bury his nose where you released the strongest scent, between your breasts or behind your ears or along the hairline on the back of your neck.

He loved to go down on you too, burying his nose in the crotch of your panties, inhaling deeply and telling you how fucking sweet you smelled. He was always leaving marks on the insides of your thigh as he worked his way towards the apex of them.


He’d grunt and groan, eating your pussy for all it was worth, pausing only to bite your inner thighs or dig his fingers into your hips. He always said he loved to bite the skin on your inner thighs the most. The part where it always seemed to be soft and pliable, no matter how hard you worked to make it go away. The bruises always faded faster than the bites, but he loved seeing you covered in them anyways.

Then he’d flip you over, smacking your ass and leaving red marks before he’d sink his teeth in the soft flesh. If he was feeling especially dirty, he would work his tongue towards your puckered hole, massaging the tight ring at the same time his hands did the same with your cheeks.

Logan would slip inside you, pressing until he was fully seated and you felt him in your throat. He’d give you a couple sharp thrusts, relishing in the way you’d gasp when he’d hit that spot. He’d pull your upper body backwards, fitting it against his hard chest as his teeth scraped along the edge of your ear and he would tell you how fucking good your pussy felt clamped around him. Logan liked to fuck and he liked to fuck dirty. He loved to get you so fucked out so you just fell asleep on his chest when he finally came, spent from hours worshipping your body. He loved to make you scream his name, loved when the only logical thought you could come up with was “Logan, Logan, Logan.”

He loved seeing the way your pussy looked stuffed with his cock, the way he stretched you as you gripped him. He loved the whimpers and whines you let loose when he had your hair fisted in his hands, or his fingers wrapped around your throat. He loved getting you so worked up you were begging for him to give it to you, begging for it harder, rougher, dirtier.

You’d long since given him the okay to bury himself in you if he woke up from a nightmare and you’d lost track of the amount of times that you’d been woken from Logan pushing into your wet heat, hands gripping tightly at your hips as he used your body to drown out his nightmares. He’d pin you down to the bed, needing the control as he pounded into you, teeth scraping along your shoulder blades until he finally bit down, grunting against your skin as he spilled himself into you.

He loved the little sigh of pleasure as he drove home for the first time, filling you completely. He loved the little gasps you released as he nibbled his way across your shoulders, the way you arched in for more. He loved the way that you arched when you came, highlighting your breast’s and making him all the more ready to nibble on them. He especially loved the way when he finally came, biting down hard enough to break skin, you would always let loose this throaty groan that shot straight to his groin. Because when it came down to it, you loved to be bitten as much as Logan loves to bite.

[sonotkari]

Meaningless

Hanni Pham x Fem reader

[ Synopsis ]

When, Where, and How did you and Hanni become so close? What was the start of the yapping duo's relationship?

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

1.6k

[ a/n ]

I'm struggling with my other fics so in the meantime I'm dropping this off to feed my children (I'm sorry I just need MORE TIME) This was just something I wrote without my two brain cells actually functioning so heads up for that info! /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

My dearest and my loved ones dis for u bae <3

Somewhere in your mind, you'd wonder how everything started but never recall the moment. Maybe it was that one time way back in March when she sent you a picture of pudding flavor ice cream because apparently, it reminded her of you. Or maybe it was when you ranted about how you had volleyball practice almost every day with no breaks making you lose your shit soon. The question of how you became so close with Hanni had come up in your mind from time to time but it would always end up with no answer. It's really not that big of a deal, where an answer was needed asap, no, it was like those shower thoughts or maybe those random questions coming up in your head at 3 am while listening to music on your headphones, something like that. Regardless, whatever or however the conversation started, you were very grateful for it because now you have someone on your side who would listen to your random yappings whether it was about that hallway crush or that annoying History teacher who mostly talks about his life rather than teaching the class. 

The memory recalls when that one time she asked about your MBTI which was trending off at that time for who knows why. You did it once before it became popular and didn't think much of it since you never really understood a thing. You just did it anyway because TikTok told you so. So why not? But to think of it now, you made a good life choice of taking a 15-minute survey with just two of your brain cells working. Because now you both were texting each other nonstop knowing you were matching MBTI's with her. "I knew it. You sound like an INFP" "What's that even supposed to mean" And in the very end, Hanni fell asleep in the middle of texting, debating whether fairies are real or not. 

Most of the time the text messages and everything else were random. Except for that one time when she got into a (not so) fight with her best friend, giving her the cold shoulder. It was about something that triggered her which made her feel uneasy. You remember clearly how Hanni had asked you to come to school earlier than you usually did because she wanted company. And how she confessed she wanted to get things back to how it used to be with her best friend while crying on your shoulder in the bathroom. Encouraging her to speak her feelings to her best friend, after some days she was smiling excitedly rushing her way to you, grabbing your arms, saying she finally "did it" telling her best friend how she felt, and now they're back on track. 

In class, she would be seated beside you and always giggle about small little things making you hold on for your dear life to not suddenly burst out laughing in the middle of the session because, for some reason, you were so easily affected by her. Her smile makes you smile, her laugh makes you laugh, and her cheeky grin addressed to you makes you roll your eyes and look at her in a sidelong look with a small smirk on your lips. Others would point out or look at you both with dumbfounded expressions because you both wouldn't stop giggling every 5 minutes and everyone in class already knew whose voices the giggles belonged to because of how frequently it would happen. 

It was before summer break had started and you were ranting at Hanni about how you won't be seeing each other once the break starts. "You'll miss me, right?" became a habit of yours to say in your everyday convos, and her replying with a "Will I tho?" made you smack the girl's arm as a set, and that also became another one of your (bad?) habits. You wanted to squeal and jump around hearing her respond "Of course" to your ask if you could randomly call her because of how you'd probably miss her a lot and feel sad out of the blue due to the lack of her presence. Talking on a call wasn't your thing because you only have two brain cells that don't function well and you left your vocabulary somewhere making you end up in a stuttering mess but, you'd rather be a stuttering mess to Hanni than spend 2 months without hearing her voice. 

One memory from another, you recall another happy moment with her. She was in the cheerleading team and you promised you'd see her cheer on the day of the game but sadly you got a high fever the night before and had to inform her you couldn't get to see her first cheer on her first game. You couldn't help but think about the disappointment in the girl's face especially when she was eager for you to come and watch. The temperature got a bit better the next day and you were debating to yourself. Yes, your head was panging in pain, yes your body was a bit hot, and yes you feel numb moving and basically doing anything. But will it be worth it to bear everything just so you could see Hanni's surprised happy expression when you go and watch her? Oh yes. You know damn well everything's worth it when it's about Hanni. 

There you were in a rushing mess, running around your room while trying to get dressed, finding the other lost pair of socks while holding a cooling gel sheet for your forehead in your hand. Running wasn't good for you since it'll make your temperature go high again but all the rushed efforts will go to waste if you missed it. Is there any other choice? Of course not, silly. By the time you got to the gates of the school, all you could hear was the rhythmical beat of your heart with your panting, trying to calm yourself before you entered the gym. Of course, she was the one who noticed you first. There it was. The face. The expression. The dimples that would show every time she smiled. Excitedly rushing to you and showering you with questions about your fever state. "Weren't you not feeling well? What are you doing here― are you okay? Are you about to pass out?" "I just couldn't miss your cheer. I for sure would've regretted it if I stayed home" Your (maybe not so bad) habit had definitely influenced her as you felt a gentle smack on your arm along with a soft giggle from the girl.

The leaves began to lose their vibrant colors, crisping up and slowly falling down with the cold breeze flowing by in November. You asked Hanni to go out and hang out in this cafe your friend told you that had the best pudding in town, which she happily agreed to, and now both of you were walking in circles at the same place lost. Having no sense of direction and the Google map not being useful at all, you decided to give up going to the place. But someone doesn't seem to be happy about it. "What do you mean, let's go to a different shop?" "No, it's fine we can just go in another time. Besides it's cold and you're not very good with the cold" You looked at the flushed red tip of Hanni's ears and nose as you mumbled. "I'm not giving up. You were so excited about the pudding, so we're going to eat that goddamn pudding" And now you were walking again with Hanni by your side but this time, you were holding hands to "keep me warm if you're that worried" 

"What are you smiling so giddily about?" You snap out of the memories and look at the girl looking at you with concerned looks. "You look creepy to be honest babe..." "Oh shut up" Replying with a playful snicker you stood up from your seat and walked your way to your girlfriend hugging her from the side, resting your chin on her shoulder. "Hey, do you remember how we became friends?" Shifting your gaze to her, slightly tilting your head as you asked so. "Uhh... I don't... think so..." She now looked at you with a puzzled look. "I think we just went with the flow" "Haha, wow I went with the flow and got a girlfriend? Must be a mastermind then" Smackng your arm, Hanni outed a chuckle. "Hey, remember when I used to smack you like that a lot but now we switched positions" "Oh I'm definitely influenced by you. Bad and good" You mocked an offended expression, holding your chest dramatically. "What's that supposed to mean...!?" Hanni laughed again and went back to making her coffee. "I definitely remember that one time you came to see me cheer with a fever" It was your turn to out a chuckle hearing her recall the memory. "Hey how about that one time we went out but then got lost midway?" "Yeah, and you insisted on finding the place, even making excuses to hold my hand" "Aaahhh shush! Shut up! I was 16 leave me alone!!" Hanni sheepishly laughed which made you laugh again as well. 

"We had meaningless conversations all the time, talking about random stuff" Sighing softly as you linger your thoughts about your past friendship with Hanni. "What do you mean, meaningless?" Hanni was now stirring her coffee, blowing it occasionally as she fixed her gaze at you. "All the conversations we had, meant everything to me" She took a sip of her coffee along with a sigh and stared at you again. You could feel the affection from her gaze and can't help but feel your chest get warmer every second with the small smile and the little dimples on her cheeks showing.

Every moment we spent together means more than anything to me than you'll ever know. 

Hanni secretly, quietly thought to her mind, while smiling at the woman she loved most.

yappers falling inlove r so cute

[calibabii21]

|| awakened pt 3 || p.js

pairing: jisung x afab!reader

genre: smut, mature. mdni, cheeky, idol x black bestie au

warning:. flirtation, teasing, excessive use of the word noona lol, size kink, cunnilingus, fingering, slight exhibitionism/almost caught, confident boi Jisung, BDE Jisung agenda.

wc: 2.38k

a/n: so I have been working on this since March, and I am so sorry it has taken so long. if I'm being honest, Jisung wasn't even supposed have his own part, but his large hands have me in quite the grip. to my Sungie enthusiasts, @neoculturecollectives & @brownsugarbaybee, and everyone else waiting for this, thank you saur much for your patience😭🫶🏾 also, this isn't proofread🌚

“Here you go, Sungie,” you place the bowl of piping hot stew in front of the young boy.

“be careful, it’s hot.” he nods wordlessly and rushes to take a bite of one of your favorite foods “ou- fuck that’s hot!”

he glances in your direction, fanning his tongue, to see you giving him a look of disproval with your hands on your hips.

“Jesus- I just told you to be careful!!” you claim in exasperation, “what, do you need me to blow on it and feed it to you?” 

He immediately pauses and looks at you with an interested expression.

you scoff a laugh, turning away from him “I don’t even know why I asked.”

you hear the dragging of the stool against the hardwood floor as he stands up, “pleeeeease?” you shake your head and continue your task of washing the dishes “Jisung, no.”

You think he’s given up until you feel a chin fall onto your shoulder, “please noonaaa?” you tense at the pet name and tilt your head to see him giving you the most adorable side-eyed puppy dog pout.

“...fine.” you say gruffly before drying your hands and taking over his previous seat, instructing him to stand in front of you.

There’s a brief period of silence as you blow on the soup letting out a monotonous, “ahh,” to which he complies and repeats as you feed him.

“What are you staring at?” you question as you feed him the last bites and place the spoon into the empty bowl.

“nothing, noona, you just..seem so soft to me.” the phrase bringing heat to your cheeks as you’re instantly thrown into a memory of your last interaction-

“Well this is a surprise” a pink cheeked Jisung turns around leaning his back against the locked door, “did you..need something?”

You look at him with a raised brow as he stalks toward you, continuing to eye you. “You know, the least you could do is spea-” you’re hushed when he places a hand on the left side of your neck.

you can tell he’s unsure of himself through the hesitance of his touch, so you decide to remain silent and allow him his exploration of your body. 

His free hand runs featherlight touch from your shoulder, down your arm to your hand- pausing to inspect it in its entirety, mainly relishing in the softness of it in his own, before resuming his trail and resting his hand on your waist.

you shift your weight and let out a sharp breath as his right hand flexes against your throat in an attempt to compose himself as he seems to be getting overwhelmed by the feeling of you, “you're just so.. soft to me noona.” his grip drops a bit and tightens on your hip, “well..”

You’re brought back to the present as you feel Jisung’s hands on your thighs, his fingers mindlessly tracing shapes on them.

“Well I’m finished here so-”

“do you want to-''

you both pause, looking at the other to continue speaking before chuckling softly, “you go first.”

Like the gentleman he is, he allows you to speak your statement of finishing your task, “I said I’m finished here, so, I’ll go to my room.”

You can feel his hands falter against your bare skin, “o-oh..”

There’s an offness to his response, clearly signifying that he has more on his mind, “what is it you were going to say?”

your question is gentle as he looks at you with a sheepish, sour smirk, “it’s nothing noona. You can go to your room, I’ll finish up the dishes.”

He doesn’t even leave you room to respond as he’s already grabbed his dirty dish and returned to the sink. What's with him?

You're 99.9% sure he's doing this on purpose.

But on the .01% chance that he isn't, you manage to barely maintain your composure.

For some reason it’s like the other guys don’t even live here anymore. They’re always gone doing who knows what, yet you always see Jisung.

His presence has been even more..well, present, as of late. You don’t know if it’s your ovulation hormones, but everything about him stands out to you.

When he walks into the house straight after a workout drinking water, dressed in insanely compressed shirts tucked into loose basketball shorts.

When he walks into the kitchen fresh out of the shower with a towel around his shoulders to dry his hair- you can just tell his abs are being flexed beneath the oversized white t-shirts he wears.

The way he licks his lips in attempt to make his whistles come out smoother, when in reality, it’s just making you feral. You catch yourself watching him from the couch and have to snap yourself out of it as he joins you.

“What are we watching?” You shriek and scoot away from him when water from his wet hair flings in your direction. “Jisung, you have to completely dry your hair.”

You watch as he half rubs the towel through his hair and shake your head sighing, “bab- that’s not how it’s done Sungie.”

Soon you’re tugging the towel from his hands and straddling his lap. Though you act like you aren’t paying attention, you notice his expression is confident, unfazed.

Just studying you. Almost as if he knew you were having certain thoughts about him.

“Was this just an excuse to get close to me, Noona?” You jump at the sound of his voice, accidentally grinding against him, as his large hands come to your waist.

Your eyes finally meet one another’s, his smirk so naturally sexy your breath hitches.

When did he get this confident?

His eyes slowly trace over your face, noticeably taking in how close your lips are to his own. 

When your hands freeze in his hair, his eyes drift back to yours, “something wrong?”

You shake your head, “You’re just so..big.”

Whether you’re talking about his hands against you, his growing bulge, or just him in general- he doesn’t know, but you see something in his eyes flicker alight. 

“You know Noona, I think you were right..” you tilt your head as indication for him to continue.

“I think I do have a size kink..” you don’t say anything, just stare at him. “Because..every time you’re in my presence…looking up at me….I just want to completely demolish you.”

Your eyes gloss over and you let out the faintest whimper, causing him to let out a condescending laugh.

“Ohh, Noona. You’re so easy. If I had known how sensitive a kitten you were I’d have taken care of you sooner.”

Then he leans close to your face, as if about to kiss you, before pulling back- chuckling as you chase after him, cross eyed gaze solely on his lips.

“And a desperate one too.”

He looks ready to tease you some more but refrains as he hears the voices of a few of the members entering the house. 

“Unless you’re going to take this further in front of the guys, I suggest you get off of me gorgeous.” 

That night ends with heated stares at Jisung and the boys teasing you about how flustered you look. 

Or so you thought.

As you pad into the kitchen you notice how quiet the house is. It isn’t unusual for some of the guys to go to bed a little early, but for it to be pitch black at only 11pm- they must have a really early schedule. 

When you close the fridge, sipping on your cold tea, you’re startled by a husky whisper. “What are you doing up?”

You turn to Jisung with a hand over your racing heart and softly respond, “I got thirsty.”

But he wordlessly passes by you to grab a fresh bottle of water and replaces the tea in your hand.

“If you’re thirsty you should hydrate, not dry yourself out with a caffeinated..beverage.”

he chuckles leaning against the counter next to you and drinks the tea that was once yours, “You’ve gotta stay nice and moist.”

There’s a beat of silence before he bursts into quiet laughter, ‘I couldn’t even take myself seriously with that one.”

Your giggles are cut short as he pivots to face you, swiftly lifting you onto the counter. “Can you tell I’ve been in the gym Noona?”

Based on the look you gave him, he even found himself cringing at his line, “Okay, yeah, i-ignore that-”

He takes a deep breath and starts over, “What I’m trying to say is, do you see how easy it is for me to toss you? I could just ragdoll you as I please, couldn’t I?”

It isn’t until now that you’re getting fed up with the tugging of his back and forth teasing. “Are you just going to talk or will you actually do something this time.”

Your question turned statement catches him off guard for a split second, but he shakes his head, quick on the cover up and scoffs gripping the counter; just close enough for you to feel the heat from his hands on your thighs.

“I’ve only been trying to be respectful of you Noona.” His hands ghost over the skin of your calves  “Because once I touch you,” before tracking their way up to firmly rest on your thighs, eyes slowly dragging up to meet yours, “there’s no getting rid of me. Understand?”

Your breath is shaky as it releases in a pant, but you nod nonetheless.

You allow the tips of his fingers to slip beneath the t-shirt you’re wearing- which, now that you think about it, may or may not be his.

“So you not only steal my clothes..but when it’s worn, you choose to wear nothing underneath.”

He lets out a laugh that nearly sounds like a growl and digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. “Does it make you feel closer to me? Were you just waiting for a moment like this? Me sweet talking your pussy to leak on this counter?”

The whimpering is uncontrollable at this point. How does he even think of these things?? You’re snapped out of your thoughts when his left hand latches onto your face, giving your cheeks a slightly tense grip as his thumb begins massaging between your folds. “Noona? I asked you a question.”

The dominance is suddenly upped- almost in a similar manner to someone you’re very familiar with, but it is oh so natural and perfect on him. 

“I-I don’t know.” It’s obvious that you just spat out an answer, already wrapped up in pleasure, so he takes his actions even further.

“You are way too distracted and dumb- and so soon already.”

He nips at your bottom lip before releasing your face and pulling you to the edge of the counter, “Try and keep your voice down. Think you can do that for me?”

You nodded eagerly, biting your lip. Now, this man could have been asking you to assist him in a bank heist, but the sight of Jisung’s face between your legs, in the kitchen- he could ask you to do anything and you’d say yes.

Immediately your head is thrown back before slowly tilting back down to look at him, your eyes meeting instantly as he flat tongues the first lick to your clit. 

Never did you think you would see, let alone be the cause of, Jisung in such an erotic position. With his hands up your shirt, pinching your nipples, your fingers reach out to brush his bangs away from his eyes, but that sets him off and he’s fully diving into you.

Feasting.

Though your breathing alone is noticeably audible, he doesn’t reprimand you over it. He only inserts his index and middle finger in you, pumping in a perfected ‘come hither’ motion as he begins sucking on your clit.

Just as someone opens their bedroom door, seemingly heading to the restroom, you let out a less than soft moan, “Jisung.”

The person’s steps falter, but that only makes Jisung increase the speed of his fingers as his free hand latches onto your mouth and nose, blocking your airflow.

Despite the lewd noises his tongue and your juices make, the person continues their journey to the bathroom.

“Dumb fucked out kitten can’t even keep its mouth shut, so I’ll shut it for you.” Your tongue tries to loll out as your head tilts back, but with his hand covering your mouth, it only runs across the sensitive flesh of his palm.

The texture of your tongue causing him to falter and let out a small groan, “Can’t wait to get your tongue on me?”

The visual to his words with the lack of oxygen have you clenching around his fingers, which in turn prompts him to moan against you, “mm ‘bet you just imagined being on your knees for me, didn’t you?”

You feel your body both tensing and going slack as he eggs you closer to your climax. “You’re enjoying the feeling of my fingers so much. Just how much further will my cock make you fall apart?”

And those words. The hidden promise in them. That is what brought you to your end. Toes curled, back arched, and legs both spreading and drawing back in a way that causes his fingers to caress your insides differently at the last second.

You end up biting down on his hand as a means to keep from screaming as juices spurt out of you, but he just takes it; focused solely on the rapid lapping of his tongue and the contradicting strokes of his long digits.

Your vision fades even darker in the already pitched kitchen, but Jisung’s soft voice and large hands coddling your face pull you back to reality. “Noona..Noona? You here with me?” You blink up at him, nodding as a stupid dopey grin slowly makes its way onto your face, “mhm.”

He sighs a chuckle and shakes his head, “alright Dopey, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Making sure your legs are stable as he helps you off of the counter, he guides you back to your room to care for you properly- the mess you made on the floor slipping both of your minds.

Little do you know what tomorrow has waiting for you

*mdni banner made by ©️cafekitsune*

[karikarasuno]

Pantone 16-1364

Pairing: Ichigo Kurosaki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Soulmate!AU, Modern!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Pumpkin Picking/Carving, Floor Sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sappy Feelings

Word Count: 10.9k

a/n: this was supposed to be @thegetoufather birthday fic, but life had other plans for me so i couldn’t finish it in time. but nevertheless, it is here. i hope you enjoy this, my love, my other half, my soulmate. and happy birthday, you a real one. 

The world is black and white. And maybe a little less than fifty shades of grey. For those who have fallen in love, it’s rumored that they can see a few shades more. A color called red or even blue. But for you it’s still dull, love not having awarded you those rose colored glasses you’ve heard about. Yet you still hold out hope that one day, you’ll see more, that love will find you and fill your world with something colorful. Even if it’s mild compared to what a person can see when they meet their soulmate. 

Apparently it’s a rush and a daze. It’s sudden and overwhelming. The world like nothing you could’ve ever imagined before. And you crave it. But you also force yourself to be a touch realistic. The odds of you meeting your rumored other half is unlikely. Zeus allegedly had taken that from you a millennium ago. You’ve stayed up late into the night more times in your life than you could count simply imagining what your soulmate was up to, imagining what it would be like connected so physically that you shared a body and a beating heart. 

The thought alone is too much. So you focus on other things. Like the line for Starbucks wrapping around the entire store, the afternoon rush is just as unsightly as the morning one. And you feel bad for the baristas, but you’ve been up for far too long. The weight of waking at 4am hanging heavy on your shoulders as you finished your shift at the hospital. And really all you wanted was a pumpkin spice latte. The weather finally catching up to the season in a way you thoroughly enjoyed. You place your order with the young looking girl at the register, her demeanor a bit frazzled as you specified your order and walked off to the side to wait. 

The crowd is thankfully shrinking. Bodies no longer push you off into a corner and you take your first conscious deep breath of the day. You relax as much as you can and go over the other tasks you have to do once you get home. A nap at the very top of it, if you’re being honest. Your name is called some minutes later, incorrectly but you know it’s you as you walk back up to the pick up bar to grab your drink. You give the person a small thank you, grateful to finally be heading home. That is until you bump into someone. They’re taller than you, build firmer in comparison to yours. And the force with which you slam into them has your bag slipping from your shoulder and your coffee lid popping off the top of your cup. Your blessed pumpkin spice latte spilling right over the lip and all over hand as you drop it from the shock of the heat. You could cry, the tears already burning the back of your eyeballs. There’s a series of apologies falling from the other person’s lips, a hand gripping your bicep to keep you steady, and napkins being shoved into your open hands. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. One deep breath and then a broken exhale to ground you. But when you open your eyes to look at the person keeping you up, your vision is blurry and out of focus. Like a camera lens that can’t seem to concentrate on the subject. Your head is spinning, your body feeling like it’s teetering sideways. And you see it. Colors. Too many to keep track of, all bright and bold and nauseatingly vivid. This can’t be happening, not to you, not now. Not ever if you are being honest. This is too unexpected, your control snatched straight from your fingertips as you look up at him. He’s stunning. Heartbreakingly gorgeous. And you wish you had the ability to describe the extraordinary color of his hair, the color bright enough to blind you. There’s a headache forming at your temple, a building pressure behind your eyes as you take everything in. It’s too much. You feel like a newborn first opening their eyes. A world that is too foreign suddenly appears all at once and in high definition. 

He’s staring straight back at you. The moment just containing you and him in the middle of a bustling Starbucks. But you can’t bring yourself to care about anyone else. Too enraptured by him. Your soulmate. The one ripped from you by a bitter Greek god and you get it. This is terrifying in a way you cannot comprehend. Color rises on his cheeks. Irritating you because you can’t pinpoint it. But it burns and you yearn to feel it beneath your fingertips. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his voice gruff and astonished. It warms you from the inside out. The autumn chill long forgotten as your coat becomes stifling. 

“No.” It comes out confused and accidentally. 

“No?” He mimics, voice just as confused, but his hand tightens on your bicep as you sway. You bring a hand up to dig the heel into your eye, shutting them again in disbelief as a dizziness begins to take you. The pain in your head grows tenfold when you open your eyes again. Your vision continuously in and out as you stare at the man in front of you. 

Your soulmate. 

“This can’t be real,” you say, regaining some sort of composure as you register the napkins in your hand and the cold stickiness clinging to your scrubs. He seems quicker on his feet than you are, bending over to pick up your spilled coffee and laying some napkins down to soak up the mess. You can tell he’s still processing this. But not in the same way you are. Not in the outwardly life altering, mind numbingly slow way that you are. 

“Sorry,” he says again, stepping back to toss the soaked napkins into the nearby trash can. You’re still embarrassingly frozen in place. Too many thoughts and also none at all buzzing through your mind as you wrap your head around the situation. It is far too much. 

A barista is coming over with a mop soon enough, breaking your spell as you step aside to allow him to clean up the mess you made. He offers you a sympathetic smile, and you notice the colors of his eyes are light and a weird feeling twists in your gut when you can’t put a name to it. It’s almost like a pit of envy has rooted itself into your stomach at the fact that this is what you’ve been missing your whole life. And you can’t even identify what you’re seeing, just that your eyes have finally reached the full extent of their abilities and your brain is pounding because of it.

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, walking around the mess on the floor and closer towards him. You shift your bag onto your shoulder again, your feet feeling like they're on solid ground instead of walking on water. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I should’ve been more careful, but it was like you appeared out of nowhere,” his voice is distant, like he’s thinking too hard about the situation. “It must’ve been the,” he waves his hand between your bodies, gesturing vaguely to what you assume is the bond. The inevitable entangling of your soul threads that whipped you two into each other. 

“Yeah,” you nod meekly, not sure what more to say. An awkwardness so palpable settles around you two and you almost want to run. But it’s as if you no longer have control over your limbs, your feet taking you closer to him instead of towards the door like your brain is telling them to. It still seems fake to you that he’s here, the person you’re fated to be with always within a normal distance and not halfway across the world like you always thought them to be. 

“I, um,” he pauses, sensing your apprehension and giving you a moment. You’re starting to feel cold now that the coffee is no longer hot. Your clothes are just wet and uncomfortable on your skin. “I’m Ichigo.”

Ichigo. Ichigo, your soulmate. 

You swallow. Your name stutters out from between your lips and for a second you assume you said it incorrectly. Adding syllables where there are none. But when he repeats it, sounding as awestruck as you feel, your heart grows. It knocks against your ribcage and pushes out whatever air you had left in your lungs. You’re selfish all of a sudden. The need to hear him say it again tangles its way into your being and a fast greed washes over you. 

“Ichigo,” you repeat, the name supposed to be foreign on your tongue but it’s sweet and familiar. Comforting as if you’ve been saying it for lifetimes. 

You’re not sure how you made it to your apartment after that. He was heading back to work when you gathered enough brain cells to rub together to have a normal conversation. Something about some office job. But honestly your head was still reeling and your eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets, so you exchanged numbers and went your separate ways. Except now you stand in your living room. All the furniture and decor are a mixture of colors that you can’t decide if you like or not. Rangiku had picked everything out when you moved in together a few months ago. She met her soulmate over a year ago. But she’d fallen in love prior to that so her concept of colors has always been far different from yours. 

You need an aspirin. And a shower. And a fucking nap. 

You try to keep your eyes shut for as long as you can, bracing yourself against the kitchen sink as you chug some water and two pills. The door unlocks from behind you as you wait there, Rangiku yelling that she’s home so loudly the pain in your temple sharpens. 

“You okay?” She asks as she takes off her shoes by the door and puts her things down. She sounds concerned, her voice thankfully dropping multiple decibels to a more manageable volume for you. When you open your eyes, she’s standing much closer to you than you expected. And the first thing you notice is her hair. It’s nearly the same color as Ichigo’s. And again, a pang of jealousy resonated in your chest. 

“Your hair…” You reach out to feel some of the thick tresses hanging over her shoulder. She must’ve had a blow out this morning because it’s soft and voluminous, but really, you can only concentrate on the vibrancy of the color. 

“I just got it done,” she smiles, teeth twinkling and eyes shiny. “I saw a new lady today and she was amazing. I swear she worked some magic because my hair has never looked this good.”

And she’s right. It’s glossy and strong, each strand bouncing and smooth beneath your fingertips. But again, you’re stuck on how it just reminds you of him. “The color, it's just like-” his, it’s just like his.

“Oh yeah, the hair lady said she never worked on a natural ginger before–”

“Ginger. Is that what this color is?” You force your eyes to focus on it. Force them to concentrate on the deepness of it that’s packed beautifully within each strand. 

“Wait.” Her whole body freezes, her chattiness devolving into stunned silence as she stares openly at you. There are gears turning inside her head. Her eyes are darting all over your face in rapid tiny movements and you swear the motion makes you dizzier than you already are. “You can see my hair color?”

It’s hard to respond to her. Difficult to explain the situation when you are still processing it yourself. But there’s a rising excitement coursing through her body. She has questions. So many that you don’t know how to answer. You don’t even know if you want to. 

She calls your name, emphasizing each syllable slowly, as if your hearing changed and not your eyesight. “Tell me right fucking now if you can see the color orange.”

Orange.

You’re ready to pass out. You wanted this so badly, but now you’re not sure if you can handle it. Not in this state, at least. “I met him today at Starbucks. He bumped into me and spilled my coffee everywhere and I’m so dizzy and my head hurts so bad and he’s so gorgeous and I don’t think I can do this.”

Words are flying from your mouth before you can stop them. A tornado of emotions that was swirling inside of you is now spinning out of control and straight at Rangiku. She’s pulling you into a hug though, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and the pressure helps you breathe. It alleviates some of the pain thumping against your skull and you suddenly want to cry. 

Your world is on an axis foreign to you. Gravity is a concept you’re no longer acquainted with and your soul feels like it’s not even tethered to your body anymore. 

“How did you do it? When you met Gin for the first time, how did you keep from falling apart?”

She places a sympathetic hand on your head, cradling you to her body as she just holds you. “Come on, let’s get you out of these gross clothes and into bed. You’ve had a long day.”

As soon as you are laid in bed, your blanket tucked over your shoulder and under your chin, sleep welcomes you immediately. To be fair, you’re exhausted. Meeting your soulmate was just the cherry on top of a sleep deprived day. And if you didn’t wake up some odd hours later— pain in your head gone, but colors still attacking your vision— you would’ve sworn it was some fatigue induced delirium. But no. Your duvet is a pretty light shade of something and there’s a rug at your bedside that’s fluffy and a deeper shade of something else. The curtains are white, at least that much you know. So for a fact, you didn’t imagine him. Him and his orange hair and stunning eyes and strong hand. Your bicep is still warm from where he gripped you, almost as if he branded it into your skin from just one brief meeting. 

It’s difficult enough to thumb through all of your muddled feelings. But oddly, there is an overwhelming sense of relief. Like some weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying around for so long has somehow lifted and you’re lighter. Is this how Rangku feels? Like she’s floating?

You find her in the living room when you finally muster the strength to pull yourself out of bed for the second time today and see her with her hair tied up messily on her head as she paints her toenails. The tv is playing some random real estate reality show she’s been trying to get you to watch and her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth with concentration. You don’t make a noise at first, not wanting to disrupt her when she’s already on her pinky toe and you know damn well she will fuck up if you interrupt her. So when she’s done, a satisfied grin on her face, you plop down beside her with a heavy, huffy breath. 

“Your head still hurt?” She glances your way, sympathetic but ready to pry. She won’t ask anything if you’re still in pain, regardless of if she’s dying to know. So while her question comes from concern, it’s also laced with her own self interest. 

“No,” you say, nudging her shoulder away with your palm, “just hurry up and ask me your questions.” 

“I need every single detail. What does he look like? How did you meet? Is he tall? I need an estimate too, like feet an-”

“You’re gonna make my head hurt again if you don’t stop,” you laugh, heat touching your cheeks from the memories she’s pulling from your brain that’s still slightly foggy from sleep and distant pain. Her features soften, a tiny, excited smile on her face as she waits for you to respond. You bring your hands up to hold your cheeks in your palms, still warm to the touch as you try to decide where to start first. Images of Ichigo flash through your mind and you wonder how to even describe him to her. And you’re positive that if he wasn’t your soulmate and you didn’t meet him for the first time in dazzling colors, you would still find him dizzyingly attractive. 

“Go on then,” she urges, nudging your calf with her foot, careful not to press her freshly painted toes onto your sweats. 

“Well, his name is Ichigo.” And the story flows forth from you with ease like a rush of water lapping at the sandy shores, the words never ending as her questions meet your thoughts halfway. It’s late into the evening when you manage to end the conversation, she ordered takeout before you woke up, already knowing you’d be too tired to want to cook anything. She pulled out her laptop too, finding those flashcards you use in kindergarten to show you all the basic colors. You recognized very few. Black, grey, white, and now orange. But there are so many more that you wondered how someone could choose a favorite. 

Red is nice, it comes in so many shades you find yourself drawn to the darker ones. Blue is wonderful too, the pastel ones especially pretty. But you aren’t sure if it’s just your newfound bias because of a certain someone, that your eyes always linger on orange. 

The next time you see Ichigo is at a local cafe. It’s small and one of your favorite spots, so when he suggested it you jumped at the opportunity. It’s been a week or so since you first bumped into him. The week drainingly long and cumbersome. Your shifts seemed to last forever, the residents up your ass with misplaced pride, and you just wanted to go home. Your only saving grace is Ichigo. He likes to text you sporadically throughout the day, but never too late and never too early. He’s the one who actually reached out first, the day you met he texted you at around dinner time. A simple hey and you were smiling like an idiot at your phone for twenty minutes. 

Since then conversation was easy if not a bit stilted at the beginning. You found out he works at a publishing company in the children’s literature department as an editor and translator. Which admittedly tickled you because he didn’t seem the type. And when you told him just that he was adamant that there couldn’t be a ‘type’ to childrens lit. You decided not to die on this hill, even though riling him up was proving to be particularly entertaining. 

“See anything you like?” He asks over the menu, peeking up at you curiously. You’ve been taking turns stealing glances since you arrived a few minutes after he did. Your memory of him really didn’t do him any justice. He is slightly tanner than you remember, his eyes a stunning shade of what you now know is brown. It’s light and warm, very welcoming on his otherwise serious face. 

“I had my eye on the roasted red pepper pesto sandwich, probably with a side of chips.” Your eyes drift down the menu, reciting your usual order by memory since you haven’t paid a lick of attention to the menu since you’ve arrived. 

“Hmmm, that looks good,” he says inquisitively, his eyebrows furrowing in thought and you can’t help but admire how endearing he looks, with his lips in a thin line and his brows pinched together. He traces a knuckle down the laminated menu, running through the options again as he clearly struggles to choose one. 

“It’s really good, it’s one of the only vegetarian dishes so my options are limited, but it’s actually delicious.” 

“You’re vegetarian?” His eyebrows quirk up interested. You nod, placing the menu face up in front of you to look at him fully, instead of between glances that didn’t belong to you. 

“Not a big fan of the texture of meat, so I stopped eating it a while back,” you explain, somehow expecting an adverse reaction from him, but he simply reciprocates your stare. Taking in the information and storing it. 

He, on the other hand, ends up ordering a traditional breakfast sandwich– fried egg (sunny side up), bacon (not too crispy), and provolone cheese all on a croissant. 

“Breakfast for lunch?” You ask teasingly after the orders are placed and the waitress takes your menus. He smiles at you, small and endearing before he reclines more comfortably in his seat– gaze unwavering from yours. 

“I skipped it this morning because I was in a rush to get to work. I hate doing that, though, because it throws off my entire day when I don’t have breakfast.” Interesting, you think. You’re usually one to skip breakfast anyway, with how demonically early you have to get up to be ready for your shift at the hospital. 

You don’t answer him, just stare. Which is probably odd, maybe unnerving, but you still haven’t been able to quite comprehend the fact that he’s real. And seems just as interested in you as you are him. Especially with the way he meets your stare without any sort of shame. When the food arrives you’re pleased to see the vast arrays of colors that decorate your plates. You never expected for food to be so colorful. It’s fun. 

Ichigo runs a knife down the center of his sandwich, drags the serrated edge across the ceramic plate and you watch as a gooey bright color seeps from its center. Rangiku taught this one to you too, but the name is escaping you right about now. 

“What color is that?” You ask before you can reel the question back in, before you can think of whether he would even know it. But he looks up at you and then back at his plate. 

“This one?” He gestures with his knife to what you presume is the egg’s yolk, having seen it before but always assuming it would be a muted grey. You couldn’t have been more wrong. You nod to urge him to go on and he thinks for a moment, running the color wheel through his head like you have been doing all week and says, “it’s yellow.”

You’re dying to ask him if he’s seen it before. If colors began to make their debut in his life long before you met each other. But with a question like that comes talk of love– past love, maybe even pained love. Has his heart ever been broken? You’re not sure if you want to know. You’ve seen heartbreak on Rangiku when you two were teenagers. It wasn’t pretty. It scared you into believing that maybe a world in color wasn’t worth it. 

“That’s not what I thought egg yolks would look like,” you laugh, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat. Your sandwich hosts an array of colors as well. The red you knew already, it’s in the name. But the green of the pesto is what surprises you when you lift the food to your face. 

“Have you never seen colors before?” The question gives you pause, a squirming uncomfortable feeling starts to root around in your stomach because the implication is all you hear. The underlying question rings, have you never been in love before?

“Have you?” Slight defense in your tone, but mainly curiosity. A burning red begins to blossom up his neck and tinge the tip of his ears. He realizes the hinting nature behind his own question once it was thrown back at him. He’s embarrassed. 

“Uh, yes.” The squirming feeling rises to your chest, threatening to ink your heart with murky emotions. “Obviously never like this. Not until I met you.”

You nod and clear your throat. You shove some of the sandwich into your mouth and take a larger than necessary bite to avoid saying anything. To avoid having to say something when you didn’t know what. It’s not fair to feel this way. You had lives before each other. Lives without each other. And you’ve known him for all of 8 days, but there’s a seed that has been planted and is growing at a rate you have no control over. Maybe it’s your soulmate bond. Or maybe you’re just hopeless. 

“We were together in high school,” he starts, unprompted by you, but feeling the overwhelming urge to explain. “Broke up in college, the distance kinda drove us apart since we went to different universities. It didn’t end badly or anything, though.”

“Do you still talk?” You’re jealous, you realize a second too late. The question flies from your head and you suddenly feel like you’re being intrusive. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Your cheeks are warm, your hands slightly clammy, so you take another bite out of your sandwich. 

“Not really,” he shrugs. “We share mutual friends since we’ve known each other for so long. She’s actually engaged to her soulmate. She met him not too long after we ended things actually.”

Oh, you feel kind of bad now for asking something so private. But he doesn’t look dejected or bitter when he says it. Mostly indifferent, but you’re not sure if it’s a mask or if he truly means it. 

“You?”

Your head whips up to look at him. Heart fluttering because you forgot this conversation started with you. You were too caught up in his past to remember what even brought it up. 

“Um,” you fidget in your seat, feeling awkward now, which is probably how he felt. The seat too hot to sit in. “I dated a guy a few years ago and nothing really came of it. Not anything colorful, anyway.”

He hums, finally biting through his sandwich. Yolk smears across his bottom lip and you want to wipe it clean. The yellow is much more transparent on his lip, the skin there dusted with red. And you want to kiss him. So badly it’s sort of jarring. But you don’t, obviously. He catches you staring when he looks up. A tension that was not here before enveloping the entire table and you wish you could take a photo of him at this exact moment. His jacket is still on, his hands cradling the sandwich between long fingers, and his brown eyes sucking you into him. But it’s not that you’re dying to capture. It’s the sunlight that beams through the wide window you sit beside. The autumn rays bouncing off of his hair and the orange absorbs the light like it is meant for him. Like the sun is his. And you’re helplessly orbiting him. 

For two weeks, meeting him once your shift ends and during his lunch hour becomes routine. Weekends are a trickier battleground since plans had already been made in advance and therefore much tougher to align your schedules. But lunch is simple. Your text threads now consist of options of what to try next. Some new while others are old favorites you want to share with each other. 

You also find that sharing with him is terrifyingly easy. From family history to embarrassing high school experiences to your drunken escapades with Rangiku. It is all divulged in a single hour with a table separating you and food as your only other company. But sometimes the topics are tougher to navigate. When Ichigo told you that he lost his mother at a young age forcing him to step up and help his father care for his younger twin sisters it was over two bowls of soup– yours tomato bisque and his french onion. But most times they are much lighter, like when you find out he’s not a big fan of sweets. You had offered him a bite of your brownie and he physically recoiled. He had a tendency for physical reactions, most of the time to express disgust which you teased him relentlessly for. You caught the both of you by surprise one afternoon when he scowled at something you said, your thumb coming up to smooth out the creases that formed between his eyebrows whenever he did that.

Touching him also comes just as easy as everything else. He’s always moving pieces of hair from your face and you developed a quick habit of holding onto his arm whenever the two of you walk through crowded streets or busy restaurants. Your first kiss is actually shared at a crosswalk. The temperature that day dipped into something brisk and chilly. You were sleepier than usual so you found comfort in resting against him and allowing him to take the lead to your destination. In your state of half paying attention, you tripped over a chunk of lifted cement on the sidewalk as you were about to cross the street. But he caught you with strong arms around your waist. The sleepiness that was weighing down your eyelids disappeared with a gust of wind and suddenly your face was pressed into his broad chest. Your heart had probably stopped because you could no longer feel it beating in your chest when you looked up at him. The world had seemed to slow down, your mind filtering out everyone but him. You’re not sure who made the first move. It’s hard to remember when all that clouds that memory is the perfect brush of his lips against yours. And then he was pulling away before you could even register that the kiss had happened. He was blushing again, finally asking if you were okay and smiling when all you could do was nod at him. The alarming noise of the crosswalk signaling for you to hurry and cross the street was the only thing that tore you from that moment. Because you swear you could have kissed him forever. 

And kissing him is all you want now that your day shifts have turned into overnights for the week. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so badly until you and Ichigo started functioning on opposite schedules. You ache for him. Your soul throbs to be near him. And it does feel like losing a limb when you’re not together. The string of fate is taut and ready to snap from how terribly you yearn for him. Zeus is a bitch for carving humanity in half. 

Still, Ichigo finds ways to make you smile. Oftentimes staying up later than you know he’s used to. Or even offering to drop off food on his way home from work while you get ready to start your shift for the night. You take him up on it one night, no longer bothered by the idea of inconveniencing him because you just want to see him. He shows up on your doorstep with some takeout. His nose is tinted pink from the cold and hair windswept from walking from the parking lot to your apartment. 

“I picked up some food from that Thai spot you’ve been mentioning. I guessed a little on what you would want.” He holds up the bag, the smell already warming you and your stomach grumbles as a result. He chuckles at the sound as he strides into your apartment, toeing off his shoes near the door before bending over to kiss your cheek. You’re still in your loungewear, and you initially felt self-conscious about not changing for him but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. Instead gazing around your apartment with acute fascination. There are signs of you and Rangiku all over the place. An organized mess of diy projects half started and miscellaneous knick knacks you and her find whenever you go thrifting and have to buy. 

You also started experimenting with color, buying unnecessary amounts of blankets or decorative pillows or wall art simply because you enjoy the colors schemes. There is a mirror lying on your dining room table, painter’s tape lining the edges with some tentative strokes of yellow framing the outer corners. 

“You paint?” He places the takeout on the bar counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, staring curiously at the project on your table. 

“Not exactly,” you laugh, not wanting to call whatever smears of acrylic on glass painting. “I saw someone do this on TikTok and I thought it would be a good way to learn colors. There are so many shades of just one color when I walked into the crafts store a couple weeks ago I thought my head was gonna explode.”

You remember trying to find the yellow that resembled yolk, but instead fell face first into a color called mustard that you couldn’t stop yourself from buying. There were about twelve other colors you left with that day, your wallet not the happiest with you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“What’s this supposed to be?” He asks innocently, head tilted to the side as he takes in the wobbly paint. His eyes are narrowed as he scrutinizes it, it’s his thinking face which you’ve grown quite fond of. You smile as you watch him, finally feeling more like yourself than you have these last few days.

“I’ll serve us our food and then I’ll show you the video I’m talking about.”

He joins you for dinner, but when the time comes for him to leave it’s still too soon. You even contemplate calling out just so you could spend the rest of the night sitting on your couch with him. But he’s far more responsible than you are, level headedly telling you that you should probably go in and that Saturday his day is free. An excited feeling flurries around your chest because this is the first Saturday you’ve had available too, so you promise it to each other. A new motivation simmers under your skin as you go about the rest of your week. Knowing that by the end of it, you and Ichigo will have more than just an hour together. 

“Gin is picking me up soon,” Rangiku shouts from her bedroom so you can hear her in yours. She has luggage rolled out by the door, the apartment having turned into her extended closet as she packed for her getaway trip with Gin. Somewhere tropical. 

“Lucky you,” you say as you walk into her room. She’s still throwing things into a small backpack when you do. “Having a sugar daddy to whisk you away to fancy places.”

She rolls her eyes at you, throwing a stray sleepshirt at your face. “He is not my sugar daddy, he just likes to spoil me.”

Her smile brightens at the thought of him. And before you would get jealous of the far off lovey look on her face, but you are starting to think you look the same whenever you think of Ichigo.

You’re going to a pumpkin patch with him today, the leaves all sorts of pretty colors and you wouldn’t trade some beach vacation for it any day. 

“You’ll have the apartment all to yourself this weekend,” she says, cutting your thoughts in half. You don’t miss the suggestive tone in her voice. Your cheeks are heating in response. “Any fun plans?”

“Just hanging out with Ichigo later today. He’s taking me to pick out a pumpkin that we’re probably gonna carve. Maybe make some dinner together.” You try to keep your voice light and level, occupying yourself by unplugging her charger from the wall beside her bed since it’s the one thing she never fails to forget. 

“Just hanging out,” she nods, sitting on the edge of her bed with a sly smile on her face. She takes the charger from you, but not her eyes from your face. You hate that you know what she’s thinking. Because it’s been whirling around in your brain, the fact that you two will be alone together. In your home. Just the two of you. Your mind has wandered too many times to even count and your body flushes in response. 

“That’s the plan,” you shrug, hoping she lets the conversation end here and sitting beside her.

“I sure as hell hope not. It’s been fucking forever for you and you deserve some head, at least.”

“Rangiku!” Your entire body is burning and you’re not the type to shy away from conversations like this, but Ichigo makes you feel so oddly shy and you don’t want to fuck up whatever you have with him by being too forward. 

“It’s the truth, bitch. You’re overworked and under pleasured,” she laughs, your face scrunching up at her.

“What is wrong with you?” 

“You love me,” she giggles and hugs you to her chest, totally pleased with herself.

“So there must be something wrong with me then?” You joke, wiggling from her tight embrace and getting up from her bed. There’s a knock on the door that interrupts her retort and her eyes twinkle at the sound of it. “Go get your man,” you sigh exaggeratedly, barely hiding your own happiness for her. 

She squeals and gets up from her seat, practically skipping towards the door and leaving you alone. You do an additional once over of her things, making sure she isn’t forgetting anything important. Not like it matters much when she can buy whatever she’s missing wherever they land. 

“Oh, hi,” you hear her greeting rise in pitch, sounding surprised which doesn’t make any sense. 

“Hello.” Oh god, it’s Ichigo. His familiar voice matches the surprised tone of Rangiku’s. Panic is rising in your chest, afraid of what nonsense will come from her mouth. You practically run out into the hall, ready to stop the train before it wrecks itself. 

“You’re early,” you say breathlessly, glad that you had the foresight to be up and dressed by now– hair done and up in a claw clip. 

“I am?” You check your phone for the time, and yeah he’s about an hour early, but you can’t complain because you’re more than happy to see him. Less excited about the unexpected introductions you now have to do. 

“Just a little, but that’s okay.” Rangiku is smiling between the two of you, eyes even more sparkly than they were before, this time with something you should be slightly worried about. “This is-”

“Rangiku,” she finishes for you, holding out her hand for him to shake. “And you must be Ichigo.”

He takes her hand firmly, and you almost want to tease him for reverting into the shy side of him. He’s sometimes reserved, but him meeting Rangiku and being a little speechless makes you chuckle under your breath at him. 

“I am,” he clears his throat, finally walking over the threshold once Rangiku moves out of his way. “I’m assuming I’ve been talked about.” 

He slides his eyes in your direction, a hardened glance that has a playfulness behind it. One that sends a shiver down your spine involuntarily. 

“Mmm, in various degrees,” Rangiku adds, not missing the way his look made you react. Ichigo’s eyebrows raise, inquisitive and asking for more information through his expression.

“Nothing crazy,” you explain because it really hasn’t been anything crazy, Rangiku just likes pushing your buttons. He hums in response, not saying anything to her amusement. He has a small bag in his hand that you missed when he initially walked in, placing it onto your dining room table that is now clear of the mirror that you were painting. 

“I bought carving stuff from that store you like in downtown,” he says as he starts unbagging the items he bought. You notice a tube of paint rolling in the bag, sneaking an arm under his and plucking it from the plastic.

“What’s this?” You’re twirling the paint between your fingers and looking for the name, it seems like a shade of green but very light.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He feigns nonchalance, shrugging one shoulder and flicking his eyes over the other to find Rangiku smugly staring from the kitchen. “It’s sage green.”

You find the label name as he says it, running a finger over the word sage and already thinking of what colors it would pair nicely with. It’s sweet that he thinks of you, buys things that remind him of you. Your chest goes tight, and it should be uncomfortable but you’ve never felt more at ease. 

“Thank you,” you smile fondly his way, wanting to lean over and kiss him, but restraining yourself since you have company who will very much ruin the moment. He nods, and you can tell the same thought is running through his head because he steps towards you before stopping halfway. 

Not too long later, Gin stops by to grab Rangiku for their trip. As they are walking out she makes sure to call over her shoulder, “you kids have fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” And you almost strangle her for being so ridiculous as she winks and then scurries away into her soulmate’s arms. 

Ichigo sighs once you two are alone, visibly relaxing now that Rangiku is gone. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, and you hadn’t realized how tense you were until the warmth of his palm is staining your skin through your sweater. 

“Come on,” he says, bending slightly at the waist to whisper against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps tighten your skin and you suppress a shiver, eyes blinking slowly. “These pumpkins aren’t gonna pick themselves.” 

You snort out a laugh, elbowing his side and he grunts like it actually hurt him. “You’re lame.” 

Picking out the perfect pumpkins proves to be a stressful process. Ichigo is pickier than you would’ve assumed, his eyes scrutinizing each one. You decide to part ways to choose your own. And when you reconvene he has managed to find the most perfect one, it’s smooth all the way around, the shape almost cartoonishly pristine. Like he drew it himself and molded it with his fingers. It’s a good size too, not too big and not too small. 

You, on the other hand, pick out two pumpkins. One humongous and hard to carry. It’s slanted to the left and dotted with pimpled skin. The other is the complete opposite, tiny and cute with a long stem sticking out the top. 

“We agreed on one each,” he narrows his eyes, sticking his choice under his arm in an attempt to help you with yours. 

“This one is so small it hardly counts,” you argue, trying to swat his hand away to show him you can carry it yourself, but it’s up and out of your arms before you can fight him off. He makes the pumpkin look like a normal size with the way he holds it against his chest with an arm wrapped around the circumference. You’re upset that he makes it look so easy, but your body heats up when you recognize how broad he is. Wishing it was you in his arms instead of those damn pumpkins. 

“It 100% counts.” He walks over to the little old lady under one of the tents set up on the outskirts of the field. You move to pull out the cash in your wallet to pay her since his hands are full, but before you can wrestle it from the bottom of your purse he’s already handed her money with the pumpkins securely in his arms. 

“You’re so impatient, y’know that?” 

“I’m not impatient,” he argues back, shifting the pumpkins in his arms and heading towards the car. “Now hurry up, my fingers are frozen.” 

At the apartment, the pumpkin carving is a disaster. He’s hopeless when it comes to any kind of creativity. Every time you cut into the thick skin he swears he has no idea what you’re trying to make and your stomach hurts from laughing so hysterically at all of his faces of frustration. 

“It’s literally just a face, Ichigo,” you breathe heavily to even put your breaths from laughing at him. 

“A weird one,” he grumbles, grabbing some seeds and pulp that you scraped out when you first started and tossing it at you. The cold wet strings stick to your neck and sweater and you gasp from the feeling. When you turn your face to look at him, he’s hiding a laugh behind his hand. His shoulders shake from the restraint and you’re positive your expression is only fueling him.

You lean over to grab a fistful of the squishy contents, cringing at how gross it feels but then repaying the gesture by throwing it at him. He tries to dodge it, but it lands right on his collarbone and shoulder, one of the seeds finding its way into the hair behind his ear. His eyes are wide when he meets your eyes, a glint of something devious in them and your instinct is to run. But he’s quick, and his hand already finds some more and as you’re jumping from your seat he hits you right across your torso. 

“You’re making a mess,” you scream over your shoulder, using the chair as a barricade to separate you two. You make a fast break to the right, grabbing whatever is left of the pumpkin insides and raising your arm. 

“For the record,” you exhale on a laugh, “you started this.” 

The pulp flies from your hand and in his direction. His reflexes are faster than you imagined them to be because he dodges with ease. A squeal leaves your throat as you spin and run in the opposite direction. He’s chasing you all around the apartment as you throw the decorative pillows you had lying around the living room at him to keep him away. 

You’re out of breath. The air in your lungs fighting against every laugh and scream you steal from it. You barrel into your bedroom, kicking the door open with your side and stumbling on your carpet. When you look back at him, he’s cleanly jumped over the couch, now only arms distance away. You have no time to shut your door, but you also have no intention to. You’re tired and panting. Your bedroom is completely dark as you run further inside of it. The sun set probably an hour ago, time taken from you like it only does when you want it to slow down. 

Your guard is down. Your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen circulating and you’re in his arms anyway. He’s wrapped them around your middle, fingers digging into your sides to keep you from wigging out of his embrace. 

“Are you done?” His voice is rugged and heavy, dipping lower as he also tries to catch his breath. Your thighs clench in response with a will of their own and your stomach twists when his hot breath fans across your neck. You kick out your legs half heartedly, stubbornly not wanting to admit to him that you have given up the fight.

Ichigo’s grip tightens, and you feel the expanse of his chest fill against your back when he inhales deeply. He tickles your sides, pulling out a surprised laugh from you as you squirm and try to get away from him.

“I’m done!” You shout between laughs, pulling at his fingers with your hands. “I promise! I'm done!”

“You won’t run away from me?” He asks, fingers pausing but his hold is still as tight. 

“No, I won’t,” you sigh, pressing most of your weight into him. “Pinky promise.”

You hold up your pinky, not even sure if he can see it in the darkness of your bedroom. He loosens his arms and your feet fall flat on the floor. You turn to face him, pinky still in the air and you can just barely make out his features. His orange hair is one of the only things visible so that’s what you focus on. He wraps his pinky around yours, your bodies still flush together. 

You tilt your head up at the same time that his bends towards you. His nose brushes the slope of your own, and you share a breath. One that’s stuttered and charged. 

“Can I-,”

“Yes,” you gasp, tugging on his pinky and slotting your lips together. His are soft and taste like original Chapstick. You briefly wonder when he put some on because they’re smooth like it’s been freshly applied. You grab hold of his shirt, fisting it and refusing to let him go. Not this time. You want him completely uninterrupted. You want to kiss him until your lips swell and your cheeks burn. 

His arms are around your waist again, his hands twisting your sweater between his fingers and you are so firmly carved against his body you can feel his abdomen tense against your torso. 

He tries to take a step towards your bed, the intention clear enough, but when you try to follow suit your foot catches on the edge of your shaggy rug. Neither of you are paying enough attention to regain your balance. The kiss breaks and your bodies are stumbling backwards and landing on the soft rug with an umph. He somehow twisted his body in a way so that he’s not resting most of his weight on top of you, instead you’re laying side by side, limbs entangled in each other. 

There’s a heady moment of silence, one that still lingers with fresh desire but is tinged with a relief that’s comical. He breaks the silence first with a chuckle. It’s pressed into the top of your hair, the vibrations rattling around your skull. It has you joining him, a surprised laugh of your own bubbling up from your chest. 

“You’re always tripping over yourself,” he says, the hand that used to be caught in the fabric of your sweater slipping beneath until he’s touching bare skin. 

“You usually do a better job of catching me,” you tease, brushing some of his hair from his forward. His bangs have grown some since you first met and he looks even more endearing when he’s unkempt. 

“I was kind of distracted,” he whispers, his forehead knocking against yours as his hand slips deeper beneath your clothes. You will your body to relax, fight the shiver that’s threatening to tense your body and just feel his hand exploring your exposed skin. 

“Doing what?” You crane your neck so that your lips are merely a centimeter apart again, nails lightly scratching through the hair on the back of his head. 

“This.” And he’s closing the distance again, his lips now tasting like yours. The strawberry lipgloss you swore was gone by now still taints the taste of each open mouthed kiss. You slide your tongue against his bottom lip, asking for more. You sense that you catch him by surprise because his lips part but around a deep groan. One that has the hair on your arms standing and your hips rolling forward against his. 

He moves to your neck, hands becoming desperate in the way that they map out your frame. He rolls so that he’s hovering over your body— tongue licking at the space just above your collarbone. Your head lulls to the side to give him better access, your eyes closing instinctively when he sucks tenderly at the skin there. 

The black that overwhelms your vision frightens you though, for once not used to it after so long of it being your only companion. You nudge him so that he’s sitting up, and your heart aches when you can’t see his eyes. Or the look of concern you know that’s there. 

“Wait,” you rise to your elbows, your voice only air with how breathy you sound. He doesn’t move, just waits patiently for you to say something else. Worried that something is wrong. But instead of reassuring him you worm out from beneath him, arm rising above your head as you twist your torso to reach the lamp that resides on your bedside table. 

The room is immediately filled with a golden glow when you tap the base. The colors that you thought were beginning to fade flooding your senses to remind you that it’s true. That you aren’t dreaming this. Or having some expertly wild delusion. That your soulmate is here and offering you a kaleidoscope of new beginnings. 

“I wanna see,” you explain, hand coming up to rest on his cheek. “ All my life I’ve been living in shadows. Let me see you.” 

His eyes soften, irises like melted chocolate. He understands you. Better than anyone ever has before. It could be proof of the bond that’s destined to tie you together. Or proof that Ichigo is someone like no other. He has a presence that you can no longer live without. And you are terrifyingly in love with him. You don’t have to know what love is like to know what the feeling that clouds your senses is. It makes you want to run but not away from it, straight into its embrace without the fear of uncertainty holding you back.

You pull him in for another kiss. Less rushed, but purposeful. He takes his time undressing you, eyes lingering and stalling on every new exposed inch of your skin. You thought you’d feel the prickling of self-consciousness whenever this moment came, but you have never felt more self-assured. He kisses his way down your body, lips paying special attention to the spots that make you whine. That makes your fingers curl against his arms. 

He’s stripped down to his underwear and is now towering over your completely naked form. You reach for him, wanting him impossibly close, but he grabs your wrist to stop you. His eyes burn with an unwavering desire and you could explode just from the heat of his gaze, so you don’t understand why he’s stopping. When you open your mouth to question him, when you rise to your elbows to ask him if he’s okay, he stops you with a large hand against your stomach to push you back down onto your back. 

“How do you like to be touched?” It’s innocent within itself, but the circumstances are anything but. The shyness you assumed was far away is creeping into your brain as you fail to answer him. 

“I-, just touch me,” you say, hoping that it’s enough to urge him to continue. But he leans over so that his face is just over yours, eyes even more intense with the reflection of the golden light. 

“No,” he says firmly, brows furrowing like they always do when he’s frustrated or thinking too hard about something. “Teach me how to touch you.” 

Your eyes flutter close, heat that couldn’t get any hotter flaming throughout your core and you toss your head back against the carpet. Your chest rises with a broken inhale, your mind glitching momentarily at his words. 

“Fuck- uh, okay,” you swallow, finding his wrist and wrapping your fingers around it. You place his hand at the base of your neck, pushing it down to feel the weight of his palm there. You hear his breath hitch, too busy focusing on the feeling of his hand moving across your skin to see it for yourself. 

You drag it down further, using the confidence that’s simmering somewhere within your blood to guide his hand across your breasts. 

“Squeeze,” you pant when his fingers envelope the sensitive skin. Your nipple is already pebbled beneath his hand and you moan when he follows your direction. There’s a trembling vulnerability to this moment. A comforting one that forces you to keep going. 

“Like this?” He asks when he squeezes again, taking his thumb and dragging it over your hardened nipple. 

“Mmm,” you hum, not able to do much else other than enjoy him. But you tighten your fingers around his wrist once more to push him down even further. Straight between your parted legs where you already feel the slick begin to gather and wet your inner thighs. Your breath halts in your throat, stuck against the walls of your trachea as his fingers slip between your folds. 

He moans with you this time, parting your lips and gathering as much of your slick as he can on his fingers while you limply hold his wrist. You take your other hand and slide your fingers between his, touching yourself alongside him when you focus his fingertips against your clit. 

“P-pressure,” you stutter, hips canting to meet his firm circles. “Just like that.”

Your head is swimming with lust, a sickeningly warm pleasure caresses your veins as you lose yourself. You’re no longer concentrating on guiding him, perfectly content in leaving him alone to learn your body on his own. He moves his fingers down to your entrance, fingertips prodding at the opening without dipping inside like you so badly want him to. 

“Ichigo,” you sigh with enough need that has him looking up at you inside of where his fingers meet your sex. “Please.”

His shoulders slump forward and his chin falls towards his chest. If you didn’t know any better he’d look like he was in pain. The muscles all over his body pulled taut and tense. He’s slipping two fingers inside of you then and you clench harshly around them. You’re unable to breathe properly, not with how he curls them upward in search of the spongy tissue you know is there. You force yourself to keep your eyes open and trained on him, unwilling to lose every frame of him he is giving you. 

His other hand moves over to palm over the tent in his briefs, harshly rolling the heel of his palm against his cock and guilt pulls in your chest at the sight of it. There’s a dark spot forming where his tip is and your mouth waters at that thought of how he might taste in your tongue. But you can’t focus on it for too long when Ichigo manages to press against your swollen walls, using that motion to drag his palm over your clit at the same time. 

“Oh,” your head falls to the side, neck no longer able to hold it up as he focuses entirely on forcing you to the edge. His fingers are targeting every nerve ending that’s there, and there’s a fuzziness clouding your vision as he drives you towards your release. You can barely note from your peripheral that he’s pulled himself from his boxers, his long fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself at the speed with which he’s touching you. 

The sight has your heart racing and your clit throbbing in anticipation. Your hands are gripping the tresses of the rug at your sides, and your moans are rising in pitch the closer you get to your release. Your thighs close around his wrist when he groans your name roughly. You vaguely comprehend that it’s a plea for you to come. But the tone scratches at your brain and before you can understand the pressure that’s built in your gut, your back bows off the floor and your vision spots with noisy mosaics of color. All you can hear is your own voice catching in your vocal chords and the brief gasp of his name as waves of unadulterated pleasure wash over you. 

He doesn’t stop until your back is safely pressed onto the floor again, his fingers slowing inside of you before he’s pulling out altogether. You wince at the emptiness, blinking your eyes back open and wondering when you allowed them to close. 

You’re satisfied and your limbs are so heavy. Your brain is mostly mushy endorphins and the first signs of sleepiness are beginning to make an appearance when your eyesight goes wonky. 

It’s not until you see him fully, and the blush that’s coating his skin. The blossoming redness that stains his cheeks all the way to the tip of his weeping cock that your walls flutter again with the hopes of feeling him inside of you. 

“Let me,” you sit up and reach for him like you did earlier, this time solely wanting to hold him in the palm of your hand. He’s sticky from the precum that’s been dripping from his head. And your mouth waters again with the need to wrap your lips around him. It’s like he can sense where your thoughts have taken you because he’s laying you back down with a hand to your shoulder.

“Next time.”

“But-,”

“Next time,” he promises, stealing any retorts from your lips with a heated kiss. His tongue swipes into your mouth and you nearly forget how wound up he must be. Every kiss is punctuated with a rumbling sigh straight from his chest. He's maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, pillowing your head on his bicep as he continues to mold your lips together. You automatically hook your leg over his hip, his cock slotting between your thighs and slipping easily through the mess of your pussy. 

“Shit,” he pauses, panting against your mouth when he pulls away. You whine for him to continue, body screaming for him to bury himself inside of you. “I don’t have a condom.”

The white noise that was raging in your ear drums dials down and you breathe out a small laugh. You meet his gaze and you see the apprehension there, making you kiss the tip of his nose and rub a thumb over his heated cheek. 

“It’s been a while for me, so I’m clean,” you explain, your heart thudding against your ribcage. “I don’t have one either so if you want to wait we can, but if you’re comfortable…”

You let your sentence trail off, still stroking his cheek with your thumb as you wait for his response. 

“I am too,” he starts, breathing gentle puffs across your face. “Clean.”

“So then, fuck me, Ichigo.” You grip his hair between your fingers and gently tug it. His entire body shudders at the action and you grind down so that his head catches your entrance. He hugs you to him, face moving to bury itself in your neck as he thrusts into you. You can tell he meant to go slower, that he meant to take his time inching his way into your cunt, but your patience is wearing thin. And so you match his thrust with a roll of your own and in one motion he’s seated between your walls with a stuttered groan dampening your neck as his grip on your hip becomes bruising. 

Your sweaty bodies stick to each other as he continues to drive in and out of you. You’re sensitive from your first orgasm, so being full like this saturates every thought and feeling and function that should come naturally. His pace is rhythmic, every drag of his cock perfectly timed with each exhale. You drop your forehead into his shoulder, losing sense of yourself because you can only think of him. And his strong frame and soft lips and thick cock. 

It’s too much. There’s a sharp tug in your stomach, a warning that you’re about to come again. Your fingers unconsciously strengthen their hold on Ichigo’s hair, and you smear a kiss across his shoulder and wherever your lips can reach. 

“M’gon-,” the words are punched from you when his thrusts harden, his hips smacking against you in rapid succession. 

“Cum with me,” he barely grits out between a clenched jaw. “Fuck, please.” 

“Ichi,” you moan, high pitched and shattered. This one is harder than the last, instead of colors gracing your screwed shut eyes, it’s just white. Pure, untainted white. 

He's pulling out of you suddenly and with hardly enough time to aim his cum anywhere. Instead it rushes out in hot spurts all over your pussy, the temperature covering your sensitive clit and jolting your hips back in surprise. His arms are securely around you as he comes down. As you both breathe in jagged breaths of air to compensate for all the ones you lost. 

When you open your eyes, the colors are too bright for you. The tan planes of his shoulder and the vibrant orange of his hair greet you first. Your body sags in his embrace, hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back as he finds his way back to you. 

He stretches against your body when he finally grounds himself into this reality, his hands smoothing over your hair and thigh as he moves back to peer at you. His eyes are drunken and hazy. His lips are reddened and rosey. 

His smile is broad and amused when he gets a good look at you. An entertained little laugh tumbling from him. 

“What’s so funny?” You pull on his earlobe after you pinch it between your thumb and finger. 

“You have a dried pumpkin string on your lip,” he laughs again, plucking it from your bottom lip and showing it to you. 

“How?” You scrunch your brows together in confusion. Only then seeing the bits of pumpkin that you threw at him earlier still clinging to his collarbone and dried on his skin. 

“I can’t believe you threw pumpkin insides at me,” you playfully pout, biting your lip to hide your smile from him. 

“It was payback,” he grins, cradling your cheek in his hand until his fingers massage parts of your neck. 

“For?”

“For waiting so long to bump into me at Starbucks.”

[yuristarwars]

ANOTHER THING I love about Andor is the fact that at the end of episode 5, we're meant to think that Skeen is doing it for a brother, and Cassian is just in it for the money. By the end of episode 6 we realize Cassian was doing it for a brother, and Skeen was just in it for the money.

[midnightmagicks]

FFXIV 30 Day Writing Challenge Day 19: Taken (Makeup Day)

Taken: Remove (someone or something) from a particular place.

TW: Violence, War, Blood mentions, general Sad Vibes

The day Brotiðgrein fell had started the same as any other. The sun rays split through the thick canopy and the wings of bugs shimmered as they passed through them. Birds and buzzing insects filled the spaces that quiet laughter and chatter did not. Young kits ran amongst the branches and foliage that scattered their village clearing, chasing small lizards and mammals and playing little games amongst themselves. The adults took their turns patroling or keeping a watchful eye on the rowdy kits, ensuring no one ventured too far into the treeline. It was normal. Comfortable. Until everything fell apart. 

A distant boom was the first indication. All ears swiveled to listen. It was foreign and unnatural sounding. Mothers and sisters began calling the young back to them, to which the frightened kits happily obliged. The women armed themselves, their confidence in the Warders not keeping them from being prepared to protect their homes. The kits were herded into one of the huts and kept under watch by one village member while the rest scurried about to prepare. The sounds of whirring and crashing trees in the jungle grew louder, as did the voices of men speaking in a language unfamiliar to most here. 

One kit, at the time a particularly brave one named Kari, tried their best to peek over and around the woman standing in the doorway. She continued to shoo them back, scolding and warning them to stay low and quiet. Despite the noises and warning, Kari was barely 5 summers old. Not old enough to fully understand the danger nearing their secluded little home. With a little stomp and a pout, they stopped and stared. “I want my mama.” “Your mama is busy, little one. She is helping your sisters keep the village safe. Now go and sit with everyone else.” That wasn’t good enough, but they were too small to get passed the fully grown Viera woman in the doorway. Kari stomped again, but marched over and sat on the ground, arms crossed and ears laid back. 

This small rage didn’t last long as a sudden very loud, very close explosion reverberated through the hut. All of the young kits cried out and grabbed their ears, falling into a little pile together. The guardian at the door grabbed her head, leaning against the doorway for support. She stood straight up in mere moments, a terrified expression on her face. She held her lance in shaking hands, standing her ground in the doorway as the whirring of foreign metal monsters was coming from just outside. Shouting could be heard from kin and unknown alike, as could the clashing of steel weapons. Whistling of arrows launched towards their targets followed but exhales of pained breath and shouts of fear. The kits were frozen in place, huddled together and holding onto each other for safety. 

The brave little kit named Kari was not so brave anymore. Big tears ran down their cheeks as they shook and hid their face against the others. They were the youngest here, after all. No danger in the forest had shook them quite like this. 

The huddle only lasted a short while before the guardian at the door was accosted by one of the unknown men. He charged at her with a blade, swinging wildly as desperately fought to keep him out of the building. A shout from him caused one of the metal monsters to approach, a horrible buzzing noise emanating as it charged up and launched an explosive. An earth shatter noise and shake caused the kits to cry out again as the side of the hut blew apart– debris flying in all directions. The guardian at the door collapsed, unmoving. The man’s blade stuck in her abdomen. Chunks of debris flew into the little pile of kits, causing some to scatter and try to run, and causing others to fall to the ground. As still as their guardian. 

Kari had been one to scatter. Their tiny frame leaping from the hole in the wall and frantically looking around. Mama. Where was their mama. Or their sisters. Someone. Their eyes found someone familiar. Her green robes catching their eyes as they ran to her. 

“Miðja!” His tiny, shaking voice called. No answer. She didn’t even move. Even amidst the chaos. “Miðja, it’s me! It’s Kari!! Where’s mama!!” 

They approached and nearly jumped on her. She still didn’t move. Their little hands reached out to pat her face and felt something wet. Blood. Fearfully, they pushed her blood-soaked hair from her face to see her staring ahead, eyes unblinking and glassy. They were so young. They couldn’t understand. She had to be alright. She was too strong! All of their sisters were! They shook her shoulders, a little sob escaping. 

“Miðja…please answer me….we gotta find mama…..” 

She still did not answer. Little hands, amidst the chaos and fighting, moved her hair out of her face so gently. They ran their little fingers over the braids they always found so pretty. Leaning in, they pressed their little forehead to hers. 

“I…I gotta find mama Miðja. I love you.” 

Reluctantly, tears flowing down their little face, they turned and ran in a different direction. The lifeless face of their sister burned in their mind as they desperately searched through the chaos. Weapons clashed, arrows stuck into the armor and chests of these foreign fighters as they collapsed to the ground in loud metallic heaps. Different movements caught Kari’s eyes as figures dropped from the trees above. 

The Warders!

Fewer than they had been told were with them, but they were here! Maybe if they found mama, they’d find dada too! Their little feet tapped along the now damaged wooden walkways that connected their huts, scanning for her. A flash of yellow caught their eye and they turned, spotting the familiar robes. With a little jump, they called out, “Mama!! Mama I’m here!!” Her ears spun quickly, the arrow in her bow armed and ready. She whipped around in fear, seeing her tiny kit standing in the midst of the fighting. A metal machine inched closer to them from behind, the kit completely unaware as their focus was on her. She ran, pulling her bow up and launching her arrow directly at the controller of the wretched thing with a guttural yell. Kari froze, ears folding back as they cowered down and away when they finally saw the beast. But mama’s aim was true, and she struck the driver from their seat with one arrow. She swooped over and grabbed her kit into her arms, making a run for the treeline as quickly as she could. Kari clung to her, face buried in her shoulder. 

A loud cracking sound followed by Kari’s mother stumbling made them cry out and cling harder. She recovered, but slowed down significantly. As they reached the treeline, she quickly set her baby down in the bushes, staring into their beautiful violet eyes. Blood had begun to soak through her robes, but she knelt down to her kit and smiled warmly. “My darling baby. My sweet little Kari. I love you so much. Always remember that I love you with all of my heart.” “I–I love you too mama. We have to keep going! It’s dangerous in there, mama! We gotta find da–” She shushed them, gently petting their head. “My darling can you do your mama a favor? You have be very very brave for me, okay?” Kari nodded, eyes shining with tears. “Mama needs you to run, okay? Run very fast. Don’t stop running until you find your dada, okay? He’ll keep you safe.” “But mama why can’t we go toge–” The sounds of men approaching met her ears and she froze, looking over her shoulder and back at Kari. “Kari. Go. There’s no time. I love you. Mama loves you so much. Now go!!”

She pushed them into the treeline and after a moment of hesitation, Kari sprinted into the trees. Not looking back when they heard their mother yell fiercely. Not looking back when they heard the same loud cracks they’d heard before she shooed them into the forest. But she had given them a task. Find his father.

Little legs ran as fast as they could through the thick jungle. The air was heavy and felt thick as bugs flew passed Kari’s ears. The sun was unable to cut through here, and Kari was alone. Afraid. They ran as fast as they could, blood pumping and little heart racing as they crawled over logs and through vines. The jungle was dangerous. Mama had always told them that. Their sisters had too. But no one was here to guide them now. In their little haze, they failed to hear the danger they were running directly into. A “cleanup” squadron marching through the jungle. Kari charged over a log and straight into the legs of one of these soldiers, knocking him to the ground in a tangle of legs and viera kit. 

The men drew their weapons and swore, unaware of what had assaulted them. A higher ranking soldier held up his hand when he saw the kit laying on the ground, frantically trying to untangle themself from the man they’d knocked over. With one hand, the soldier picked Kari up by the scruff and held them up, sneering into the child’s face and poking at them. “Well, would you look at that. It’s one of those freak’s kid.” 

Kari didn’t understand the words the man spoke. The man made noises and threatening motions towards the kit, and Kari did what mama and sisters had taught– fight back. 

With a little screech, the kit kicked the man as hard as they could in the face, clamping teeth down into the arm poking their direction. They bit hard enough to draw blood, and the kick crunched in a way that indicated either a broken nose or broken teeth. The soldier swore, shaking his arm violently and attempting to throw the kit to the ground. 

“Kill this fuckin’ thing, would ya?!”

The lower rank soldiers prepared to do as they were told, holding blades up before a booming laugh caught their attention. The laugh was not joyous. It was humorless and cold. “Well, well. Now that is a fighter. Perhaps we can use that fiery spirit instead of wasting it, yeah? Get a collar. I’m sure there are some uses for the little rat.” A soldier approached, black band in his hands as he clamped it around the neck of the kit still latched onto the man’s arm. A shock was sent through it and Kari released their hold with a squeal. The soldier who collared him carried him to one of the bigger machines, tossing them into a small barred box. A little cage. A click and a latch was the final seal of Kari’s fate. With this, the Garlean soldiers had taken them from their home and family. All Kari could do was sit and cry.

—-------------------------

These tears were very real as E’mal sat up in bed, a raw sob clawing it’s way from his throat as he reached forward towards…nothing. This dream–no, nightmare– had been the most vivid one yet. His hands and body trembled as he frantically looked around the room. Foliage through bars gave way to darkened wood and stone illuminated by flickering firelight. The feeling of cold steel under his hands replaced by warm sheets and soft furs as he breathed, eye darting around the dark before a large hand on his back made him jump. A low rumble met his ears and he looked to the side to see a familiar face. 

The pale gaze of Ezekiel, filled with concern, met his own. Pale hands reached towards his face and wiped tears away as E’mal melted into the touch. He sniffled, reaching out to wrap them around the larger man’s frame. Another rumble as he was pressed against Ezekiel's chest. A fur-lined blanket was wrapped around the pair as Ezekiel held E’mal to him. They didn’t exchange any words. They didn’t need to. E’mal knew he was safe now. Come morning, they would talk and check in. But for now, all that mattered was the ever-present thrum of his partner’s heartbeat. 

------------------ Ezekiel belongs to @bloodredhands :)

[ilkkawhat]